Thirsty As The Devil Himself For A Can Of Coca-Cola

If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.

I understand that much of this material –such as it is– falls under the category of inscrutable. Some have gone so far as to call it impenetrable. At any rate, I’m willing to acknowledge that the bulk of what I have to say is more or less pure, private static –babble in the common parlance.

Depending on how charitable you’re willing to be, I’m either talking off the top of my head or talking out of my ass.

I don’t suppose I can even claim that there’s any method to this madness.

I have long felt compelled to ramble, is what it really boils down to. And I am also something of an obsessive fellow. It’s not so much that I have a tendency to get carried away, as that I often feel as if I am literally being carried away; I sense that I am being swept along by forces I can neither control nor understand.

The words are driven from me by a bellowing old fellow who once upon a time rode a swift and ornery horse. These days he does his work from one of those all-terrain vehicles.

If this man –I guess he is a sort of cowboy or shepherd– was not ceaselessly vigilant the words would likely overwhelm my head and I’ve no doubt I would eventually choke to death on them.

I guess you could say, then, that this fellow’s presence is something of a mixed blessing.

All the same, I do sometimes wonder if I wouldn’t be happier without him.