Going Back to The Tomb of the HMO

I think, if a tomb is designed right, people will come by and see it and be your friend -- even though they never met you.

I go to the cemetery where there is a tomb that looks like a small office building. The guy who built it was the in business of HMOs. He perfected the concept, promoted it, was joyful in it. His tomb is made of grey marble, and there is a glass door to a small office, with two chairs and a television hooked to a DVD player. It looks like there has been no presentation for a long time. There are a few signed art prints on the wall, under glass, done in a tasteful LA style from the late 1990s, they are very expensive. Opposite the office there is a glass wall and a marble room with two stone covered protrusions that remind me of boobs or a pair of photon torpedo tubes from a science fiction movie.

This is where the caskets are implied -- one end of the casket, hanging about a foot and a half over a slate colored stone floor for all eternity. The other 75% of the casket is set into a slanting wall. I wonder if it is their feet or their heads, poking out of the wall. Part of me says 'feet' and the other part of me says 'heads'. No way of knowing, unless you want to get in there and crack open those torpedo tubes of eternity to see.

Everytime I see the tomb, I always leave feeling Death and Business are spectacular. When you combine the two realities in a tomb, I feel so morbid, I am amazed. I look at the architecture, and I want to work there, and cry at the same time. I am like a ghoul with a resume. I see my own death in a very nice silver suit, made in Italy. And I look good. That is what has got me coming back to The Tomb of the HMO.

The view is pretty good too -- you can see Catalina Island on a clear day.


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Pacific View Cemetery
Newport Beach, CA