Alex Peak


2009/07/27:  May I Change My Flag?

Also available in .txt.

For some reason, a group of people are wishing to alter the nature of their flag.  I know nothing about this flag, and cannot even acquire a good look at it because every time it could conceivably fall within my sight, there just so happened to be a person blocking my view.

Nevertheless, my friend Mike expresses concern over this desire to alter the flag.  I find myself confused by his concern.  I try to present the argument that, since a person has legitimate control over her justly-acquired property, one is free to alter that property in any non-aggressive way she sees fit.  This necessarily also applies to one’s personal flag.  Whether or not this new design becomes associated with the land of a given region will ultimately be determined by how many people in the region are likewise willing to adopt the new design, and either way, everyone will be free to fly whatever flags they wish in the free society.

I’m sure Mike would readily agree with this argument, but unfortunately I am for some reason unable to actually get it out.  I do not know what.

In any event, I am later at my grandparents’.  Some woman at the front door, presumably one of my grandmother’s Senior Center buddies, asks me if someone (either herself or my grandmother) may arrive or leave around 8:30 AM.  The question seems odd, but I go to relay it to my grandmother.

In so doing, I find my grandmother in a location that visually looks like the kitchen area in which I used to work back during my Oak Crest years—yet, this is not Oak Crest, but curiously enough is instead my grandmother’s old business, The Button Jar.  It is the Button Jar despite not looking anything like The Button Jar.

It dawns on me that I should see if I can get a job working for my grandmother.  I entertain this line of thinking until it dawns on me that The Button Jar no longer exists.

My great-grandmother is also there, and she has a horrible scar on her face that looks like Freddy Kruger had attacked her.  She supposedly had caused this herself with some sort of fork.  It looked all the more gruesome as it was beginning to heal and, somehow, peal.  It peals much more quickly than one would expect, and during the course of my discussion with her, I see a flap of skin literally fall off her face, leaving behind of square where new skin appeared to be growing under the old.

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