January 13, 2026 · originally published on the love in the light substack
He said, “dying is a lot like turning on the radio”
I’d been sitting in the cafe with him for about an hour, I’d had a cup of coffee and three cigarettes in the time I’d been there, he probably showed up shortly after I’d finished my first. He had gotten a hot water and a tea bag, left the tea out of the water and loaded up on lemon and honey from the condiments stand.
Since he’d arrived he hadn’t really spoken the whole time, so this was a bit of a non-sequitur, of course in a place like this, this sort of thing is prone to happen.
I put down my comic book (Eddie’s Fried Detective Academy) and looked at him square in the face, making eye contact I raised an eyebrow and said, “oh, yeah? Go on…”
“yeah, so if you’re listening to classic rock, smooth jazz, whatever you’re going to get another similar style of tune. Let’s say your whole life right now is ‘Eleanor Rigby’ you’ve got a very Eleanor Rigby vibe.”
I bristled a little bit at this, I didn’t feel like I was telegraphing my depression today, or my loneliness. But maybe it had settled so deeply into my face that I had resting sadness. Maybe Eleanor Rigby was constantly playing in my subconscious even though the only song I was aware of in my mind at the moment was Push It by Garbage that I’d heard over the speakers in the cafe back during my second smoke, and of course whatever it was that was actually playing at that moment, I think it was something by Will Oldham, is that how his name is spelled, or was it only one l? Also he did a lot of stuff under different names so it was him but wasn’t. Idk, I can’t keep track of all this hipster crap.
“So you’re saying when I die it will be like an abrupt transition into Revolution 9 or Purple Haze or something adjacent?”
“Yeah yeah, exactly.” He perks up and continues, “If I was really into death metal, I’d just get more of the same, and that’s what hell is like.”
“Well, my hell would be someone else’s heaven by that logic”
“Right! It’s all relative, if you think Enya is heaven, and god knows my aunt does, then as long as you stay in your lane, as far as the genre of your life goes, then you just transition into more of the same, but different.”
“Hmm, maybe….” I look away from him and resume gazing out the window. After a few minutes I pull another parliament out of the pack, light it up and wonder when was the last time I listened to Everclear.