I probably shouldn't make more of this than it is but I wish it didn't make so much fucking sense. I have, in piques of maudlin sentiment, been entirely convinced of higher powers in The Universe and will still get on my knees and pray. There exists in me a powerful superstition that impels me to kneel and give thanks when the odd really good thing happens. There was one incredibly well-timed bailout recently that has had me down on the floor at bedside so many times that goat-knee-callouses are forming.
Then some rational beast inside bitchslaps me and demands to know what the fuck is wrong with me. Why not someone from the future in place of a benevolent astral grandpa?
But of course this window-missive from Tasmania is only whimsy. It does open the floor to questions though.
Or rather, please come soon and set a few motherfuckers straight.