An Intrinsic Exquisite

my father's


this vile simplicity


when I was 14 my father told me that he wanted to die. I tried to talk him out of it, thinking that he would kill himself in some majestic dramatic act, that was, it seemed to me, his style. but he had something else entirely in mind

it took him 25 years to kill himself. his was a slow and agonizing suicide but, like most suicides, it was meant as a message to those around him. he embraced the negativity that so disgusted and depressed him, became enraptured by it all

he died, finally, of a combination of grueling self-disgust in anguish. once he had no need for happiness, things became simpler. though I think he was always disappointed that he never managed to live without pain

he was in constant pain. what no one ever bothered to show or explain to him, the oasis that joy and hope provides, he had no conception of... in his mind joy and hope made him vulnerable and that was unacceptable

he looked for relief from pain from drugs, ritualized sex and cathartic attacks on others