meet: eternity

I will never die.

You see, I know this because yesterday JG, E1, and I were discussing denim pursuits so I, of course, put on James Brown's "Hot Pants" and then I, of course, stood up on my chair and started dancing. Because that is a natural reaction to hearing James Brown.
"Gee, it's great to be 22 and dancing on chairs to James Brown," I thought. But then I realized I would do this at any age. Someday I will be old, frail, and wheelchaired and someone will put on JB's "Make it funky" and I will naturally stand up in my wheelchair and dance. But wheelchairs and my legs will be unsteady therefore leading to death. HOWEVER, by the time I'm 133 (which is the age I figure people will be dying at in those days) we should have gyroscopic wheelchairs. And hip implants. Ergo: my gyroscopic geriatric hips will really be even better at gyrating to James Brown.
Ergo: no dying.

speaking of gyroscopes...

I have a segue resolution to lead between 2009 and 2010. I've done very well with 2009 and it's led to this and we'll see where 2010 takes us, but the point of this paragraph is my INTERIM RESOLUTION. Il s'appelle*: SAY IT.
Tis an attempt to reduce the lag time between what I'm thinking and what you hear. Tis an attempt to reduce my seeming to lack emotion. Tis an attempt to make sure I never leave you thinking that you have lost my interest because I've remained quiet. Tis an attempt to reduce the distance between us. Tis the season to SAY IT.

*It's called

I will not be burdened by serendipitous nicknacks

All I want out of life are work, creative outlets, people to love, my bicycle, and a shower on the south side of my house with a little window in it so I can take showers with the sunset shining in at the end of a long summer day.

I know I'm going to have a life like that.

Are you going to have the life you want?

more morbidity

We decided how I would die today.

(it's ma camarade de chambre's question of the week)
(last week the inanimate object that I married was my bicycle, Wonder)

I imagine I would be wearing pearls and a pretty, classic dress. I'd knowingly frolic out my fate, traipsing through the forest; light through tree branches, green green leaves, the stuff of currently overly hip hand-done children's book illustration.

I'd hear music crackling off a phonograph player and meet the big brown bear in the glen deep in the heart of the forest, off the path that Little Red Riding hood is supposed to stick to. We'd waltz, the big brown bear is a very talented waltzer, like a dream. When that song ended, he'd maul and eat me to the accompaniment of some operatic aria.

Any opera suggestions?