"a killing field for hypotheses" (madman101) wrote,
"a killing field for hypotheses"

Time Out of Mind: PART ONE

I have no notes. I haven't been thinking about this post. But watch, while I weave a wondrous yarn of dementia - although - i think you need yarn if you're going to weave, not vice versa, although reeds would be better. Can you imagine clothing made entirely from basket reeds? Far out. When I heard, today, that some shop in England was selling ice cream made from human breast milk, I could have kicked myself for never having ever come up with the concept in my infinitely gambolling imagination. But, since I forget everything, I really don't know what to get mad at myself about for, or not, anymore, anymore... Lenore...

OK. I'd like a dictionary of people's last words before they die. Sometimes, great souls say something like, "'tis a far greater place I go to from which I came - a place free of dangling participles and run-on sentences," and similar great utterances, fit for fixing on a headstone - and believe you, me, I know a thing or two about stoned heads - but sometimes, great personages leave this word, saying such things, with their last breath, as, "Elsi! Grab the spoons!" Really - there have been some hysterical last words, I want a link... methinks...

When the great God, Thoreau, was leaving this world, as you may have recently read, he had these last words: "Here I go sailing..." Or some such damn thing. His ancestors came from the Orkneys, or Jerseys, or some damn sea-going place. But, not to be constrained by mundane, earthly sanity, he added, "Moose!"

"Moose," would have been Thoreau's last word. But then, he went and added, "Indian!"

How fun - these two last words make no sense whatsoever. The only way I can come anywhere close to making sense of them is by comparing them to one of my dog's last words, "Rabbit!"

Still, I think, "Here we go sailing... Moose... Indian." Is pretty phat, and therefore phunny. But tell me, what IS "funny", anyway? I know I've been called, "FUNNY", all my life, but who am I - will my true self only be painted when I leave this world, and I finally say something serious, such as, "...and don't forget to adjust Family Values for universal inflation" - something so incredibly profound that I instantly become elevated up to our hallowed National Hall of Fame, which includes an odd preponderance of infomercial salesmen?

If you didn't know me, you'd think that this post is completely silly, and going absolutely nowhere. Quite derriere. Unfortunately, I am needing to fall asleep real fast... But I promise, this post will amaze your mind... Damned lithium... Later...

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