Conner—the only living human I have ever acknowledged as a better writer than I . . . though that was some time ago—and me, we were talking that pretty recent time about the arrogance of selecting words. How, every time, when we sit down to write a Libel, we alight upon a first word, inscribe it, and thereby reject millions of others. And, what the fuck, hubris, is that? Every time, in selecting a word, kicking aside, all those millions, of others? Who, are we, in that? God? Well. Yeah. Realizing, we, are all the way back, to Yahweh: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” But, you know, soon, with Yahweh, it was not at all, with the Word, working out. He was tossing people out the Garden, tearing down Babel, blasting Gomorrah, flooding the whole planet, all the many etceteras. With, the Word, Yahweh, he thought he could make, a perfect world. But, he was just a blinded motherfucker. I: know: this. Because: I: am one: too. The mooning, in the words, the Word, of wanting, to make, a more perfect world. Which, will, never, happen. But, we try, anyway. Yahweh. Conner. Me. All, we all. Boats, against the current; borne back, forward, into, the forever, past, future, eternal. Are we fools? We are fools. Up all and every ying-yang. So. Go ahead. Laugh. Just laugh. All you all. Motherfuckers. As we fail. And we fail. As all our tears. Like water. Flow. As, upon them, we sail. As we sail. And we sail. Sail, to Caledonia. Lookin’. For all. You all. A brand new. Start . . . .