Here lies Martes Flavigula, eternally beneath the splintered earth.

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A High Probability that I Believed It
Jenn dubois
Fri, 17 Nov, 2023 19.31 UTC

On the drive up to Lubbock from Seminole today for my father’s surgery, I was suddenly gripped by the memory of lying on my back on the floor of Jenn DuBois’s apartment in Galveston. Dave was also present, and later that same evening he appropriated my truck. And luckily, my SHOVEL, which incidentally was one of my brilliant gifts for the beginning of the 23rd year of my life, was in the “toolbox” that stretched from side to side in the bed of the truck. More about that later.

I was lying on my back in Jenn DuBois’s apartment in Galveston. Her stereo system was in front of me, or more accurately, in front of my feet. I was listening to, at some volume, most likely, Here Comes the Flood by Peter Gabriel (the version from his first solo album). I was addled by alcohol. I was proclaiming over and over this is the best song in the history of the universe or some such rot. There’s a high probability that I believed it during that series of moments.

Though I am not completely certain, this was the same evening when Dave “borrowed” my truck to go driving on the beach. I was possibly too addled by alcohol to join him, so I hung out with Jenn. However, I have no clear recollection. During Dave’s adventures on the beach, he got my truck STUCK. That was when the shovel came into play.

I miss that guy.

Along with martens, goulish goats and the rippling fen -
these writings 1993-2023 by Bob Murry Shelton are licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0

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