Tar

Hello friends. Maybe one reason why losing more weight is attractive is because the air feels so heavy all the time. It’s heavy for good reasons, but maybe we ought to forget those reasons.

But if you can’t forget those reasons and the tantalizing pain therein, then it’s only natural to make oneself as nimble as possible. A simple hope really — if you lose enough weight, maybe you won’t feel as though you’re pushing through porous tar for each step.

An argument against this, maybe, is that one loses the strength to bend the tar to the preferred path. If you stop eating enough so naturally you’ll cannibalize the remaining muscle.

One could listen to upbeat jazz tunes in hopes that it’d dissolve the pittedness. It does work to some extent, and what sparked this observation. So, to report: it sounds so light and flexible.

If you heat up the tar enough so it scorches, but if it cools enough you may be hardened into place. It’s only natural, then, to keep a steady ship of lukewarm outlooks, and defer the Living to those ordained.

When one first hears about how people die at 25 and are only buried at 75, with a childish conviction so determined one may be to escape such sentencing. Or rather, a dismissal: how could anyone resign themselves to the Living Dead, stuck in tarish traversals between days?

But once inaugurated as a resolute member of the Living Dead, submerged in the tar, so one at least lets the time wash over and through. There’s no struggling, nothing to grasp — the zen masters laugh at you.

You could look up to the Sun and blink before returning to the paved toil — you could wonder what it means to be Alive if you’ll ever feel it, or that you’re delaying everything until all tidy for a grandiose entrance. Even though the party has long since disbanded.

Pushing weights and restricted waists, pre-mummified youth hoping that, finally, once in their life, they could use their body as it was meant. Alas, you got cultivated into the Living Dead.

Anyway, as a humble servant of the Living Dead, so a penance of thought could be how the Alive faction hides mounds of disappointments and anxiety therein. Whether you’re Living enough, or how you got a whole checklist compared against the Weeks Of Your Life to bubble in each day.

See, by submerging into this tar, though an inconvenience with travel, so one remains alleviated: as though you’re already moving into the singularity anyway.