Wed Sep, 16 2009
Shacks Unborn
I just looked at a pile of timbers. They're laying there in a small field where an old barn fell over. There are all kinds of shapes and sizes, some rough-hewn as big as 16"x16" and thirty feet long. Naturally, when I see them, I see building framing, and the person who owns them said that I could take what I want. This is the second or third time he's said it, and it's always been implicit: I could almost roll up there in the middle of the night and start jacking them out without a word. I helped move some of them into that pile after the barn went down, but I hadn't really looked at them lately.
The sick rot of it all is that the very next thing one must account for is how much all the vampires from here to Albany would suck out of the project of so much as pinning a dozen of the goddamned things together upright.
To any seriously thinking person, that must just kick the heart out of it all.




