I feel uninspired. Well, that’s not true. I feel uninspired to write something positive and cheerful.
I cannot tell you to dream and dream big. And I feel like a jerk for saying that. But it’s honest.
I can’t help you.
But maybe I can write this down. This is a story that helps me focus.
Because when I hear other people ask me what they should or shouldn’t do, what I really hear, is that you are toooooo caught up in the end result.
You are looking so far ahead you are unable to see what’s right in front of you. And you know. You know that life is about the journey. The problem is you have heard that cliche so many times it has lost all meaning.
So let me tell you a little story about a guy named Denny and also kind of, a guy named Ferdinand Cheval. But let’s not complicate things just yet.
Denny was an honest enough chum. He had an honest enough job. He wasn’t much of rule follower and he may have been addicted to masturbation, but that’s not important to the moral of the story. Why did I mention it then? Because get over yourself masturbation is normal and I’m tired of censoring myself. I already can’t swear when I write these damn things. You don’t know me, but the F word is maybe my very bestest friend. Sailors cringe when they hear me speak.
So anyways. Denny has a roommate. And if you’ve ever seen the movie version of the novel Choke, his roomie is hot AF Sam “Mother’effin Marry Me” Rockwell. That’s also not important. I just think he’s hot. And if you know him. Ask him if he likes red headed morticians.
Anyways. Denny starts picking up rocks on his walks home. It starts small. Pick em’ up. Pop in your pocket. Put em’ in a drawer. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
But soon the rocks overwhelm the drawers. They’re in the cupboards. The closets. They’re everywhere.
“Denny what are you doing with all these rocks?!”
“I’ll know when I know.”
And then one day they are gone.
The same as they came in. Denny started trucking them out.
“Denny where are you going with all these rocks?!”
“I’ll know when I know.”
And so Denny starts building.
Stone by stone. Step by step. Day by day- nope wait I’m going to start singing…
Anyways.
“Denny what are you building?!”
“I’ll know when I know.”
See Denny is a smart guy.
Denny isn’t caught up in the bullshit. Denny is a doer. Sure, Denny is a dreamer too, but that shit is open ended mannnnn!
Denny is building.
What is he building?
Who cares?! Let that shit sort itself out on the way up.
And so Denny builds. And he builds.
And when he’s done. It’s magnificent.
It’s a castle. It’s a chapel.
It. Is.
It’s magnificent because Denny knew that no matter what you want to build. You have to start the same way.
So if you are reading this because you want to be a mortician. And you want to ask me how to do it.
Or.
If you are reading this because you want to be a mortician and you want to know if it’s right for you.
The truth is I can’t tell you.
I never really could.
And the truth is. You won’t know if it’s right for you until you get there.
You may not even know until years after.
When will you know?
You’ll fuckin’ know when you know!
So until then, there’s really only one thing you can do.
Pick up a stone. Put it in your pocket. And start walking.
And when you get where you need to be.
Start building.
Something.
Anything.
Just don’t choke.
P.S. *If you want to read about the real life Denny, look up Ferdinand Cheval who said “Whatever your age, whatever you wish to achieve, if you are courageous, persistent and
hard-working, you are sure to succeed.” He was a postman who actually collected stones for over 27 years to build a place he saw in his dreams. Something beyond words. Something that he could only show the world through action. Check out this PBS story by clicking here. Be inspired. And remember that only you know what constitutes your Palais Ideál.
P.P.S* Is it fate that the man who inspires me so, should have also built his own tomb? Cheval and his way were laid to rest in a tomb of his own creation, the “Tomb of Silence and Eternal Rest” using his traditional building materials: lime, cement and wire.
Death and the City 