And find yourself in an existential quandary
Full of loathing and self-doubt
And wracked with the pain and isolation of your pitiful meaningless existence
At least you can take a small bit of comfort in knowing that
Somewhere out there in this crazy mixed-up universe of ours
There’s still a little place called… Joel’s Gulch*.
Things have been really slow at the watering station lately. The buzzard is the only regular visitor. Those evening mulies are the first biggish animals I’ve seen there in weeks. Dunno who the old fart is.
I’ve heard a rumor that the cattle might return in November, as the cattle outfit that has the grazing rights to my front yard are thinking of using it for winter range. Don’t know if that’ll really happen.
*with apologies to Al Yankovic…