Future Dump

It’s got potential. Especially when you’re desperate for content. I lie around in my little world and wonder what to do next just to get through this thing. What thing? And I know it’s hard. It’s what keeps me going. Being hard. As rock. Harder. Softer.

And, vastly more important, keeps you, honoured followers, going. Going where? Or as they say in old Mexico Mas importante. Is that really true? I mean that they say that in old Mexico? What about New Mexico?

Some days it just gets strange. There goes the cliché alarm. Darn. Forgot to turn it off before I came in here. Whoop whoop.

Some days you do everything the same but it doesn’t make any difference, other days you do things differently and it doesn’t make any difference. It’s still change. And you need change for the parking meter. Keep paying and everything’s good. Or you can phone it in. It’s expensive but you make lots of money. No issue.

Time to sell. That’s my advice. Get out while you can. Whoop whoop. Take the money and run. Whoop. It was a funny joke. What did it mean? We forget. Something about endlessly postponing things into the future where nobody’ll ever get at them.

“Future dump,” she said. And then I laughed and said, “Or it could be a sign. ‘Site of Future Dump’.” We roared.

The saw guys are back here somewhere in the immediate neighbourhood, not sure exactly where. It’s just before sundown. Saw saw. Gotta get it cut before dark, whatever it is.

October is a storied month and we’ll be reading some of those stories in the days ahead. I hope you’ll join us.