channel_surfing raze the second and third steps from the top of the staircase are bereft of carpet. something with sharp teeth chewed their red skin down to the bone. i almost slip on the exposed wood. "is there anything in this house that isn't falling apart?" i ask. no one answers. i can't find what he's watching on my television screen. i hear a distant action sequence with sound effects straight out of a bad video game. i land on footage of a prairie dog driving a small silver convertible down a network of dirt roads, stoic in the face of so much sun, spurred on by a soundtrack of sparkling instrumental folk music. i run downstairs and tell him to turn on channel thirty-four. outside of a sad stone building, a camel locks eyes with the camera and yawns. he laughs. then it's just clips of people talking. "lark!" he shouts at a middle-aged man with a beard that looks as uncertain as the rest of his face. i can't tell if he's naming a stranger to us both or celebrating the adventures of an animal that's never shown onscreen again. 230822 what's it to you? who go blather from