DEATH JOURNAL

This new watercolor I painted tonight encapsulates how I've been feeling lately.



Today has been a day of firsts. Here is a list of the firsts:

1. First car accident
2. First time somebody has told me "never speak to me again".
3. Creation of first "Death Journal"

The "Death Journal" is more of a scrapbook than it is a journal, and it is more utilitarian in the sense that it will preserve much more than a diary would. It is a journal that I am making in the event that when I die, my family or friends or whoever will be able to have one, solid reference of important ideas, pictures, letters and objects, all in one concise, easy to read, and beautifully bound book.

Picture it: a friend or family member dies, and while sorting the beloved dead's possessions, you find a book made by your loved one, filled with words and drawings and photos and ideas, written and constructed specifically for you to have and appreciate, but only after when the loved one has died. Like an emotional will.

Or picture another scenario. Let's picture that one dies alone with no living relatives, friends, or contacts; basically no human connection to the deceased's estate. In this episode of This American Life, (available as a free podcast) they discuss that, and the exponential problems that can arise. A complete, volume of death journals would completely eradicate that problem.

SO HERE ARE THE RULES: no editing words written in the death journal. The audience must always be to your survivors, never to yourself. Zero self-indulgence. No subtraction from the death journal. Once something is included in the death journal, it can never leave. Include only what you want the reader to know, but think hard about exactly what that means, y'know, cause when it's read, you'll be dead. (Cool catch-phrase) Oh, and you also have to create a complete family tree on the back-inside cover and update every year, along with contact information.

Being a griever is selfishly precious. I want to make this journal be precious and selfless.

To me, this doesn't seem morbid in any way, and no I don't plan on dying anytime soon. I feel like by beginning this lifelong project, I'll be exorcising things on paper that I would never dedicate in a personal diary. It's both a time capsule and a telephone call from beyond the urn.

Today I bought the first volume of my death journal; a beautfully bound hardcover book, with rough recycled paper. This is on the first page:


Andy Steinbrink & Seth Allison, Tucson, AZ 2008