Meat� -- The RRR Board

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Date Posted: 09:33:18 07/22/09 Wed
Author: tint
Subject: Meat�

Meat. In the acute consciousness permeating my current frame of mind I become suddenly aware of what I, primarily, am consisted. Fallible flesh covering bone that, as a harbinger of age, will continue to decrease in density. All wrapped up in that organ called skin which holds muscle and bone and unmentionable innards from spilling all over the place. Skin which, just beneath the dermis, sheds collagen like it is molting, revealing the evolving me which will only become more pronounced, a daily portend of a wrinkled future, which already to some degree is the present reality. Old meat.

A fleeting, morbid image of commiting hare kare comes now, my eviscerated abdomen gutted like a fish, a trail of intestine following my staggering gait like a snail's slimy trail. I inhale deeply. This is a necessary stage in this stream of consciousness. It always comes to this place, this leveling of life to its basest form. This represents the far swing of the pendulum and the further it swings this way the greater the momentum for its inevitable swing in the opposite direction. For every action an equal and opposite reaction. The lower the low, the higher the high.

If only I had a gun. Loaded, cocked, finger on the trigger, muzzle in my mouth. The low, the high, the thrill. The pendulum swing teetering on the edge of oblivion. What could be closer to the ultimate low than impending death? What could be closer to the highest high than the accompanying adrenaline rush? Hunter S. Thompson always said he would go out that way and eventually he did. I don't know if I can wait until I am 60. Hunter wrote: "Football season is over". The first line of his personal eulogy. No more fear and loathing. Dead meat.

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