La lutte elle-même vers les sommets suffit à remplir un cœur d'homme; il faut imaginer Chrisyphe heureux. The voice of the Elpheetees spake in unison unto the goddess Twaladriel. "We want a new psygeío ! No, we want TWO new psygeía ! A big one for pharmaceuticals and another one for food! Yeah! Give us that!" Twaladriel, in her beneficence, decided to grant their request. For, lo, she too desired a psygeío with a katapsýktis for the Underworld of 𐀄𐀬𐀠𐀊𐀍, her own Olympus. She looked to Chrisyphus and noted his pride. He was getting too much sleep since the princess שָׂרָה had left the Land of Oil along the Smelly-Banks for Ilenweewa and those-who-speak-the-regular-way. Chrisyphus pondered how to accomplish this impossible task. He asked those who brought the psygeío, but they were of 𐤀𐤉𐤔𐤐𐤍 and did not think his joke about Bruce Lee was very funny. They would not help him with his task....
(Note: I am neither dying nor planning to die. This is a just-in-case notification. Also, I wrote this ... like ... 15 years ago or so. I'm mostly going to leave it as originally written with some updates. I'll color and bold the updates.) There's been a lot of death around me of late. I don't know if it's just coincidental or if, because I'm getting older, people that I know seem to be dying more frequently. In the school where I teach, there's been at least four deaths of close family members within the last three months. In the time since I originally wrote this, my mother has died and an increasingly disturbing amount of family members. I'm now 50 so ... yeah. Recently, I sang at the funeral for a stillborn baby. It was ... surreal. There were pictures of the family with the baby and the baby himself. It reminded me of the once popular practice of "Death Portraits" or "Post-mortem Photography." The funeral was pretty ...