Life and death are always so close to us that we sometimes forget they are there. It’s easier to not think about. Someone who cleans the piss off the floors of public bathrooms for a living can’t really afford to contemplate their mortality or run off in pursuit of a dream on a whim. If they did, who’d get the job done? Society needs us to remain productive. Our families need us to keep our shit together even in times of crisis. Crack-heads need the rest of us to make money so that they can steal it or beg us to hand it over voluntarily.

Is it possible though, to live like you know the clock is running out while still managing our obligations? I think so. The secret is…there’s no secret. People should do whatever the fuck they want to do, knowing that there will be consequences for their actions. If you enjoy a hot cup of coffee in the morning, go get one; Just don’t go crying to the legal system if you spill it and fry your own nuts or if you stop growing a few inches sooner than you should. If you’re fed up with the way things are, do something about it. Understand that your actions may fail at accomplishing what you want, but inaction will guarantee failure.

Taking personal responsibility is incredibly liberating. Knowing full well that you have only yourself to blame in most cases, allows the understanding to be able to detect fault far more precisely when it falls in someone else’s lap. This way, people who try to pass the buck or deflect will need to be accountable when they deal with you. More people taking their own responsibilities seriously means less folks need to cover other’s asses, which will suddenly open up a whole lot of extra free time for us to do what we want.

If your good buddy at work isn’t pulling her weight, buckle down and handle your own business. If you never cover for her, you won’t have to feel guilty when the time comes for her to be responsible for her own work. Don’t be sad when she gets fired. She’ll land on her feet and maybe even find a gig more suiting her talents.

Can’t go out anymore because you’re trying to build a nest-egg? Saving for the future? What’s the good of a nest if you can’t leave it sometimes? Why would you need money in the future if you never use it in the present?

See where I’m going with this stuff? I’m not a genius or anything. These are fairly simple concepts. I just think we forget them sometimes due to all the distractions which occupy our lives. I look around for reminders that I am currently living a great life and that it could end at any minute.

For instance, I found out this week that one of my coworkers lost his daughter. I’m attending her funeral today. She was a happy chick in her mid-twenties. One day, her body just turned off like someone forgot to pay the electric bill. It wasn’t violent or drawn out or expected. She just stopped living one day. I never met the gal and it breaks my heart. My concern isn’t for the one who’s gone though. I feel for those left in the wake of it. How will they look back on the times they shared? What’s been left unsaid? What do they regret?

I can’t speak about how this woman lived her life. I can only put it in perspective by relating it to my own. I have a wife and son. When someday one of us unexpectedly stops living, I wouldn’t want those who remained to ever regret a moment of the time when we were. That is, I strive for each week –every day– to have some sort of meaning. Whether it’s learning something new, sharing something interesting, having a laugh, going outside the norm, or even just appreciating what’s always been there. I hope to not have my loss tarnished by regret. When I go, I don’t want people saying that I’m better off dead or that I’m in a better place. I want them all to know that I liked this place and made the most of it.

I’d like it if the void of loss left by people who died could remain filled with pleasant memories. It just feels better to walk through a room which is filled with the distant joy of days gone by, rather than one with the buzz of television and missed opportunity.

I know way too many people who go about their routine every single day not realizing that life is passing them by. They don’t think about life or death or the great stuff that happens in between. I try to inject a bit of unexpected change in their lives from time to time; a useless tidbit of information, a goofy tune or joke, a perspective they haven’t seen before. My hope is that some of them get hooked on it and begin to seek it out on their own.

-King 0f New York

Why the hell would I want a strange man strapped to my ass during one of the most intimate moments of my life? And if I was interested in something like that, why would I even consider paying him? Shouldn’t taking part in a guy’s “first time” be payment enough? So what if this stranger is a so-called “expert” at what he does? It’s not exactly rocket science, you know. Basically, the dude’s just along for the ride. If you start freaking out in the middle, (as some first-timers do) he can gently ease you into the proper positions for maximum enjoyment. That’s what they tell you. I think they’re just doing it for their own cheap thrills, and the extra cash.

Many first-timers opt for a “tandem jump” at their local sky diving facility. It allows you to hop out of a plane and freefall for almost a minute before opening your parachute on your first attempt. It doesn’t require extensive training or particular courage because the whole time, you have a big man attached to your rear with a set of unbreakable straps. This strapping fellow does the jumping, the steering while falling, the chute opening, the landing and most of the thinking. So why in the world would I want that?

As it happens, death and the fear of it are responsible for some of the best times of my life. Facing one’s mortality is a tremendous rush…well, okay that’s not entirely true. It’s scary as hell and your body’s natural mechanisms do everything in their power to stop you from doing something that will put an end to their function. The rush of euphoria, joy and excitement come moments after you realize that something potentially lethal didn’t kill you.

I like to call that moment, “a burst of living” as it is the polar opposite of “la petite mort.” In case you don’t know, that’s the French expression for the feeling of melancholy one experiences just after a sexual orgasm. It’s sort of like dying a little inside after experiencing one of the best things in life. Well, “a burst of living” is that sensational realization that you’re still alive after coming close to death.

My point is, life and death moments are very personal. Some people shit their pants when they face death. Others vomit (like Condors, for instance). Some people may get such excitement from participating in their own destruction, that they orgasm. These are all perfectly natural bodily functions that most wouldn’t want a stranger around for…except maybe that last one.

So the few times I went skydiving in my past, I opted for a “static line jump.” This is a process by which non-experienced jumpers learn the ropes of leaping on their own. The sharper among you will understand that I used a clever pun in that last sentence because “static line” refers to a rope which pulls your parachute out of its packing for you. For this to happen, you need to learn some basics. After a training period, jumpers go up in small groups on a single-engine propeller plane. They then attach their static lines to the craft, climb out onto one of the wing, let go of the plane and hope for the best.

Jumping from 3,000 feet in the air, you have about 15 seconds to either untangle it or open your spare, should your primary chute fail to open properly. Otherwise, your jump turns into a bounce. After logging a number of successful jumps, you move to higher altitudes and eventually begin free-falling on your own. Working your way up to this point seems like a far more rewarding way to go about tempting fate.

Much as I try, I couldn’t convey in words the feelings I got from that experience. The monumental terror that streaks through your body when the jump signal is given is soon replaced by a Zen-like acceptance that today might be the day you die. The adrenaline fueled determination while holding tight to the wing. Those few seconds of desperate uncertainty as you let go of the plane, make way for a crashing wave of exhilaration when the parachute pops open. From there, it’s a gentle coasting back to Earth as the green surface rushes up to welcome you back.

If you’re curious about jumping from planes, I can tell you this: At the time I went, a “static line jump” would cost $200 the first time (which included a five hour class, equipment, and plane ride). Each additional jump was only $20. So for about $400, you could work your way up to independent free-fall and experience about 11 jumps. The “tandem jump” price was about $250. It required only a two hour class, but would cost another $250 if you wanted to go again.

In my opinion, tandem jumpers aren’t getting the full sky diving experience. The extra person attached to me would just be a damper to all the fun. Plus, there’s the other stuff to think about. Do you really want to chance dying with this person you never met before? Even if you do survive, do you want your memory tainted by the garlic breath, body odor or possible erection of your jump buddy? I know I don’t.

-King 0f New York

Centuries ago, sailors had very simple lives, when you think about it. They spent most of their time on the ocean with aquatic life being their only external contact. Whenever they reach shore, seamen would look for company at the nearest and cheapest brothel. This company, due to a thriving sex trade and poor hygiene, often included a fish like smell wafting from the under-carriage. Unpleasant as it may seem, this smell was almost a Pavlovian trigger for these men which screamed, “SEX!”

Combining a half-naked woman with a fish tail was almost rational to them. After all, if a promiscuous female is ever waiting for these men on shore, why shouldn’t there also be fishy females waiting under the sea? When you’re dehydrated, on the brink of scurvy and lonely, the idea seems quite appealing.

We modern folks have taken this crazy idea and romanticized it for mass consumption. Movies like “Splash” or “Lady in the Water” paint mermaids as seductive creatures. Unfortunately, the physical beauty of a topless gal from the ocean must get knocked down several notches by that strong fish stench. Even if she magically changes her fish-tail for legs, and you can get past the odor of undersea living, one needs to consider where else that lady from the water has been before you. Has she been violated by a randy porpoise? Perhaps pounded by a killer whale? Is there a chance she’s got “the HIV” from some dirty needles dumped in the sea?

It’s probably fair to say that the average man of today wouldn’t find the prospect of bedding a half-fish/lady attractive. However, that doesn’t mean that the swashbuckling pirates of days gone by wouldn’t consider Disney’s “Little Mermaid” the equivalent of a stag film. I’m sure we could spend quite some time discussing how seashells must chafe a perky aquatic nipple in the salt water. Unfortunately, that will have to wait for another day…

–King 0f New York