Imagine an uppercase U. A big U. Look at it from above. Let’s pretend that this U is your tongue. Now let’s pretend that you are in an airplane over the Gulf of Mexico and you’re happily eating some pumpkin seeds and reading the issue of Wired with Stephen Colbert on the cover and you haven’t even thought about your tongue in months and months. Are you still with me? Now look at that capital U / your tongue. See the top left-hand side? Let’s say we hit a little turbulence and your back teeth slice right the hell through that. There is blood. And pain. Oh, God, the pain. Fast forward 24 hours. It still hurts. It hurts to swallow. It hurts to talk. Are you going to take that U / your tongue for granted again? I didn’t think so.
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tongue
Lost and Found
I’ve felt a little out of sorts for the last several months. Nothing big, mind you; just a little off. I didn’t even notice it until last night, really. Linus used to freak out Charlie Brown every now and then by reminding him about his tongue. Old Chuck would get all squirmy thinking about his tongue and where it was in his mouth and how he could feel it in there. They called it, “being aware of your tongue” and I always liked that phrase as a way of describing when things just seem a little out of alignment.
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