or did we make him in ours
No. No no I don’t. Of course not. But you get my meaning.
gollyland is a place where you can’t create and you can’t consume.
That’s where I am right now.
That’s where you are right now.
Void and static.
And for the longest time, this is all I can think.
Franky likes to ask you where you’re “at” all the time. Location matters to him. It’s his way of keeping tabs on you. And by you, I mean me.
“I don’t know,” I say, giving him the round-the-mill answer. “In some ways, I’m over here. In other ways, I’m over there. My body could be in one place, but my mind could be elsewhere.”
I say this because I’ve already used Los Angeles, San Diego, and Cleveland for an answer.
And he says, “Where you at?”
And I say, “You know Franky. I don’t know where I am, but I know where you are. In my mind.”
That should give me another couple days.
There should’ve been muscles in our feet and hands to optimize circulation to our extremities, but no, all we have are tendons and bones. Our body isn’t homeostatic when it comes to regulating temperature. Whoever designed us was stupid.