The Futureless Box

Well, gentle reader, you were right: Now I’m trapped inside this futureless box. There is no time here, because time got jammed up — there’s only a past here but nothing more, like Highway 77. I’d love to know who’s responsible for barring the future from this interior — whoever did that is really a fox. They knew exactly how to get underneath my skin: Being confined by an item that’s futureless is one of my biggest pet peeves, since it’s so hard to escape — some think it might even be impossible. Thus I’m sitting here with barely enough room to move around, inside a time-free past; and there’s nothing to do but try to remain patient. Look: right now, I’m conjuring new ways to string live bait. So I appreciate your hopes and prayers, and all your well-wishes — I’ll need all the luck I can get, to avoid achieving a state of super-sanity that transcends both pleasure and pain.