Imagine time is like a big block of ice, like a glacier, raging through the landscape, destroying everything in its path. Now imagine that you are strapped to the very front end of that glacier, hollering, tears streaming from your eyes, the chill of the ice clinging to your back, your brain simultaneously on fire while freezing in its casing. Your testicles retract or your ovaries huddle, and it is both thrilling and frightening. Can you imagine that? Yeah? Well, that’s nothing like what I’m going through right now. Just the opposite, in fact.

For me, time is still like said glacier. Only rather than raping and raking the earth with it’s monstrous monstrosity, it’s instead just sitting. On me. All six hundred billion, billion tons of it resting on my chest. Making it vaguely difficult to breathe and swallow. Not to mention that I don’t think I’ll ever feel warm again. And I feel…well, I feel pinned down. And unable to move. And I’ve got a splitting head-ache.

And the funny thing is, while this metaphor is probably hyperbole. I mean, I really can’t possibly feel like I’m sitting under 600,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 tons of ice (can’t I), but it for some reason makes me feel better to frame my current predicament in these terms. I’m not sure if it’s because by making it a cartoon it gives me a clearer perspective on how horrible things really are not, or if it’s something analogous to popping an emotional zit. It’s angry and red and swollen but once I fire out all of the goo, it basically bleeds a little and feels a whole hell of a lot better. Anyhow, whatever the case may be, I feel better. Thanks for listening.

With a fusillade of puss, blood, and angry words,

Mike TV

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