Your uncle shot himself in the face because of a dead bird. Your uncle found it in his back yard while raking. Being gifted at abstraction and prone to recursion, his mind ran hot and the little yellow bird became every little yellow bird that ever lay dead underneath a pile of leaves. He stood over it with tears in his eyes because time was suddenly a procession of dead birds with their eyes crusted over. Fields of them, stacks of them, little dead birds all over the world.
Write his wife a letter, since he was kind enough to write her one, to explain.
He said, “They’ll never stop dropping dead Marlene.”
Now you say, “Fuck the bible Marlene,” and continue with, “The book that God would write, it would just say be happy despite all the dead birds.”
He didn’t shoot himself in the face because of that bird. He shot himself because of chemicals. You get up every morning with a few birds less, one uncle less, and that’s what there is.
Scientific Fact #22: There Are No Reasons To Be Unhappy.
“Being gifted at abstraction and prone to recursion, his mind ran hot” — I like that.
