rejectomorph | Almost Midnight

One of the things about being off on the western edge of the continent is that, this time of night, I can sense everybody sleeping over there on the other side of the mountains, and it creates a sense of isolation. Then I wonder what it must have been like to be in the small city of San Francisco in the middle of the 19th century, when there was that mass of dark land between it and the rest of the country. Now there are electric towns and never-empty highways, and the east crowds up against the west. I wonder what everybody is dreaming about?

Anyway, no post earlier today because I was busy writing long replies to other posts. That happens. Maybe I'll get around to something early this morning. I don't know. I feel thick-witted. Television.