Let's Get Metaphysical

I don't know about you, but I'm fed up with this mortal shit.* I've decided, upon careful reflection, that I'd rather be a never-ending pulse of disembodied glowing energy. Who's with me?

Well, you have to come with me. Being immortal wouldn't be any fun at all if you had to watch everyone you love die. You have to put up with too much of that being mortal; if you lived forever it would be completely unbearable.

Bodies are just a mess. Things go wrong, they fall apart; and frankly I'm starting to suspect sabotage. How can such a fundamentally friendly, nurturing creature as a female breast, for instance, suddenly go haywire and kill you? (You, here, referring to the person it's attached to - I'm thinking of cancer, not suggesting that breasts routinely go off on transportational killing sprees, though technically I suppose mine could smother people if they really wanted to. But no. They are friendly.)

(For now.)

It's an infinitesimally small thing on any grand scale, or a tiny scale for that matter, but there's something wrong with the calf muscle of my left leg. I had trouble with it last year, too, but it got better and I forgot about it. But today after work, as I was hurrying across Riverside, something suddenly went SNAP like a rubber band being pulled across a peg and it hurts like a sonofabitch and just for the moment I can't walk.

So basically I've just had it with bodies. What are they good for? I haven't had any serious fun with mine in ages anyway. Can't we all just become everlasting orbs of celestial light already? Like, yesterday?

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*That sounds familiar. Isn't that the first line of some famous Shakespeare soliloquy?