...to spare me from seeing your insides splattered all over the front of an express train.
The trains were late last week because someone threw himself or herself (or their-selves, ewwwwww) in front of an express train and slowed everything down, domino effect. It was the third time my train was delayed by a jumper. The other incidents happened in locations further off, and I could only imagine what happened, but this time I saw actual carnage. I didn't think that the train I sat in on my way to work would pass by that very bloodied express. As my train inched slowly by, our rubbery necks swiveled starboard to catch a passing glimpse of the vacated ghost train. It evoked an image of a gravely wounded soldier sulking back towards home base. The folks in my train were quiet--I mean, Japanese passengers are already a quiet lot, but this quiet was due to stunned silence. The impact of the body (bodies??) left a jagged, blood-stained crater to the front car. Imagine an egg shot by a BB gun.
A gruesome image I'll remember for the rest of my life. It got me thinking about suicide--the act of, not committing it, obviously.
(Coincidentally, ironically, poetically--whatever--I was reading "The Bell Jar" at the time. Horray for mental health!)
Anyway, yeah, being hit by a train moving at 300km/h would be swift and painless to the jumper but what about everyone and everything else inconvenienced by the jumper in the process? It would delay hundreds of thousands of commuters and traumatize everyone on the train and the onlookers. A perfectly good train RUINED. And SOMEONE has to clean up the bloody, bodily shrapnel. I think the worst bit is how the bereaved next-of-kins not only suddenly lose a loved-one but are also handed a very fat cleanup tab. I think families can be charged up to $1 million depending on the magnitude of the impact.
What a great way to make everyone hate you! Of course you'd be too dead to have to bother with the collective resentment. Bitter cowards, the lot.
If I HAD TO think of a way to kill myself, it would only be after all my close friends and family died, and, taking a page from the season 1 ender of Nip/Tuck, I would tie a bunch of Christmas hams to my body and throw myself into crocodile-infested waters so no one would have to deal with the cleanup and the 'gators would get a nice meal.
Anyway, this was a veryveryvery morbid entry and if there were anything more interesting going on in my life I would be blogging about that instead. An entry about how I'm tackling "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots Part 1" on guitar would merit 4 sentences. But Tristan, the BF, shrewdly pointed out I've been slacking on 'da Beat, so I slapped this lovely entry together just for him! You're welcome, hunny, and Happy Valentines!
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