You may recall the four day hole in the spill from a couple weeks ago. I’ve half-filled it with things I wanted to say without mucking up forward progress with the stupid lying politics of oligarchy. The posts live here and here, asynchronously, a bafflement to my many future biographers I’m sure.

In a related development, after a day and a half I had to power down the phone again for my own increasingly marginal sanity. Ya’ll go on ahead. I’ll catch up eventually.

***

Speaking of sanity, mine can survive on four hundred square feet if it has to, so long as those 400 are truly and solely mine. Thus my soul has whipped south again and settled on that as the new proximate target. I am a dodger of human bullets.

In yesterday’s sun I unbolted a cross member from the lumber rack with the intention of taking it to the House Depot and looking for whatever it would take to make a duplicate. I think this will include a Baby’s First Welder.

But today I didn’t drive down there. I did get as far as completely emptying this compromised house of all the waste, including the half of it that comes out of cat’s asses.

Now the sun sets slower and slower to the tune of a Steve Earle song
or two.