When I got back from Chicago I took another listen to my "When I'm Dead" mix and found it lacked something. Maybe I was just in too crappy a mood when I made it; the collection seemed a bit whiney. Or I don't know, maybe I was in an inappropriately ebullient mood when I got back from my road trip and had no business evaluating a mix designed to be played after I'm downsized from the species.

Also, I began to think maybe my death mix didn't have enough recent music in it; there is a preponderance of songs made more than 5 years ago. It didn't seem... I don't know, sassy. So I started fiddling and got the whole thing good and muddled up. Tonight, after trying to cram one more tune back into a compilation that already runs past the time limits for a single CD, I had one of those moments in which you "realize" something moronically simple that nonetheless appears profound at the time of revelation (the simpler, the better, according to the absurd rules of late-night revelation). This was that I never wanted to finish the mix. I wanted to have some things left undone so there would always be some work to do. When I wrap up all my little projects here on earth there won't be much to hang on to vis-à-vis continued existence. The best I could hope for would be to create a nice snapshot of my perfect death mix of the moment and hope I would have the chance to do an update in a year or so. I know it's dumb; that's philosophy on a few black-and-tans around midnight.

My posthumous CD is entitled "Something." I'm not going to bother to explain the metaphoric properties of that choice. But I think it's kind of cool without being too annoying, you know?

I've been thinking that a CD designed for one's survivors is a great exercise that everyone should undertake. Not only is a worthwhile exploration of one's mortality, but it's a great opportunity to dig back into the old tune collection. It's certainly a far cry from making your standard "faves" mix. You have to think about those you love and what you'd want for them in your absence. Reminders - yes. Suitable sorrow. But also a touch of healing, the potential for future happiness. You don't want to club them over the head with it, just put them on the right road.

Certain songs are pretty much off-limits, unless you're some kind of sadist and want your friends and relatives to really suffer. I had to reject an otherwise lovely song that includes the line "You cause as much sorrow dead as you did when you were alive" and another entitled "I Love You Good-bye" (a breakup tune in its original conception). But I think I'm leaving in "She Sells Sanctuary" and "Heaven or Las Vegas" because I know my people can take a little ribbing, even in their time of grief.

I should know better than to do this, but I'm issuing an open invitation to the three or four people who still read this journal to send their own death mix playlists. I'd love to see what folks choose. Let's publish them and achieve a kind of electronic immortality! I know that in the past when I've done one of these "send me this or that" things it's all come to tears, but this will be different. Take a day, and think about the world after you're gone. You need to heal the world's pain proactively while you're still here. Then send your picks to seven at deadlysins dot com. I'll spill mine too.