“How Came I Hither?”

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  “I observed in the herbage a number of weather-worn stones, evidently shaped with tools. They were broken, covered with moss and half sunken in the earth. Some lay prostrate, some leaned at various angles, none was vertical. They were obviously headstones of graves, though the graves themselves no longer existed as either mounds or depressions; the years had leveled all. Scattered here and there, more massive blocks showed where some pompous tomb or ambitious monument had once flung its feeble defiance at oblivion. So old seemed these relics, these vestiges of vanity and memorials of affection and piety, so battered and worn and stained—so neglected, deserted, forgotten the place, that I could not help thinking myself the discoverer of the burial-ground of a prehistoric race of men whose very name was long extinct. Filled with these reflections, I was for some time heedless of the sequence of my own experiences, but soon I thought, “How came I hither?”” An Inhabitant of Carcosa B...

Based on a true story

(dedication: to my teens)

There's this sign
At this place
I go to put gas in my car.
It says, like,
''Open 6 a.m. to 12 p.m."
They used to stay open till midnight.

There's this guy
Who owns this place
That sells me gas for my car.
The sign used to say, like, "12 a.m."
But some lady said that wasn't midnight,
So he changed it.

There's this lady
At this place
who takes my money for the gas.
My wifes, like,
"You can go home--it's 6:oo p.m."
But the lady's working till midnight.

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