Reaching 27? Want to die whilst you're still cool? Then hurry up!
Just look at those who knew that popping your clogs at 27 was the right thing to do:
Kurt Cobain
Jimi Hendrix
Brian Jones (guitarist of The Rolling Stones)
Janis Joplin
Kristen Pfaff (basist for Hole)
Ron "Pigpen" McKernan (Founding member of the Grateful Dead)
Peter Ham (Keyboardist/Guitarist, leader of Badfinger.)
Jim Morrison
So what are you waiting for?!
When most people have moral questions, they often perceive the right and wrong answers as coming from an angel and a devil respectively. They sit on peoples' shoulders and whisper their advice in to the poor person's ear.
Unfortunately I suffer from a rare condition known as drunken angel syndrome (DAS). I say rare, I actually mean that I am the only one I know of. Despite trying to make my condition known, I usually end up writing abusive emails to people I don't like. The reason for this is as follows:
Say that I want to help someone up who fell down by grabbing their hand and picking them up. The devil will immediately appear on my left shoulder and whisper "Pssst....you should let go of him half way up so they fall again!". A perfectly normal thought, as having someone fall over repeatedly is undeniably funny. Normally there is then the counter argument by the holy one on my right shoulder. Something along the lines of "but that's your grandfather! You could injure him!". Instead when I wait for the response, I get "h..hey. Hey. ...Hey. You-you know what we should do? We should totally go the Threshers! Yeah! Its just down the road from here. Lets get some special brew. Could you, could you lend me a fiver. I'm going to throw up again." Out of the two options, its actually the devil's, and not the collapsed angel sounding like he's currently choking on his own vomit, that makes the better argument.
A football. Spherical in its nature and appearance. Hexagonal to its smaller inhabitants that roam its seemingly flat tectonics. And to the inner beings; those who float the spherical gap between its leather walls?
Insperical? Unspherical? Perhaps an imploded sphere with all its walls turned out. A shape that encompasses everything that is all around you. An omni shape. But in the perfect darkness, it is not even that. A boundary to all movement but the space it occupies can be anywhere, though the air inside is always the same. The small pieces of dust and flaked leather that in-orbit the unsphere travel through the world that they can not see, sudden indentation a prophecy to travelling. A half a million eyes watch the ball leave a shoe and travel into white string and the contents know nothing except the noise that can travel through leather of their actions.
