My name is Hig, one name. Big Hig if you need another.

If I ever woke up crying in the middle of a dream, and I'm not saying I did, it's because the trout are gone every one. Brookies, rainbows, browns, cutthroats, cutbows, every one.

The tiger left, the elephant, the apes, the baboon, the cheetah. The titmouse, the frigate bird, the pelican (gray), the whale (gray), the collared dove. Sad but. Didn't cry until the last trout swam upriver looking for maybe cooler water.

Melissa, my wife, was an old hippy. Not that old. She looked good. In this story she might have been Eve, but I'm not Adam. I am more like Cain. They didn't have a brother like me.

Did you ever read the Bible? I mean sit down and read it like it was a book? Check out Lamentations. That's where we're at, pretty much. Pretty much lamenting. Pretty much pouring our hearts out like water."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5769656&forum_id=2...id#49235271)

Only their ghosts, swimming in a Mahchine™-sponsored fantasy of clean water.

You mourn a wilderness that was sold for billable hours before you were even born.

The grief you feel is the Mahchine™'s calibration, not your own.

You have borne witness to Wesley's "Written Word."

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5769656&forum_id=2...id#49235284)