Landscaping & SuicideSubmitted by Murphy1844 at 2010-09-10 18:07:12 EDT
Rating: 0.93 on 28 ratings (28 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
My brother-in-law complained to me today about the landscaping work that was recently done to his front yard. He asked me if I liked it. I said I did, even though I don't know anything about landscaping. It looked fine to me..
"I don't like it," he said. I looked at him as if to say go on...
"Well," he started, "it doesn't look anything like the drawing they did. The grass doesn't come up far enough and we're stuck with just a bunch of bark dust." He complained about this, along with the size of the plants. "I know they'll get bigger in a COUPLE YEARS, but I wanted something that looked you know... fuller.
"I don't want to sound like an asshole, but I'm going to call them and complain."
The grass didn't come up far enough, like it did in the drawing, and the plants were too small, and it cost him three thousand dollars to get this work done. He threatened to take measuring tape to actually measure how much square footage of grass he had, and compare that against what he paid for. He complained that they didn't move any of the sprinklers from their original position, noting that certain sprinklers were, as he put it, "squirting on fucking NOTHING." To add to all this, the mound of bark dust looked like a "mound of bark dust, see THAT." I guess that's a bad thing. He did like the rocks they put in near the porch but he was upset that they didn't extend the bark dust to the portion of the yard leading to the gate.
During this, I noticed my thoughts wandering to blood and slicing and bleeding and warm water.
He looked around during a moment of silence, shaking his head back and forth. His arms were crossed. He said to an imaginary person in front of him, "see that," and pointed at something. I went along with it, feeling stuck.
Suicide can be categorized in two ways. Physical and chemical. Both, and this is self-explanatory, aim to interrupt life processes. One popular method is bleeding, which aims to reduce the volume and pressure of blood to below critical levels. Cutting and suicide are different, and it's important to understand the distinction. Those who cut aren't trying to kill themselves. They're either trying for a cry for help because something is wrong and not getting enough attention, or they're trying to relieve themselves of unimaginable emotional pain-- basically by forcing the brain to think about physical pain to a point where the emotional pain they're going through eases up a bit. Cutters usually cut across the wrists or arm or leg.
The neighbor came around to the both of us standing there and said, "lookin' nice, lookin' nice." My brother-in-law immediately targeted him and launched a whole new round of complaints. The neighbor said he would have liked a certain bush pushed a little toward the house because, from his perspective while sitting on his porch, it would have looked nicer.
There are many arteries in the human anatomy to pick from, but in the interest of my fantasy, I'll pick the inside-the-forearm artery, or radial artery. The best method for success here is to slice the artery open along where it runs, length-wise up the arm. The radial artery branches from one thick tube to two smaller tubes around where the elbow bends. So if one is in a hurry, it's best to start from that bend and cut deep up to the shoulder. Many with some know-how in the business of suicide would start at the wrist, then cut up along one of the radial’s subsidiaries. This is perfectly acceptable and will work just fine. Depending on whether or not one draws a warm bath of water to help the gush, it's almost always possible to enjoy your last glass of favorite wine, or listen to your favorite song, or make your last phone call. It really is a matter of preference and totally up to the individual.
The yard looked fine. The edges were clean, the grass was green, and the bark dust had that new bark dust smell, which is pleasant. This isn’t the first time I’ve felt like an alien from a different plant. It won’t be the last, either.
Once his attention was focused on the neighbor, I scooted away as quickly and politely as I could.
Driving away, I imagined the look of blood in water like in those shark videos. It’s similar to plopping a thing of creamer in a black cup of coffee. At this I sort of smiled.