The idea of walking to my death in Antarctica came from Lawrence Oates, the English Antarctic explorer who died during the Terra Nova expedition to the South Pole. Dude had frostbite real bad and feared he was slowing down his team, and so he sacrificed himself by leaving their tent one morning so that his friends might have a chance to get home. They all ended up dying in that tent, and Oates was never found. Still: What a guy!

My friend Quinn was saying last night that her preferred way of exiting the world would be to overdose on morphine. I said, “Nah man.” I wanna EARN my DEATH, for whatever that’s worth. I always remember that Werner Herzog quote that’s kinda about that:

I personally would rather do the existentially essential things in life on foot. If you live in England and your girlfriend is in Sicily, and it is clear you want to marry her, then you should walk to Sicily to propose. For these things travel by car or aeroplane is not the right thing.

Yeah OK!

Hey: I’m gonna give this whole “meditations on self-destruction and death” theme a break. I think we’ve all had enough of that trash for this week!!!

Stay tuned as I continue the tradition of complaining about things in a cartoonishly teenager-y way while posting screenshots of subtitled movies where characters are talking (mostly to themselves) about how life is a senseless terror and that we’re all doomed from the moment we first open our eyes upon this spiritually bankrupt hellprison of a world~!!