If the petroleum deposits we’re digging up now are from all the plant and animal carcasses deposited millions of years ago, all the cemeteries we’re filling up now are going to be convenient petroleum deposits for when the cockroaches, or whatever, rule the world—assuming they require petroleum products, that is.
When I wake up, how groggy I feel is directly proportional to how deep in sleep I was. When a diver is coming up from the depths, if he/she comes up too quickly there’s the risk of developing “the bends.” Does that mean that grogginess sleep’s form of the bends, albeit less deadly (unless operating heavy machinery or hand grenades)?
Sometimes when doves/pigeons take off they make a fluttering noise in time with their wings flapping. Since they are taking off, usually from a stand still, I’d imagine that it takes quite a bit of effort, despite they’re being light. All that being the case, is that fluttering noise their “fat grunt?”
When our life is over, we’re dead. What were we before we were born? Assuming that the nothingness after life is the same as the nothingness before life, were we dead before? If so, doesn’t that make us zombies, of a sort? The Un-undead?
Being a writer is a bit like being a super hero. There is one’s secret “real life” and writing lair. Then there is one’s public front, sometimes with a pen name. It’s lonely, mostly solitary work. It takes a special person to pull it off, and buckets of blood, sweat, and tears. Fans always want more, are highly critical, and more often than not, one’s best is only good enough for a moment.
(if only the super powers . . .)
Still. Worth it.
(eh . . . maybe)