Here, you will see none of the hard work and creativity that is currently going on offline. It is happening though. Quietly.
Welcome to Jandley’s Fork. It’s a rural town too small and insignificant to have any need for a real tour guide, so you’ll have to do with me. You can call me Sturjmond if you like. Otherwise, don’t.
While things of interest to visitors rarely happen here in the Fork, things do happen. Recently, things have been happening because of (or just nearby) a certain glass box. This box is completely full of water and contains a fish, which might be why folks call it the Fishbox.
It has no openings, so many have wondered just how the fish got in there and how it can live with no food or water replacement. It just floats there, happy as a fish and no one knows how or why. I, an amateur tour guide, do not think it is my place to speculate on the matter. I’ll leave that to the oceanographers and since Jandley’s Fork is 7,000 kilojimbles inland, there aren’t any. So that, along with the Fishbox’s improbably light weight, will remain a mystery.
Yesterday is a day much like most other days and much unlike many more. That last sentence was written in present tense because yesterday will be with me long after that 24-hour span has passed (which it already has) and writing it in past tense would deny it’s continuing continuity. And that would be wrong.
You see, my invisible or nonexistent reader, yesterday is the day that I am ordered by a glass of water to write more blog updates. More specifically, I will write one update for each day that passes between now and the day on which 30 updates have been updated.
I do not know why or how this glass of water spoke to me, but until I find out, I will blindly follow its instructions and hope it does not ask me to do anything impossible, disagreeable, or otherwise not.
Any music posted here instantly becomes elevator music. I will try to give opinions on other things instead from now on.