I think the Roman Catholic motiff has run it's course. Let's switch gears for a moment and pull out onto the large freeway of Urbania South, where dreams become reality in a matter of degrees, tedious though they may be, where sentences run together, lumping, falling grace-lessly to the bottom, agitated little spots of Lava Lamp oil, awaiting thermal absorption of one type or another....so as to continue their "rise" to power and glory.
Impristine ponders the weighty topic of HMO's and their universal disregard for "proper" treatment, leaves us to question our own right to lapse quietly into death, untormented in a last easy exhale......there, it's over, our self-indulgent fascination with the unknown finally is spoken to, we shall all expire in urine soaked bed linens, our children will be attending a major league baseball on the day it happens...so be it.
I will be watching a re-run of Hometime on the fateful moment when my beloved wife and child are killed in a headon collision coming back from the grocery store, or it could be me, or my neighbor, or their neighbor's aunt from Syracuse, it's all the same. Love burns and expires, consents to be taken from us in a last unrelenting statement of recognition....digging it's nails into the side of whatever vessel that temporarily houses, confines, defines, and denies it.
It is time to move on Gracie, the populist vent is taking aim on individuality, the expressions of freely given reign over one's own self-destiny are being quartered and drawn like so many suckling calves....the blood runs freely on the slaughterhouse floor. |
