…is a goddamn terrible idea.  If any person or self help book or famous quotes website has ever recommended you try living every day like it’s your last, I guarantee the person doing the recommending has never tried it herself.  Or she has, and she’s completely insane.  Because I’ve been living today like it’s my last, and before I even got to lunch I realized if I was doing this daily I’d wind up killing myself before dinner.  And then it really would be my last day.  Every day.  And I wouldn’t even have had dinner.

Let me give you an example of one (of the many, many) problems with this type of relentless day-seizing: if it’s your last day, does the day end at midnight?  Or does it end at sunset?  Because this whole time I was thinking midnight, and the sun’s about to go down and if the Hasidim are right… Well it’s just that I had 11:59 in my head not 5:58, and there’s still a bunch of stuff on this list and god thank god it was daylight savings time today cuz that gave me an extra hour but… shit we changed the clocks!  It’s 4:45 but that was 5:45, and now the sun’s gonna go down in like ten minutes.

Shit!  It’s midnight, not sunset, right?


Ok quick, listen, ‘cuz either way I don’t have a lot of time — I mean when it’s your last day ten minutes is about as good as six hours but I’m wasting time just typing this so just listen OK?!

OK.  It’s profoundly impractical to go through even one day thinking and acting like it’s your last, let alone Monday through Sunday for the rest of your life (which is supposed to be only the rest of today anyway).  I mean first of all, if you’re actually gonna do this— and I just tried— you’re on the phone all day.  I mean, ALL DAY.

It’s your last day on earth!  Think of all the people you have to call!  Like, your mom (duh), and that’s gonna take a half hour, and all the other assholes in your family, and anybody you’ve ever cared about or had a crush on or just wanted to sleep with cuz there might still be a chance, and all the people who are a little more religious than you who might have some say in the Heaven Level you get stuck in forever…  oh and that guy who watered your plants last week who you forgot to thank.  ‘Cause he actually owes you fifty bucks and… shit do I still have that guy’s number?

God, you’d spend half the day just trying to find all the phone numbers!  I mean, even if you had a killer Rolodex and a secretary and you get up at five, if you’re really living today like it’s your last day on Earth you’re slammed with phone calls until lunch time at least.  (And it’s not like you can just group text everybody and be like “C U later!”  Cuz you won’t see anybody later.)  And even if you’re lucky enough to get off the goddamn phone, now it’s already lunch and what the hell are you gonna eat for your last lunch ever?

You eat the best fucking steak in the world is what you eat, even if you’re a vegetarian (especially if you’re a vegetarian) and… fuck why didn’t I just have steak for breakfast?  I mean that omelette was good but it was a little burnt on the one side and aww man that was my last breakfast EVER?!  And they gave me home fries instead of hash browns??!  And they totally forgot the orange juice!   And that bitch better pray for me because of that sweet tip I left her that in retrospect she totally didn’t deserve.  But at least I’ll go to heaven.  She was really cute though.

Speaking of which, if you’re a certain kind of red blooded male you very well might find yourself spending 99% of your entire Last Day Ever just pathetically trying to have sex with someone who’s hotter than anybody you’ve been with in your whole life, or just having sex with anyone at all, all day, while eating steak at the same time, which is impractical unless you happen to run into a super hot nymphomaniac vegetarian who also happens to be living her day like it’s her last.  And she finds you attractive.  See what a pain in the ass this is?

And beyond just the practical stuff— ‘cuz that was just the practical stuff— there’s also the entire mythical world of shit that you’d really want to be doing on your last day ever but probably can’t but it’s nice to dream and who knows it’s your last day on Earth and you’re gonna die soon so why not shoot for the moon, right?  I mean isn’t that what this whole bullshit idea’s about anyway?

Oh it’s my last day on Earth!  I wanna be… I don’t know… hmmmmm… drinking champagne while skiing in Switzerland with a jet pack on and a Ferrari waiting at the bottom of the hill so I can drive it 900 miles an hour through the Alps (literally through the Alps) and then shoot out of a cliff into Italy and jet pack straight into the Duomo in Milan cuz I wanna see that again and plus I could confess one last time, and that couldn’t hurt, right?

Cuz something like THAT is what I’d actually like to be doing if I was literally living today like it’s my last.  Well that, and…

– Making amends with and buying ice cream for anyone I’ve ever been less than completely nice to, which is like… everyone…

– And rolling around on the floor with five Weimaraner puppies while being tickled by a nude Olympic women’s volleyball player and listening to all my favorite Beatles songs in a row, which is like… all of them

– And speed reading that entire list of books that I still haven’t gotten to, including the ones on that one shelf that I pretend to myself that I’ve read, as well as all those goddamn New Yorker back issues that they fire at you weekly as if you’re made of eyeballs…

– And swimming in an ocean and a river and a lake and a pond and a stream and then having a nice sweat in a sauna and doing snow angels and then doing all that again one more time but now in the nude with the volleyball player.

– And throwing a snowball at a monkey.  Which I actually did one time but I’d like to do it again with a larger audience ’cause it was really funny.

See there’s a lot to think about.  And since it’s only one lousy shitty regular 24 hour day (why can’t it be “Live every day like it’s your second to last!  And you live on Venus!  Where the day is 5,832 hours long!”), there isn’t even enough time to make lists of all this shit you wanna do, let alone do any of it.

And it’s not like you can save anything for tomorrow.

God I’m paralyzed with indecision just trying to pick between the eight thousand things I want to do one more time (like eat Count Chocula, throw snowball at monkey) and the eight million things I never did but wish I had. (Like drink a ’45 Bordeaux.  Or a ’46.  Or a fucking ’88 for that matter.)  And since it’s my Last Day On Earth I slept in a little cuz I thought that was justifiable, so now there’s only gonna be time for doing like… eight total things.  But… shit, now that I’ve spent hours hyperventilating about this and wasting time writing about it, now there’s probably only time for, like… seven.  Shit.

Shit!  It’s 4:52!  There’s half the day gone already… unless we’re going by sunset in which case I only have one minute left to seize… Shit!  What do I do!?

Here’s what I’ll do, I’ll tell you this:


Just live like you know you’re gonna die.  Cuz you totally are.  I personally guarantee it.

That way, you can do whatever the hell you want.

I think I’m gonna have a glass of wine and go to bed.

Monkey + snow = Once In a Lifetime Opportunity

Monkey + snow = Once In a Lifetime Opportunity


  1. You do realize there’s a movie or maybe a short series hiding in here. Something with great bits of narration, dialogue between close friends, and some kind of overarching story line that doesn’t necessarily reach an absolute conclusion. It just taps into this mortal fear and fascination that we all share. I imagine it would consume a ton of energy to do that, so maybe it’s just not feasible. But the raw emotion, truth and humor in your writing is powerful stuff. Hell of a way to find your muse, eh?

  2. Pingback: Clinical Trials | the BrainChancery

Say anything! This cancerful brain would love to hear from you...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s