The Hungry Heart

When I’m tired, when I’m the most melodramatic and lying on my bed in front of the swamp cooler while I radiate like a trash pile, I imagine the life experience in the image of a kinetic being dressed in purple clothes with a tiny fork in its hand.  I’m stretched on a table, unstrapped but forced to lie there, still, while purple life takes its long fingers and forks out morsels from my body over a process of decades.  When I was young, it was just dried skin mostly, and I barely noticed, but at some point in my twenties, the fork finally broke through the skin.  I noticed then.

At different points, life will be picking at a major organ, or at a patch of non-vital gristle.  I follow it in waves of dread and quiet.

The trick to coping with this peculiar situation is to try and enjoy it.  Breathing deeply, or drinking alcohol.  Podcasts are a terrific distraction from the little fork pricks.  I wouldn’t recommend looking down at your own body at any point.  Ignore what purple life is up to all together.  Create a rich internal atmosphere, or a loud external one.  There goes a disc, a kidney, a chunk of muscle.  Pretend there’s a warehouse somewhere of replacements for all the things purple life is eating.

The truest trick, however, is to embrace the slow dinner it’s making of your body.  Refuse to filter the sensory data coming in, and maybe you’ll become crazy enough to enjoy it.  This is, after all, the life experience, so what else are you going to do?

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