HISTORY
1. xyphoid (zyfoid) adj. Shaped
like a sword. Of or relating to the xiphisternum. [Greek xiphoeids: xiphos, sword + -oid.] Source: The American
HeritageŽ Dictionary of the English Language
2. xyphoid \Xiph"oid\ a. [xi`fos a sword shape.] (a) Like a sword;
ensiform. (b) Of or pertaining to the xiphoid process; xiphoidian.
Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary
3. Xyphoid (Tales of) n. Imagination.
Land of make-believe. Infinite creative thought. Source: John
Morgan Curtis
Tales of Xyphoid's origin began in my high school sophomore year health class. We would practice CPR and mouth to mouth on a plastic dummy affectionately named "Annie". She looked just human enough to be disturbing. If anyone had to go through this process, then you know what I mean. Her eyes were closed, but could be lifted up to check her vapid life-less stare. Only equipped with an upper torso and poorly clothed in cheap gym sweats, she looked like a sad car accident victim.
  
Looking like dangling intestines, she had wires connected to a miniature stop light. If you performed CPR correctly, the green light would flash. If you were almost correct, the yellow light lit up, and the red light was for completely dangerous form. While an occasional romantic kiss erupted the class in laughter as she unceremoniously travelled from student to student, the real fun happened when our teacher would leave the room. The class would find the most violent way to get a red light. If anything else, Annie was resilient.
One of tricks of finding the right spot to perform CPR was to locate the xyphoid located at the base of the sternum. If you run your fingers down your sternum until you reach a depression, that's the xiphisternum or xyphoid process. I thought "xyphoid" was a fantastic word, as well as being a functioning word that started with "X". One gets real tired of hearing "X is for Xylophone".
 
Another past time of mine was doodling on my school folders. During class I would begin at a spot and start drawing. After a few weeks, every inch of my folder would be covered in ink. My art didn't escape notice as many of my peers at the desks around me would ask to see my folder. It passed around the classroom until the teacher would occasionally confiscate it. Ironically enough, it was my health teacher that asked to have a parent teacher conference concerning "the disturbing images on my folders." My father looked at my folders and inquired what these images were. I replied they were stream of conscious doodles that didn't mean anything. That was enough for him. He went into the conference and diligently defended me and gave a piece of his mind to my teacher for wasting his time. Thanks Dad!
 
“Xyphoid” often found itself repeatedly amongst my folders. Finally through association, all my creations lived in a place called Xyphoid. From there, Xyphoid expanded from a being place to becoming synonymous with imagination, but it was my land of imagination in all its twisted glory and beauty. Xyphoid became a platform for which anything goes, everything is possible, and especially, no rules. The only thing to hold me back is the limit of my own imagination. These stories, songs, and ideas are simply Tales of Xyphoid. |
How I became the Emperor of the Universe
Three days before my college graduation I had
an enlightening encounter with the prophet "Bruce”
at a giant warehouse party in Chicago. Bruce was a former Marine
in his forties with a Mohawk and was one of those overly-zealous
individuals where his throttle is stuck at 100 MPH. He was clamoring
on about how shaving your head and his Mohawk was a symbolic
expression of freedom. While chatting I told him about the time
when I was in Kindergarten and my teacher asked me what I wanted
to be when I grew up. Instead of replying a fireman or a doctor
like the other kids, I declared, "I want to be the Emperor
of the Universe!" My teacher didn’t like this very
much and made me sit out in the hallway while everyone else
had playtime. She then had a heart to heart talk with me to
inform me that my ambitions should be something much more realistic
like becoming a businessman or an accountant. Bruce was furious
after hearing this story. I agreed with him saying that was
no reason not to be able to participate in playtime. Bruce emphatically
shouted "No!" He grabbed me and stated that I should
never sell myself short and that if I wanted to be the Emperor
of the Universe, then I should become the Emperor of the Universe.
Bruce was quite insistent on the idea, so much so that I discreetly
departed from the party to escape Bruce’s fastidious ire.
For the next three days I couldn’t escape the recollection
of my kindergarten proclamation. After much deliberation, I
came to the inevitable conclusion – Bruce was right!
At my graduation ceremony I arrived with my
new shaved head much to the embarrassing detriment of my parents.
I went on stage, got my diploma, shook the President’s
hand, and then took a beeline to the microphone, which was still
live. In front of thousands of people
I officially announced that I was the Emperor of the Universe. Now
mind you, I was met with the resounding sound of silence, but
it didn’t matter, it was official – I was the Emperor
of the Universe. Some people think this story is a joke, some
think I’m incredibly arrogant, and some people I’m
happily pleased to know get it - never sell yourself short,
you can be anything you want in this world, and who knows, you
might find yourself as the Emperor of the Universe.
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Official Biography
John Morgan Curtis is an educator, artist, and filmmaker from Chicago, Illinois. He received his BA in Film & Illustration from Columbia College and his Master of Science in Information Systems from Roosevelt University. More commonly known by his nickname, the Emperor of the Universe, he performs in the rock band Captain Pyrite, has recorded two full-length albums, and has toured America extensively. The Emperor actively creates short films and animations that have appeared at such festivals such as the Chicago Underground Film Festival, Chicago Short Comedy Video & Film Festival, and the WTTW television show, Image Union. In addition he produces a satirical underground comic book anthology Tales of Xyphoid.
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About the Author
John Morgan Curtis traveled from outer space on a shooting star. He parachuted down to Earth on a Stargrass seed where his parents found him. His parents were quite lucky in finding all of their children. They found John Morgan’s older brother, Tim Marshall, under a mushroom and the eldest child, Tracey Lee, in a blooming tulip. All three children had golden blonde hair. The parents believed elves had secretly hidden gold in the children’s hair from the Wicked Wretch (sort of like a witch, but far, far worse). Slowly over time, the elves retrieved their gold explaining why the children’s hair is no longer blonde. The family of five grew up happily, safe from the Wicked Wretch. Tracey Lee was quite lucky in finding three daughters of her own. The first was found in the center of a kidney bean, the second as a Christmas tree ornament, and the third downloaded from the Internet. Tim Marshall bought a yacht and sailed the seven seas until he found his queen and discovered their daughter in the center of a coconut. John Morgan became the Emperor of the Universe and traveled the world in search of his true love. Jealous (and still angry about her lost gold), the Wicked Wretch sought to keep true love apart. The harder she conspired to keep the two apart, the more they were drawn together by fate. Love conquered all when the Emperor met the Goddess Courtney. They married and live with two small creatures that most people think are cats.
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