Friday, October 15, 2004

Action, reaction, action. Life on the inhale is a constant tickle of adrenalin that makes your ribs hurt and your spine ache. Exhale... slow, treacherous descent into melancholy stasis. s u f f o c a t ***** HA! I knew I was forgetting something. And round and round she goes.

In the moments between the end of the exhale and the beginning of the inhale, you can get lost. The moment at the end of every exhale is like a minute-by-minute reminder that we really don't know what the hell we're here for or what all this tangled-up grunting in between born and dead is actually about.

It's best to get on with breathing pretty quickly, all things considered. Those moments when the world goes pixellated are not things to share with the general public. They're even less something to be savored in private; the "moment of existential dread" could have been called "happy bunny time," but it wasn't, now, was it?


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