Muscle Charger Heaven

Every time I think about heaven I’m covered in muscles and surrounded by much read books. All of them mine, the muscles I made and the books I wrote. There’s someone else there too. Sort of a hybrid between a demon and a woman. As far as I can see, there are no other dudes around. A flock of demon/woman hybrids, but no dudes. I only want the one hybrid, the rest are nude backup singers. Part of the entertainment. If I’m gonna spend eternity somewhere, it’s gotta be interesting. A sausage party is not, trying to keep up with more than one of hell’s furies at a time is not.

Open my eyes and heaven is gone. Just me. A few muscles are coming along pretty well for my age, but all I’ve got surrounding me are the aborted fetuses of books and fragments that never made it to term.

Real life is more like a watered down drink off the bottom shelf while you sit there, loopy & unfocused, admiring the full bottles up top. No one drinks from those. Lots of people say they do, but they only drink from the higher shelves, never the top one. I think those bottles are statues. They keep us aspiring towards what’s not really there.

The other thing about real life that’s tough to live with is that right now is too early to start drinking, even from the watered down bottom shelf. Right now is the wrong side of my workout. It could be done, but it’s such a buzzkill, neither is worth the effort. Right now is time for a swim in the iron pile, not a splash in the stream of unconsciousness.

The kettlebell is the missing link between heaven and earth. A few two handed swings will loosen me up for the long swim ahead. There are barbells to hoist, dumbbells to thrust, and all the above to press, pull and curl. The tightly wound center of gravity of the kettlebell makes it feel heavier than it is, but once it loosens me up, it and the rest of the iron buzz with wings and fly with ease.

This my well be the closest I get to heaven, but if sweating is what it takes to get there, I may already be closer than I’ll ever know. Deep breath on the kettlebell’s retreat, exhale on the outward advance, and I’m fine if I never get any closer than this.

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