A Standing Ovation

First Circuit: Oral Bio-Survival

When I grow up, I want to be a skeleton. Or maybe a ghost. I’m of two minds on the matter. Two minds on the matter…

Most of my imaginary friends don’t believe in ghosts. Hell, half of them don’t even believe in me. They’re pretty square, if you ask me. But everyone’s a little square, if you look from the right angle.

And I’ve got a bone to pick with the mortuary business. I hate to get stuck in a box, and incineration just plain stinks. Besides, if my urn matches my earnings, my ashes might as well land in some rusty tin can.

When the time comes, I’ll probably go with one of those back alley funerals, and squat in a dumpster for all eternity. Shh. Don’t tell the city. Hey, what city are we in?

I tend to field a lot of square questions. People always say: “Say, you’re not from ’round here! Where ya from?” I like to tell them that I come from a long line of eggs.

Literally true. An unbroken chain of ova in evolution. Ova in evolution. I am a standing ovation. So are you. Ova in evolution.

I hope that one didn’t go “ova” your heads.

Maybe my whole life is just a dress rehearsal for a promising career as a poltergeist. I’ve been told I have a haunting look, and I’ve been known to rattle a chain or two. So the afterlife looks bright for this future shade.

There’s a lot of discrimination against ghosts, though. These born-again bobble-heads are always going on about the rights of the unborn, but what about the rights of the undead?

You don’t hear much about the rites of the undead, either. Necromancy sure ain’t what it used to be. I’m a big fan of phantoms, but I’m not looking forward to being exorcized. Don’t try to exorcise me, or I’ll ghost out of here.

I usually run far away from exercise, though evidently not from run-on sentences. Run-on sentences are messy, but then again, so are periods. A period interrupts a sentence. Life sentence, if you catch my drift. Catch my drift?

Well, I’m not sure what sort of career I might be pursuing here, but my hobby is armchair etymology. Language branches like a fractal. Like a fractal. Like a fractal…

Language is a sequence of events, like wind blowing, or water flowing. Or a tree growing. Etymolotree. Catch my drift? Catch my drift?

Life. Life is like…an inadequate analogy.

The ideas expressed herein are not necessarily those of the medium. The medium I am.

I am the set of all I am, the set of all I am, the set of all, I am the set of all I am. For my first act, I’ll impersonate myself.

om ma matter mother mammary mammal material mass meter metric matrix matriculate matrimony metropolis ma ma ma

Oral bio survival
Oral bio survival
Oral bio survival
You must
You must
You must inhale
You must
You must exhale
You must
It all begins with a breath
You must inhale
You must
You must exhale
You must
Inhale exhale inhale exhale
One breathe after another
Never stop, for the next stop is death
You must
You must inhale
You must
You must exhale
You must

Made of matter, suckled by mother
Ma is as selfless as I am
Helpless self seeking the other
Cognition dancing binary beats
Synchronized in the catbird seat
Trying to find that goldilocks slot
Not too cold and not too hot
The nipple and the stick
The rod and the tit
Hard or soft
Do or don’t
Yes or no
Will or won’t
On or off
Security first circuit
Security first circuit
Security first circuit

January 5, 2017. Category: airlift, Treealism.

About Air Lift Underground

View all posts by Air Lift Underground