For this touchstone upon the immured mind, which I call my own, I do not anticipate any conception from any. I wish only to the portentous internecine workings of my imprisoned persona in hopes of setting it free. One might call me an aficionado of death. All day I prepare those whose vitiate pointless lives have come to an end for their obsequies. In sooth, I enjoy it. While I am working there are no nauseatingly maudlin nor insouciant people to endure .I have often felt tendentious to those who do not give homilies or philippics about the way in which I run my life. It just so happens that most of these people are those same that I so blissfully spend my time operating on. One must have a certain panache when dealing with the dead to be in such a profession, a panache that results only...