Tuesday, February 08, 2005

Life - Tasted, Savored, or Smelled?

I read somewhere that you are supposed to take a bite out of life. So I tried it.

I got little bits of Life stuck in my teeth like popcorn husks, or flecks of broccoli. Crumbs fell down my chin and got grease stains on my only good pair of dress slacks. I went to take another bite when I wondered, is taking bites out of Life really such a smart idea? What happens when you realize you've been an utter pig and taken too many bites, and suddenly, there's nothing left? Is that when you die, when there are no bites of Life left to take?

When you take a big mouth-watering, jaw-cracking, lip-smacking chunk out of life, tearing into it like a rotweiller on the mailman's ass, washing it down with an ice cold cup of whimsy, and a dash of devil-may-care thrown in for spice, what does it do to your digestion? I can only imagine what the burps would smell like.

Is life supposed to be savored in little sips, like an amazing wine, or guzzled like an existential gatorade? Is it chewed, or slurped, licked, or nibbled? Can you really take a bite right off the side, or do you need to cut it up into manageable-sized pieces first? Does it peel off or chunk? Clumps or flakes? Does it taste good sprinkled on peaches?

What if you chose to only sniff at life, huffing and chuffing your way around the edge like some neurotic bloodhound? What if you jammed your shnoz right up into Life's sweaty crotch and took a big wiff, like the neighbor's dog who just can't seem to stop doing the same thing to every poor sot who has the misfortune of trundling up the sidewalk of the house next door? What would you smell? What would your nose tell you about Life from such an intimate inhalation?

When taking my tasty sample of Life, I wonder if I'd use an ice cream scooper, or just a melon baller? A pitchfork or a pair of tweezers? Would I take a handful, or more? Or would more than a handful be a waste? One considers it self-evident that it is far better to have your arms around a waist than have waste around your arms.

Can Life be reheated, or is it only good fresh? Questions such as these plague my mind at night, but I fear, answers are not to be found. Madness to hope, and yet...