nintey-nine cents, no reserve
November 29th, 2004The thought that the world is in the process of ending hasn’t left me. The imminent doom isn’t as near as it was, but the horizon lurches forward, as though I’ve crossed some sort of peak or ridge and I can see for some distance.
So I am moving faster, now. Triage on every moment cash out where possible and pack your backpack. Dad sent me lightsticks, so we can walk all night if we must.
First, I must clean up this mess I have here. Beginning with the basement. Anything that is not plugged in and can be plugged in must go. Anything that is duplicitous must go. Anything that is sentimental must be documented.
