.i“ * ^ / . . . . . ` `~

Mortality: how could that song I like continue to exist without me continuing to exist to enjoy it; how could I be dying when I’ve got an idea for a blog post; how could I be dying when I know the meaning of the word coprolite, which should be like a powerful life-affirming crystal in me always. A person cannot die as long as they have something so specific as that to hold onto, a powerful ward and charm against death. (As Death approaches, one merely recalls the word and its definition, whereupon Death staggers off like a vampire, arms in front of face, and you stand up to perform your usual duties.)

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