dear mary-ellen diary,
so with today being john boy's birthday and all, i thought pancakes would be good for when i finally do feel like eating something. i ain't hungry yet. i always wonder why i have to remember every body's birthday for. i remember when people die too. i dunno why, i just do. i quit going to funerals though. i found a better way. you call the funeral home and you have them save a fucking little service card with the dead person's name and shit on it- and pick it up later when all the crybabies ain't there. see, death to me is different. i was raised different. i guess since my dad was BORN in the cemetery and grew up playing in the one where his parents and brother and aunts and uncles are, i have a different perspective than most. we often took fried chicken and had sunday picnics in the cemetery with my resting grandparents. i read in the newspaper the other day how the cemetery is a place, "children shouldn't play and dogs shouldn't run," but i adamantly disagree. bringing love and life to the dead can set all spirits free. and if i wouldn't have taken my own children there- they might only have known their precious grandmother and great grandmother through me.