When It Thrashes

  The entirety of Freemasonville’s nexus and plexus of electricity is constantly cutting off and on. And internet outages are causing outrage online. Everything electric is ironically flaring and dying and surging. The social performance of a modern writer is most concerned in the tailoring of the ambition of the private person so the public audible proof doesn’t repel what the polished musical prose instills in memory. What does your drive best resemble? Mine’s more than less an old moonshinerunner’s circuit. A jaunt I’m taking at triple digit velocities for undisclosed cash sums. Traveling by way of slashing through deep South Caroline country, cutting whole hours in half in multiple hundred mile bursts. The jag burning rubber only to decelerate before I’m over the line then overtaking sluggish ant lines of traffic behind logging trucks on crisp two lane roads bisecting National Forest territory populated by the thickest of thickset woods studded with mansions featuring cream