When I Die, I Want To Decompose

See All The Women Seated, Youth In Their Face Lifts, Old Age In Their Hands.

Writing Is Turning One's Worst Moments Into Money.

Dear Mr Skully, I Have Caught My Neck In A Mangle And Will Be Indisposed For Eternity. Yours In Death S.d.

Sometimes You Write And You Find Yourself Almost Wondering How It Will Turn Out. I Don't Think Every Writer Sort Of Almost Admits That At Some Stage His Books Can Take On Their Own Kind Of Life It Selves And Simply Lead Away Into Directions That They're Not Kind Of Prepared For.

When I Die, I Want To Decompose In A Barrel Of Porter And Have It Served In All The Pubs In Dublin. I Wonder Would They Know It Was Me?