Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Post History

They found one of us in a bog, but here I am in the latest possible century, encouraging my pet dogs in the exploitation of grasses. Smoking something like turf in a bowl, I'm sure I wd also be swilling infusions, eating my fellow if that were something that ever caught on culturally in vogue. I've gotten better comforts and what else. Better comforts better be and are after all all. Is my god better. My god is kinder cuz he's mostly gone. Remote slumlording is something you can't take personally. And all the better in case you want to water a little patch of ground, just so the pups can see how it was in the virgin forest. Add it to their digestion, watch them puke away the side effects of modernity/ post history. After history I suppose it could mean there's no more great surprise events. You just figure out nature is this way or another; men are just so, and that's that. Whatever happens you're like yeah right whadid I tell you. That's not history, or even any kind of present to speak of, and it sure the hell ain't the future.


1 comment:

  1. He's still pissed off about how the future turned out.