Beer. It Always Seems Like Such A

There’s No Way To Really Preserve A Person When They’ve Gone And That’s Because Whatever You Write Down It’s Not The Truth, It’s Just A Story. Stories Are All We’re Ever Left With In Our Head Or On Paper: Clever Narratives Put Together From Selected Facts, Legends, Well Edited Tall Tales With Us In The Starring Roles

It's A Stark Thought That When We Die Most Of Us Will Leave Behind Uneaten Biscuits, Unused Coffee, Half Toilet Rolls, Half Cartons Of Milk In The Fridge To Go Sour; That Everyday Functional Things Will Outlive Us And Prove That We Weren't Ready To Go; That We Weren't Smart Or Knowing Or Heroic; That We Were Just Animals Whose Animal Bodies Stopped Working Without Any Sort Of Schedule Or Any Consent From Us.

Already The Dream Was Coming Apart, Its Bright Silk Strands Unwinding Into Nebulous Emotions, Little Coloured Clouds Of Feeling Being Dispersed By The Movement Of My Waking-up Mind. This Is How It's Always Been With Light Bulb Fragment Dreams; By The Time I'm Fully Awake, They're Gone.

Texas Has No System In Place, And What You Have Is Chaos.

The Environmental Assessment Should Give Us The Answers To All The Issues That Have Been Raised: Potential Lead Migration, Endangered Species, Noise Abatement And Proper Disposal Of Shot, Shells And Things.