I had a crazy dream. I’m looking at a dude’s face on a house…I dig a hole in his yard…later I bump into him on a ledge. He says, why’d you dig up my yard? I tell him I didn’t dig up your yard, a turtle did it. A hundred and ninety year old Turtle. Dude nods like he knows already. He knows everything. He’s got a thirty foot face on his house…

How did I get here?

Same as it ever was…

Six a.m…Starbucks. My office. Storm’s blowing like hell. How’d I get here? Boat’s banging around in the wind. Don’t even try to figure shit out. You’ll just end up back where you started. I got close to seventy years clocked. I’m hanging with the good light at my favorite table beside the door, facing the barista counter. They like me here. They say, “Hey Gloomer. The usual?” A tall coffee with cream and 3 brown sugars on the side. Yeah. Same as it ever was. I don’t need to live no fuck’n hundred and ninety years. I could live a hundred and ninety fuck’n years…if you give me unlimited credit. Just debit my card. Polite Asian dude beside me nods. He knows how shit works. He could be from Manhattan. Asian dude is taking notes. Looks about my age. I’m thinking, A Hundred And Ninety fuck’n years of eating vegies and humping a big ass turtle for the good sex…life is beautiful!

The Oldest Living Land Animal

Wasn’t Napoleon stuck on Saint Helena?

They’re not even exactly sure how old this tortoise is…they think he’s a hundred and ninety but he could be two hundred and thirty. He spent the first fifty or so years of his life on the island of saint Helena. That means he could of been humping a big ass female turtle while Napoleon looked on.

Man, It’s Nine O’clock!

Time really flies when you’re blogging your ass off. Starbucks is packed. Line of people at the Barista counter. They like me here. Did I tell you that already? The thing about this fucking turtle. He’s a hundred and ninety or maybe older but he don’t give a shit. The scientists said that. They said, his calm disposition promotes longevity. Now how the fuck do they know that? They do turtle brain scans? Uh oh. What just happened? Asian dude left his wife at the table and moved to an adjoining table where a pair of slick dodo’s pitch him on some investment scam. They’re teaming up on his ass. He’s just looking on, nodding. They’re not pulling shineola over on his ass. He’s from Manhattan. I know this. How do I know this? I sense it. But the thing is, what the fuck good is it, giving a hundred and ninety years or maybe two hundred and fifty years to a big ass turtle? Give him all that time for nothing. Just give it to him! All so he can fuck a big ass turtle and eat vegies. And crawl around on the lawn. OR go for a swim. You ever see a turtle swim? It’s kind of cool. Wait a minute. Don’t those swimming turtles have fins? I don’t know. Maybe those are the prehistoric turtles. Shit, they’re all prehistoric. No…I…I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of shit. I got almost seventy years clocked and I don’t know nothing.

Could you clear this up for me?

Despite its pervasive presence in our thought and speech, time has no material substance. It is not directly perceivable through the senses – it does not look like anything or sound like anything. Nor is it something you can have direct motor knowledge about because it is not something you do. Yet across languages and cultures, people have converged upon globally similar solutions for thinking and talking about this most abstract of concepts. One such solution is to talk and think about time in terms of space.

National Library Of Medicine

Jesus…I feel better now.

It’s almost like my life has meaning. Give a bone headed turtle a hundred and ninety or maybe two hundred and fifty years on the planet. No big deal. It makes perfect sense.

Why give humans more time?

We’ll just fuck everything up in the end anyway. Faster than we’re doing at present.

Turtle’s Got A Haram

As of December 2015, Jonathan was reported to be “alive and well […] He’s blind from cataracts, has lost his sense of smell, and so cannot detect food (his fellow giants mug me and can detect the tiniest morsel dropped on the ground), but he has retained excellent hearing.”^[1] In January 2016, the BBC reported that Jonathan was given a new diet intended to keep him healthy and extend his life.^[12] Due to his old age, Jonathan spends his days doing almost everything with his mate, including eating, sleeping and mating.^[13]The sex of Frederica, one of two of his favourite tortoises thought to be female (the other being Emily), as well as his companion since 1991, was cast into doubt in 2017 when island veterinarian Catherine Man indicated that due to a deformity of its plastron its sex could not be verified.^[4] While Frederica was undergoing the examination, Jonathan came over and did not leave the side of Frederica and the veterinarian during the entire process.^[13]To mark Jonathan’s supposed 190th birthday in February 2022, island officials planned to make a series of commemorative stamps and visitors received a certificate featuring a photograph of his first known footprint.^[14]

Wikipedia

This bone head turtle. Good for him. He get’s the works while the rest of us grub for scraps. All of us? Not all of us. Just me. I’m grubbing for scraps. I’m out of work. I’m supposed to be looking for a job. Instead I’m jack’n off at Starbucks with this lucky ass turtle on my screen. Meanwhile, the scammers are saying to the Asian dude, “None of this is etched in stone,” but they need to rope him in. He’s from Manhattan. How do I know this? I sense it.

Corporate finance, one of the scammers says. That’s how I got into this industry. Asian is telling them he’s gotta think about it. He needs time. A scammer says, Now here’s the thing…I’m looking over at his wife, huddled alone, reading a book written in Chinese.

Chinese books you read from right to left…I think.

I think you do. Maybe not. That was a long ass time ago they read books like that.

Or it could be same as it ever was.

I’m out of here.