CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE.

We read the word ‘deadlines’ as ‘deadliness’ since we’ve been the victims of procrastination. And what is ‘procrastination’ but a yearning to escape? Hopefully, popular music will address this phenomenon by deploying lyrics that rhyme with yearn, yearning, yearned.  

The earth does not procrastinate. Its crust, its mantle, its tectonic geometry drifts, sometimes in countermelody, to the planet’s general ‘spin’. So, too, shall Regional Dwellers drift in countermelody or ‘dischord’ to the deadlines or deadliness.

Regional Dwellers are a peace-loving peoples, who don’t favor traditional Mono-Deity as they worship, but instead, geo-seismic activity. If worship means a ‘devotion’ that is intended to subdue the rogue element, the object of the worship.

To be sure, one worships the volcano because one fears the volcano. Should the volcano erupt anyway (see ‘deadlines’ above) then Regional Dwellers typically implore the ocean—in prayer—to arrive, to extinguish the volcano. (By gale.)

Of course, this makes hella more sense than Mono-Deity, but in fact, oftentimes, the ocean arrives and misses the volcano entirely. Then you’ve got—well, not so much fire and ice—yet—fire and brine. What to worship then? The mongoose?

No, I was not discussing the pornography inherent in our political terminologies, but since you insist, I shall digress: ‘Filibuster’: From Latin firmus (strong) + libido (caprice) + ustilo (scorch) + tergum (rear). There. Are you happy, Senator?

I have searched for a philosophical system that can unify all the disparate Elements inherent in our world. I read about a Soup-“S’up!”-Swiffer Collider, where broths, bro-greetings, and alt-cleanliness were being pinged off one another at atomic rates of speed. It’s one available tack.

In the absence of systems, Inebriation looms. One worships incrementally, by whiz or by dram. Regional Dwellers turn to Inebriation whether or not the volcano and ocean respond. There’s a point, I suppose, to medicating happiness. All things border other things, after all. Inoculate yourself at all times!

I got stuck in the elevator the other day when a Billy Idol song fizzled onto the Muzak system. A woman in the elevator explained that she felt 50 percent incomplete as a person, and she began to dance—some flips and some hips. She was Dancing with (Half of) Herself, Oh Oh Oh!