April 25, 2008

• Looking in the mirror is quite an extraordinary experience. 

  There’s your body, but you’re up there in the ball sitting on top of the primary structure.  It is like you are in the cockpit, the main command center.  There is a brief trunk that juts out of the mainland on which the command center rests.  Evil geniuses are always at the top of some tower looking out over everything.  It is somewhat like that.

  There are some sticky revolving spheres just lodged inside two slits about two-thirds up the facade of the control center—that’s how you see out into the world.  As you’re seeing out it is somewhat strange to think, ’So I’m inside my head?’  It certainly seems that way since you are seeing out of it. 

  Another weird part of your command center is the hole with the huge mobile slug in it.  The monstrous slug rests quietly in its cave unless you should choose to unleash its fury for the outside world to see.  

  Thin, strawlike carpet slowly emerges out of your command center, too.  Since it comes out of the top of your head, it is sort of like your front lawn.  It is a front-and-center feature of your appearance that you take care of so it will look nice when others look at you.  For some it comes out of the front of the command center, in which case it is even more like a front lawn.

  Below the throne, your body has some hinged branches that split off from the mainland.  And then out of those come five more little danglies.  It’s just like a Russian egg.  Anyways, these are quite useful since the command center—you—can tell them to do anything you need.  Focusing solely on this ability for a period of time is an extraordinary experience. 

  The small danglies have mini-shields for some reason, looking somewhat like armored faces.  I think they must be hiding something because when you press them they turn white with fear.  You can name these smaller danglies if you want.

  You also conveniently come with a built-in gelpad for sitting on.  That’s really nice.

  The mainland branches off again into the exact same Russian egg routine again, but this time the branches are bigger and somewhat less pliable.  Muscular buffoons, you could call them, since they are powerful but don’t really have the versatility of the northern branches.  Anyways, these are your transporters.  Transporting yourself with them is very weird, especially when you are running for awhile and eventually you feel like they are working all by themselves, carrying the rest of you on top of them.

  Now, mind that you look like a solid, static entity, but that isn’t really the case.  There’s a complex system of rivers carrying blue liquid to all parts of your system—branches, mainland, danglies, command center and all.  Also, you are digesting whatever matter you threw to the mercy of your monstrous slug and his shelved cronies.  And millions of little citizens (cells) dwelling within your massive carapace are running around, performing duties, cleaning up, fighting wars, and much more.  It’s really quite a noisy biological bureaucracy you’re walking around with, there. 

  Imagine how interesting it would be if our bodies were primarily composed of a cytoplasm-type gelatin, thus making us totally transparent.  Then we could always see everything that is going on inside of us.  There would be the river system flowing freely, our huge bags of air inflating and deflating, the drum conducting the river system, and any problems that occur.  This would be helpful because we don’t have any direct knowledge of what’s inside our body—all we ordinary proles have is hearsay evidence.

  Speaking of the drum that conducts the river system, I have often wondered about its motivation.  Life is often associated with its beating, a beating that is almost like the ticking of the clock for our lives.  But why does the heart beat?  People tell me that it is because brain cells tell it to.  But that is another part of our biological system, and thus the question is raised, as living beings are we just circular arguments?  Are we alive because we’re alive? 

  All considered, you are a profoundly bizzare creature.

  As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a monstrous vermin.

  • 6:14 pm
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