Here on Mars there isn’t a lot of call for gears – the dust tends to gum them up, but gear sculptures, now there’s a lovely thing. Also, we like our sundowners, although we tend to have them indoors away from the dust and redness, and things that make us testy, like the temperature (too hot, and too cold, really, for a koala bear, let alone a feline bear). Other than that, cheers, friends, and bottoms up, for Cissy Fwoppingham-Smythe is already breathless for her next flagon.
I’d like to be able to say that there are relaxing oceans on Mars, but to tell you the truth, I’m just not certain. There is so much more to explore, and melt. But right now, I’m about to find a delightful deck chair, a tuna martini, and a couple of cubist friends with whom to jibber-jabber until the stars emerge. Goodnight.
When I meditate, or engage in complex and nuanced yoga poses, I am invariably sleeping. Don’t knock it, it works; also, if you knock it, you’ll wake me up, and I will be cranky. Arguably, dreaming of such things is as effective as doing them, and who are we to say we are dreaming or we are real-ing? Hmmm? Now I must return to my weight-lifting – the 250kg snatch and beef jerky, shall we say?
We are really getting into, and onto, sculpture, here on Mars, and we hope you like it very much. Otherwise, well, like it anyway, there’s nothing to dislike, really, about modern sculpture. After all, who knows anything about it or why it even exists except to make us all feel calm and happy after a long, hard day at the solar-face (which is gradually replacing the coal-face, though you will work no less hardly, harder, hard, like very squashed coal). There are diamonds here somewhere.