Saturday, April 07, 2007
Well, I got married again, six years ago, to a Guatamalan lemur; not the animal, of course. We have a cell in the mountains. Her father's the chief, and I'm the main gunner, bottle-washer and general factotum. We're in hiding 1900% of the time. You wouldn't believe how tough it is. No hot water, no coffee, no light after sundown, no heat. During the day we operate a workbench; two rows of men with iron pipes, turning everything in the world into flat entropic mush. Our women are exhausted, constantly pregnant. But look at you, sitting in the lap of luxury. No, I don't want to explore. I'm not interested in seeing what a brightly-polished tunnel you've grubbed for yourself. Stop it, I don't want to hear what you think about anything.