Somewhere quiet. Somewhere cool; where the temperature rarely, if ever, reaches above the seventy-five degree mark. Somewhere clearly middle-class. Somewhere wooded with small lakes and winding rivers and ever-rushing waterfalls. And where there’s never a worry of rush-hour traffic.

Somewhere north of here. Way north of here.

Where people buy new cars out of necessity, not because they can. Where people are tasteful rather than fancy. Where, generally, showing-off is frowned upon.

Perhaps somewhere in Alaska. Because Canada isn’t likely to take you.

Fantasy aside, future ahead, if something isn’t finished then nothing will be published, and you will starve or you will freeze to death. If something isn’t finished and submitted and published and then purchased, your future is homelessness; your future is standing on street corners holding Going Out Of Business signs and selling Streetwise. Your future is likely this because you’re a spoiled brat and your chances of surviving another service-level gig are nil…

So, no pity, please, for the future bum, formerly choking on his silver spoon…

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