People don't like the idea of being forgotten after their deaths, which is a weird projection I could never get my head around. Since I'm going to be dead when this state of affairs, being forgotten, either happens or doesn't happen, then who is it who is not liking the idea, and when? It's certainly not the future dead me. It must be the present me, experiencing some bizarre pang of anticipatory subjectivity, an impossible and absurd viewpoint. I can't care now, since I'm still alive and enjoying the condition of being known to others, not many others but enough others to thwart some terrible perception of total anonymity, and I can't care later when I'm dead because I'll be dead and one of the minor aspects of death is that in such a state of unliving one is unable to perceive how utterly forgotten one is. It must be a case of imagining my dead self, later, but a self somehow also alive and perceiving too, enough at least to know whether this undesired state of being unremembered has come to pass, but even if this were so I would imagine it would be overshadowed by the fact that I, a person no longer alive, am somehow not only dead but also alive, alive at least enough to note whether or not I've been forgotten in death. This impossible duality would certainly blow any other considerations out of the water, such relatively trivial matters as whether or not I'd been forgotten. Crowds would gather to witness a dead man living, I'd be on the news. That in itself, paradoxically, would guarantee that I'd be remembered. I'd be remembered as the only man who died yet somehow lived in order to find out whether he'd been remembered in death, and who never really found out because of the notoriety surrounding him as a living yet dead individual, a circus-like atmosphere created by his absurd condition that made it impossible to ever know whether he would've been truly remembered for his pre-death exploits.