We only think of days and months to keep track of times that aren't now. Fuck days. Fuck months. This was how it was going to be from now on: forever.
All good books are about everything, abbreviated.
Again, for the record, let me restate: you can't be rude to a coffee grinder and only an idiot would thank it for pulverizing beans. But you could, and probably should, unplug it if it doesn't shut up.
Clocks are as pointless on the Tennessee as poets are on Earth.
