C. Geoff Morris: An Introspective

He was born.

He lived.

He continued to live.

He then started a blog.

Not much happened in between.

Then he died.

I get the funny feeling that’s exactly how my epitaph will read. My headstone will simple state the following:

Here Lies Chris…

He didn’t do much. He had a handful menial jobs. He tried to make people happy (well, to the best of his ability anyway), he loved his dog! That’s something right? He wasn’t a tall man, kinda short to be honest. Average sized penis (all comparable to his height I suppose). Kind of self deprecating, always made fun of himself before others got the chance to do it for him. He liked birds, he never knew why, but he found them interesting to watch. He got a kick from eating out. Big fan of food. Fucking LOVED Asian cuisine. That’s pretty much it really. Oh, and could you get off the grass! He was walked all over during life I don’t think he would appreciate it in death.

Thanks.

Yep, short, sweet and to the point. Not sure if that would all fit on the headstone though. Fuck it, maybe I should go with this:

Here lies Chris…

He was a pervert and he’s probably looking up your skirt right now.

Regards

I think it would be kinda cool to freak out the people who come to pay their respects, so how about this one:

Here lies Chris…

I’m standing right behind you!

***

So why am I writing my own introspective? Well it was also going to double as my eulogy…Ahh, but why am I writing my own eulogy? Truth is, I don’t trust anyone else to write something meaningful and poetic about me (Not that I could write anything of substance myself, but I’ll give it a red hot go).

So, where to begin? I suppose at the start, right? Isn’t that where most people start? Well I could, but honestly…it’s a pretty fucking boring start! Not much has happened in the past 30 years, nothing really note worthy anyway. Hmm, this is more difficult that I had imagined. If I’m struggling to write my own eulogy, I hope to God that whoever does speak at my funeral just makes some shit up about me. If it’s you, constant reader, make me sound semi cool, okay? Not too cool, not like James Dean cool or anything, maybe Johnny Depp cool or the late Heath Ledger cool. Could you try and make up some adventures as well? Something like, I don’t know; say I went on an expedition to Machu Pichu in search of Incan gold or that I once got kidnapped by Peruvian militants and was held in captivity for 82 days, only to escape using my shoelaces like MacGyver and shit.

You know, on the topic of eulogies and headstones, I was thinking about having one of those ‘living funerals’ you know that ones where you get to participate in your own funeral? So essentially, what happens is that you act out your funeral while you’re still alive. So what happens is, you get yourself a casket; gather your close family and friends and you have yourself a funeral. You get to lie down in the coffin (lid open of course) and listen and watch as people grieve and show their respects to your still warm body. I’m not 100% sure about the rules, like, I don’t know if you’re allowed to speak or participate in the proceedings…but it would be kinda cool if I could. I’d also like to control the guest list (I don’t want any fake mourners coming for the free food) Also, I’d like an outdoors ceremony. On a nice day. Something with a view. Also, if I’m not asking for too much, I’d like doves released as they lower me into the ground. Whatever my age is when I die, I want that many doves released. While all this is happening I want the music from ‘The Lion King’ playing over loud speakers, you know the music that goes ‘Ahhhhhhh Sibenya… Mamabich Eee Ohh Ya Way… Enyoway’ (I could be wrong with those lyrics, but I think you know the scene I’m talking about) as the music starts to play I want someone to take a large picture of me, around A3 size, and hold it to the sun. Then everyone gets down into a worshipping position and praises the photo being held up high. In fact, everyone is now wearing grass skirts and body paint. The moment has a very organic and spiritual feel to it. My casket is now in the ground and people dance around in a tribal ritual, picking up clumps of earth and throwing it into my grave. It’s very moving… by the way, the doves have fucked off and shat all over your cars. I’m sorry. “Can someone grab that gazelle and put him back in the cage? Matthew! Just because you’re wearing a grass skirt doesn’t mean you can take a shit in the open, use the toilet block over there! Natasha! I said a grass skirt, not a banana leaf, what gives? DYLAN! I said tribal symbols painted on your body not ‘Carn the Crows’. Dad, stop shaking your head, this is what I wanted, deal with it. For fuck’s sake, can someone catch that fucking gazelle?”

You know, maybe I am going a little too far. I should have a closed casket, not an open one.

Oh and as for the introspective…did you really think I was going to write my own life review?

Until next time,

-Chris

(Oh the answer to yesterdays riddle, I almost forgot…it was Mark Crimson, Geddit? Question Mark Crimson)