2006 09 16
Decades, near half-a-century in the making, the pk last days are at hand. I’m going to commit suicide at NYU.
Not by blowing my brains out there, when home would be so much more convenient; no, I have no intension of assaulting myself, I never did. As my wife said,
“Paul doesn’t get ulcers, he gives them.”
I’m going to commit suicide by going to NYU and wrecking havoc: till I’m killed or stopped. Actually I was a Christian for much of my life and a pacifist even longer. I believe that god and nature will kill all the humans that need killing very soon now. I feel no blood lust myself. But somehow I must finally get your attention; a life time of all else has failed.
What would get the most attention? Smashed elbows? Bullets in the knee, in the abdomen? Deans, professors, secretaries, students … “pain-in-the-ass innocent bystanders”?
NYU is merely the society’s fender. But it’s past time for pk’s pelt to display on that fender.
Maybe I’ll warm up en route north. Oh, not like General Sherman, I don’t have the resources: something more like Hannibal Lecter. I could easily snipe a few hundred random citizens from I95 overpasses. I may scrap that idea: the important thing is to do it on the east side of Washington Square.
I’m sure the irony of it being pk, the would-be do-gooder, the 1970 offerer of a cheap public internet, will be lost on everyone. Subtlety hasn’t worked for me. Plain statement hasn’t worked for me. Papers, stories, novels, thousands of essays … nothing has worked.
I recommend that you
especially to see how easily — better, how appropriately — you could stop me: without recourse to the police or military.
2014 12 30 Notice, by arresting me, jailing me, censoring me they didn’t read further; they didn’t read at all: never had! exactly my point!