The Joy of Mummification
I want my body to do things it can’t do anymore.
I believe in the spiritual world. I believe we are universal
ghosts empirically investigating the material world by incarnating into a super
evolved monkey. We’re here to understand the various pains and joys of being
alive. We’re basically spirits trying to experience emotions by suiting up into a
flesh and blood body - and then, when we die, we go back to our original state.
I also believe that when we die, we go back and report to
our homeland, a place near Sirius, 8.6 light year away from here - a.k.a. a seriously long morning commute for a soul. But one
can’t count when one wants to have fun!
The problem is that our soul is basically who we are and it
is not aging ever - it’s young and fresh and willing – and it wants to jump
into that rabbit hole and catch that boy or that girl who smiled at us at the
bar and see where that leads. It wants to experience crazy adventures and break
things, run on the roofs and possibly fly off like superman. While the body that
carries it around, it’s just a revolting pack of goo liquifying and falling apart every day that goes.
It’s like the basic plumbing is not matching the needs.
Ask my doctor! Each visit, she rolls her eyes, talks to me
like I was a 10 year old and ask me to be more careful next time I go to Paris. Even the analyst at the lab. He’s getting all excited
when he sees me pulling down my pants now. What am I bringing to him this time. Typhus? Cholera? Dirty
illnesses nobody has heard of since the middle ages? Golly! He never saw
one like this before! I must have such a colorful life!
I don’t really want to go back to Sirius. I think
it’s
pretty boring up there. You don’t have a body. Everything is perfect.
You’re
never hungry and you’re never cold. You just float around like stupid
gas perfectly content. You’re eternal, man. No accident. No strange
encounter or mad partner with a destructive nature. Everybody is
reliable. No hangover. No spots or burning pains where they shouldn’t
be.
You know what I mean? It’s going to feel really long and lonely up there.
I think the Egyptian agreed with me on that one. They didn’t
want to go back to Sirius either. They had all the flyers and info on the afterlife thanks to their priests, and they knew the
destination sucked. They were really into keeping the soul bond to that body
down here on Earth, even if it meant looking like a recycled toilet paper roll with
drying leather inside.
Which is how I feel sometimes, even if my doctor promised the
antibiotic will help with that.
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