As bona fide participants, we've agreed to work together to obstruct the process. Our means have not varied in the least over time but our devotion has taken on a new, if somnolent, edge. When we meet near a town in the coming weeks, I have promised an extreme decisiveness in my presentation. I've handed around a worksheet with everyone's prints consolidated into one overbearing conjob. For this I'm excused and asked to reconsider if my future depends on a deepening sense of crisis. If so, then the results of my labwork should be very interesting. If not, then one or more of my forebears will receive a link to a crucial benefit in a mail-drop down Toledo way. Either way, some might aver that I'm screwed, but I fail to see where the rubber meets any surface, paved or not.
On a pushed back chair in a nondescript office on the boundary of an obscure railhead, I'm heard singing along with an 80s style boombox, while the person who would go on to become my customary Aunt is working to provide a stinging rebuke to one of my most truculent opponents, and by the looks of it, she's bent more than a few dozen ears in the process. When I rise to propound my latest opinion into a reframed blessing cup, we all start getting a newly solid idea of where we could take this thing. I'm all for leaking silent threads on fabricated listservs which are restricted to client-side malvers in the current make up. But I'm also told to wash my tongue or else someone might help themselves the only way they know how. Pretty it ain't!
There's a defunct shipyard near my penalty box where someone has displayed a selection of items which could prove useful when the name I use has absorbed a newly stentorian qualismo. They (the items) are arrayed to form a half circle which benefits no one except those who work by feeling alone. Alone in the dark, that is. They've already announced that they'll trail us at a distance while we ply an effect of stale light on wogs. As it unfolds, I'll be forced to admit that I'm essentially 'green' on all of this. And, just to be clear, in this context the word 'green' is no way related to environmental activism. The problem we're all having is a result of our unfamiliarity with the use of slate cards in place of decoy piles. They make us look like the rank amateurs we swore to never appear to be. And that's what we call 'a situation'. But I don't care. Why? Because I've never seen how these things are supposed to make anyone feel better. I think you would too if anyone gave you the time of day. Okay?
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