Wrenching the Human Machine

The biological gears of the human machine slowed to a crawl and then stopped. The flow of blood was oil at peak performance, then molasses, then cold gravy, wet sand, then stagnant water. Thicker than nothing. We stood in a circle around the center. Our intellectual minds knew what had just happened but our emotional minds were trapped in the seconds before, when the platelet assembly was still pumping plasma and little red inner tubes. The woman from Denmark disappeared. Grandma became a body. A derelict machine. There is no humanity in a corpse.

Introduction

My name is Christopher Bell. I live in Kalamazoo MI, but not by choice. I was born here, and I grew up here, but I do not belong to this town. I feel a little bit out of place, as though I'm always just visiting. I have nothing against the city, its bars, restaurants, movie theaters or people; I just don't feel terribly close to a lot of it. There are exceptions, of course - I have spent twenty two years here - but these are connections I could have made anywhere. These are friendships that are independent of the city. I could have been born anywhere.
Mom. Dad. if you read this, don't worry. The goal is not to get away from you. I don't feel cheated. I don't feel unwelcome. I just feel like going somewhere else. Anywhere else. Not because I hate it here, but because I think a life spent in the same spot from beginning to end is a sadly wasted one. There is too much stuff out there to be ignored, passing the time from birth until death in the same place. When I reach the ripe age of almost dead, I will look back and interpret the success of my life based on the answers to two questions: "Have I been able to live in many places, while also frequently visiting those I've left behind." and "Have I owned at least one tailored suit."
So, parents and anyone else who might worry, I do not want to leave you behind. All I want is to seriously expand the borders of my own personal universe.