Ça est ça. THAT is that.. There must be a can somewhere on Mars by now, not the brand spanking new virtual Mars, the old one, where robots dream of finding Martian auto parts stores. I return some to nature obviously. But machines have always been part of the family. I broke my interior monologue because of carpentry and dereliction from the end of the big bad(?) scary world. Repairing things is difficult but not impossible. Would I rebuild the world if it was destroyed? Perhaps for a place for all of us to thrive and succeed in this tense 21st Century. I haven't switched to a new calendar yet. Or monitored the conditions of endangered species for some time. Off to the the new punk rock classic song I concocted a few days ago. More of a riff than anything. A novel idea, too many novels I wish I had the time to read and write and dream up and blame on Homer or Don Q. True.
Two other songs for daylight:
Risin: Country Western optimism.
Smoking Cessation: Country Eastern pessimism.
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| A halo with an eclipse? |
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