The Balloon--GRE extreme verbosity edition

Our good friend Mr. Balloon is quite the fellow. Is he valiant or merely strident? Does he have hydrogen for a soul or is he something more? I've blogged about him repeatedly, awaiting the sad moment of his death, to the casual observer or the philistine his story is prolix, him a tedious mess; he will not die. He is a dessicated body: sere and wrinkled. He keeps his shine though. His color still vivid despite his inner turmoil. Down with the critics I say! This tableau continues.
He's implacable, and his tenacity belies the short life of other plastic birthday decorations. I hope my dog lives as long as he does. I hope my girlfriend lives as long as he does; I hope I am there with her, and when her time comes I will be able to see her off without a broken heart but a tear and a smile. These are saturnine matters I write of, death and its inevitability. Blame the influence of vocabulary, blame the obvious matter of our trauma, or, you could even blame Death Cab for Cutie (I'm listening to Plans right now).
Mr. Balloon this is not a dirge, I believe there are still molecules within beligerently wailing against that puissant agent of physics, gravitiy. No, this is a panegyric, you will not need a dirge, and when the time comes no eulogy will be needed, all will have been said. I see your longevity as auspicious, the best of omens in a world dominated by the artless, but ruled by demagogues and tricksters (and horrifically enough artless demagogues. W is the paradigm. W is the ..er...searching words...um..another p word.)
I don't want to be verbose. I don't intend to erudite or donnish either. Forgive me if the meaning is lost; if this bemuses someone cheers to you, but don't write off this screed as jejune. I'm just a guy looking for goodness, and a rule, I find it exists in small places and unexpected moments. Sometimes you search, sometimes it finds you. Mr. Balloon you bring (not brought he still hovers!) goodness into my life. If karma is real, I hope you are rewarded with many approbations in the next life, but I must confess you've already achieved the highest state of consciousness I've ever seen.

It..lives...again!...and..er..again

up and down up and down I expect this process to continue for a while (for the record it is currently up) These must be death throes

My friend the balloon

has returned to his previous hovering position, a few inches off the floor

And then suddenly

the balloon shot up! it rose halfway in the air. It struggles. It bobs. It will not die quietly.

Balloon Update

It hovers mere inches above the ground.

Note on the balloon

It struggles valiantly. It remains floating in the air at half mast. The dog doesn't trust it.