plenty of nothing

Queen Elizabeth is fixing to die at Balmoral Castle. Her dying in Scotland during one of the biggest blooms of separatism in ‘Alba’ would be quite a punctuation mark to her reign. No English monarch has died in Scotland since the 16th C.

She cooed over me in my crib at Pion-Era in Saskatoon in 1959.

Her dying is going to cast me down for a long time; I’ll try not to trouble anyone really anticolonial with my feelings, but it’s hard to have two English grandfathers and not have those feelings.

Each time I think I’m being too lazy I remember my foremothers busted ass on housework and clothing construction/maintenance every gd day of their lives, so if I read novels and eat nuked cakes in a cup (my own recipe) they are smiling down on me. They wish I’d accept Christ though, and that’s a tough one.

3005 words.

Buster killt him a rat day before yesterday. Jeff has already dealt with the corpse.

Keith bopped by with two coolers full of frozen food a couple of days ago since the fridge over there died, and I took stuff out of out freezer to put theirs in. SADLY the ice cream horns touted as treats ARE TOO GROSS which is awful because Jeff and I both enjoy them, so we’ll have to throw them out. Anyway, it was good to be of service to the family. – I guess I’m voting for him. He just cleaned a hunnert pounds of trash offa Boundary Road.



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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

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