Stuntman And Lover Of Cheese

by Dan Bostonweeks


So, on Saturday at the Whitney Street House Andre and I were discussing cake. Somehow it came about that a great epitaph for Andre would be “I love cake!” because, well, he does (he also brings the greatest cakes to parties, but that’s a story for another time). Then it gets around to me and Andre mentions that he’s always seen mine as being just one word: Music. No name, no date, just the word “Rawk.” Now, not to be morbid, but I actually like this idea because it fits right into the plan in my head. I’ve always envisioned just a block of beautiful pink granite from Texas, say about two feet on a side. There would be one polished rectangle with whatever I wanted written in there. I now want that polished area to just say “Rawk”, nothing more, nothing less. Some people have objected to the no name and no date thing, and at some point I might see that argument, but if I did have them it would probably be some laser engraved thing that is very tiny along with the sentence “Thank you for reading this line.” Of course I’m going to be donated to science and then burnt to a crisp, so maybe this will just be a monument to hold what’s left of my pinky toe or something.