h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

In Memoriam -- Barton Lynn Rolsky
1948 -- Sometime Tomorrow Afternoon

They won't sing when I'm gone. At least,
they won't sing all that long.
The work I left undone's increased
There'll be no twenty guns.
The final word's been said, "Deceased."
And that means what you've read.

I would have liked to live some more,
I gave you what I give.
I'd hoped my kicking at the door
Would rouse your quaking flat.
I hope I shocked you to your core
That's what I tried to do.

"This rhyme won't scan," I've heard you said.
"The way it stops 'sabsurd."
Yet follow still the way you're lead,
Hear what I planned to say
It stops that way because I'm dead,
Forgive me while I pause.

For immediate release.
(One can only hope.)

Well, *I* think it is a very good reflexion of the late lamented Mr Rolsky, even if it does *not* fit the rhythm and metre of 'When I'm Gone' *or* 'No More Songs'.

I am sorry to know that Mr Rolsky will be late, as I was looking forward to his continued input in my h2g2 projects, and other aspects of my life. Still, it is unavoidably true that sooner or later, we will all be permanently detained.

(Clinical research in the area of Thanatotherapy* suggests that there is a function of actually being dead, which interferes with communication skills. This probably goes a long way to explain the late Mr Rolsky's scansion, or lack of same. On the other hand, it could be a feature of the controversial passive-aggressive Dead Personality Disorder, which caused him to create cognitive dissonance for the living, by leaving a requiem behind him which so poorly reflected his true creative capabilities.)

With all due respects to a colleague, who never upstaged anyone by accident,

Arpeggio, for LeKZ

*'Thanatotherapy: Psychotherapy of the Dead' in Oral Sadism and the Vegetarian Personality: Readings from the Journal of Polymorphous Perversity, ed. Ellenbogen, Glenn, D. Harper and Row; 1986.

Would it be terribly plagaristic if I squeeked out, "Ah'm not dead yet," in an 'orrible 'lower-class' Bri'ish haccent?

I won't be dead till tomorrow afternoon, whenever that gets here. And, I was hoping that wouldn't be until, at least, next week around Thursday or Friday.

Barton

Thanks Barton. Sorry to learn of your immanent demise.

Wiv a 'orrible Bri'ish haccent, a bloke could easy wind up hopperatin' a lift aboard the Starship Titanic... or summat.

It wouldn't be as plagiaristic as if you'd said "rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated", though...

Couldn't that be 'eminent demise'?

I just keep trying, some say 'very trying'.

Barton

Roomers of my death -- shared occupancy coffins?

Barton

seems more like "impermanent demise"...

Particularly if you don't keep up the payments on the old plot.

"The good is oft interred in the next county."

Barton