Pro’s and Con’s of Dying on a Plane in 14 Hours

(I don’t mean that I think it’ll be a 14 hour long death, I mean that I’m boarding a flight in 14 hours and I’m scared as fook b/c flying is more unnatural than spray tans, e-mail, and walking on the moon all put together)

caption prayer: god plz dont kill me tonight, queen of carbs and apricot jam who likes writing private journal entries in public places. i will stop leaving my scabs places if you let me survive this flight, but in case that’s not possible:


  1. It’s kind of a posh way to go.
  2. I won’t have to handle the spider situation that’s taking over my box of journals
  3. Like, isn’t the world going up in flames anyway? Climate change, Trump, the most recent season of the Kardashians…
  4. If hell is real, I will run into the arms of my one eyed pug and learn how to bite like I mean it
  5. More people will probably read and/or like my book because if I am dead they will feel sorry for me. Thank you, pity, for escalating my posthumous career!
  6. Losing eight pounds likely won’t be so important anymore, but if they cremate me, I’ll def weigh less than I do now (score)
  7. My biggest fear in life is my mom dying (which I only realized when I typed this). I won’t need to fret about her funeral ’cause it’ll be my funeral, unless she kills herself at my funeral, but she wouldn’t steal my thunder like that
  8. Which reminds me, at my funeral: there will be flourless chocolate cake from Market Table, DMX playing Party Up In Here, and all guests will receive a party favor, which will be one of three of my favorite books: Crush by Richard Siken, Commonwealth by Ann Patchett, and um, um, Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott
  9. Will someone be in charge of telling each of my exboyfriends I love them?
  10. I’ve never been a procrastinator, and since we’re all gonna bite it eventually, it’d suit my Type A personality to just do it now
  11. I have yet to take a nudie
  12. i.e., there’s no real dirt on me, so I can’t die a second death of embarrassment if ppl. go through my stuff
  13. (if you read my journals, my ghost will fuck you up)


  1. I’ll never eat those amazing croissants from Hungarian Pastry
  2. Or see my mom’s dog pick up a scent
  3. Or wade into the ocean by my parents’ house after a long run with my best friend
  4. And how will I poop my metaphorical pants when I encounter a line of sheer poetic genius?
  5. Like Yeats’ (and I’m paraphrasing): we are a soul fastened to a dying animal
  6. I would like to go to grad school
  7. And have a tiny bit more sex
  8. And maybe get my nipple pierced (the right one, which is slightly misshapen)
  9. This is embarrassing and entitled, but if I’m dead you should know, I always wanted to write an advice column and since I don’t see pulling that off in the next fourteen hours, good bye to that
  10.  I’m not done farting in movie theaters or leaving wet clothes in the sink. I have more eggs to scramble, 2-8 other books to write, and that doesn’t even include poetry
  11. I want to take my clothes off in a waterfall and see at least ten thousand more sunrises.
  12. I’m a greedy fuck. I need my kidneys and my heart.
  13. (Organ donor, duh).
  14. I haven’t made my bed yet.