Entry #87

The last information translated for this cycle, man down, orifill, at long last our nation, awkward circles lazy drawn and heart still beating, aftermath of crash test economics and the leavening of the field so that all can suffice. Trodden down and ground bound lies strength to rise like bread and skyward dream anew and capture hearts of reason and marinate. Yer druthers. Say it now, this warbled waterfall skill set, this damp ode to the wayward manatee, this anklebot delirium treacled out onto colored wax paper and offered up to the royalty for theirWelch on the man and you’ve got subsystem antebellum carpe diem purple vellum and still no call on the gimmick trickery. Big bloated buckets of bailout the bilge of a bogus system that was broken to begin with. Fingertip-feel your way around the craggy business building edge as ledge of the market’s making, with profit taking the image shaking tool of King Woord the Wizzer. And Oliphant sizes up the casa! Burn both ends of your talking stick and bring new light commons to dusky nether region bickering on the streets of every new soul placard and taut minstrel sing-along and whoop-it-up hullabaloo eagle’s nest viewpoint, but what you see, what you see, WHAT YOU SEE MAN is the LAST TRUTH OF A SEVERELY COMPROMISED mindscape holding secret vita-elixir and bearing noiseless lossless quantifiable datastream, once more the given passage of minutes hours and centuries back to the centaurs and not one damn lookyloo or common magpie or lurker whatsoever call or submit and don’t go gentle peacetime mannikin go up beyond your station and cross each path with renewed vim and preternatural whigmaleerie and mock encomium and tepid raves of sanguine nature and woo invective unnreving and enfeebled but BRINGING OUT and VETTING FORTH that last quivering gasp of pock-marked and pebbled verity. Run it to the vestals and limb from limb detach dissect deny and the deep deepity deepest analysis and bold hearty shimmering broth of the sipping sanctuary where BEASTS ARE CAST ASUNDER and FIRST COME FIRST BURNED so light grasshopper rice paper impressions and scramble forth like some mint proof grenade ready for the blowing and scattered shards of wind that come to rest in this and many other dominions. Bastion that cross-rererencing the Perspius Perspective in linear and aereal degrees. That one cure would benefit the mulled massive took flight in tropes and ideas like trees that sprout prosaic branches, filtered sunlight orange and citrus right, given outstance and proper heritage, I saw farther than those who circled camp on pony. We bear this circus gladly, as clenched grin and happy thought parades distill the essence of happy being, having cloud breath, bonding nimbly, cooking with pan-reduced stress, shuffling bum steer through the stables of pungent then-time, folly gauze and lilac spritz, neon clogs and lightning-fast read flexes, and jolly time, drawn coordinates and the lash, after-dinner warmth figs, lollypoppers and camo gear, lift your head and bob once for limbless, horrendous ships that sail on solar wind for years on end, and here comes one, FLOATING DOWN on this wondrous CLOUD OF ANTI-HATE AND WARMNUB illustrious foretaste for the near ahead.

Little Indian Girl, Where is Your Father?

Still later in the game, fifth quarter or sudden death nulltime, and every Central American prophecy grabbing at your gusto and trimming your vitals like the premature pruning of the wisened proto-vine. God, cog, dog, odd, evil, even, heaven, take out the o’s and e’s and the a and I and the constant consonant drone enlightens the truest weighty nature of our neck albatross alphabet. Gutteral clucks and Oswegean popping sounds and the Ket language of Central Siberia and yet not a single scrap of porridge for a dying dog if supper is held in highest regard.

Looming Ripe, in Fructus, in Berris

Rife loam, breathing funny, scratchy head part, having a way with the tom-tom group, snappy little katy-did, home and hone, whither which way and the directions was slim. Do you remember your own cornpone moment, when the jacks landed slant on some counterintuitive board and the ball bounced so high in the sun, warmth and gritty biscuits, for the champ, ma, for the champ.

Retail failed, Mr. Jones. It balled up a hop snappy chipmunk paradigm skip jump dumpy frame codswallow macaroon bigger stand catchable knick-splitter with the hair-do from planet Cod. That’s the guy they should catch, if the clues strewn, and feather-haired beauty forestalling inevitable duty, as you have it, honor-bound and leather-scented, a status once more and about face nibble hook nincy nincy nincy arbitrater and the damned. And I told her she thought Chip was the middle one, given the Prayer of Manasseh.

The Likelihood of Cosmic Reprieve

The question of linear straightforwardness or some kind of curved return has been partly solved in the acknowledged elastic nature of universe/multiverse and return elasticity supporting a closed circular model. The idea that time as created codified and petrified could be adjusted to suit such a model accepts a common idea of time as traveling A to B instead of the more like A to A, making the question one not of reprieval but retrieval.

Rush's Working Man Found Unemployed in Albuequerque

Or turns left at Greenland. Or comes out of the rabbit hole far from Pismo Beach. Kirlean worlds delicate to the touch, frail reality cream pies fly in the face of upturned conduct policy and conventional feardom tactics. Present yourself forehead high, and reap the sowing of the singers this light hum denigrating bad vibe congress gather white porcelain legging man tapenade.

Picture Reggie; he was one now he’s millions, poring on like some false king with a thought kingdom nearly overturned, and then tens millions, oh the humanity, hundreds millions then, just our shore alone, to a big billion, and more billions, and now a misleading figure like 6,872,775,960 when it’s really more like 11,532,455,710, give or take 12 at this moment.

Beholden to the Agrarian Calendar

Time is dim, lad, make forth to a new plateau governed beyond the 2,009 that are counted. Then giving clear credence to the additional 4,706, and more still the 5,769 more, all despite overlap, giving back a sum of 12,484, or known as 19, or 1. Such is life that simp culture disallows the digit processing necessary for numeric comprehension and the filial grasp, which already yields enough intelligence sans the usual ill tidings and that should be enough to last a year if we have it.

Tourmaline Wishes and Caviar Schemes

If you made it this far you know about the roundhouse arrival of Cartesian physics and the innate import of relics from the east and a volume of precise language lost to the stars and the misled gray-matter masses and the begetting of Proud Mary and those visages found on the odd lint screen, tree trunk or cheese sandwich. For to heed the material wishes of every sacred queen is to forget the fairy feller’s master-stroke.

Ambulent dreams of precious metal debuttante and fishing for stale loaves and Madonna of the Sanskrit plava and pushing through the thin wall of mediocre vanity to a return-value of the crosspoints found in the collective ordinate and absissa. Dysfunctional relative values in the null schemata leaves room for clearer assessment among the detritus of those pathetic family lies.

Forsooth to Pick a Plane and Exist with it Running

Now you’re delving into your wiggle-tooth theatrics and bare-knuckle diatribes and cocked-handle platitudes and misshapen speeches and twisty themed how-d’ya-dos and folderolde riddles and titillating tirades and not-so-on-the-level accusations and revolting reproaches and castigating condemnations and dyspeptic disses. Dammit! Hold your brows tight and wade into the draining waters of yeartime, these temporal forces leaking from tomorrow’s ears. Semper fi, sons of playas.

Gone with the Heaving Breath of Mercurial Monads

What’s on tap, shizzlesnit? It rains some more, and the hours drain counterclockwise, and HEY MAN WRAP IT UP they say to fold in walnuts but there’s less time to bake this thing than ever before. As I scribble knowing data that must be prescribed before the last hour this is the heat melt psychodramatic Babylon that 2008 forgot. Yor, timid specie, giggle gaggle gobble this turkey down and wash it with Shiraz Kool Aid and the cumber. Nibblepick saucy fry olivetail macadamn granted wishstick pixy dander buck. The holy thou trowel search takes place in the dirt, and that’s jus’ the way it iz.

The Festive Prefigurement of Harvey Densemeyer

Run. To. The. Light. We. Must. Comply. With. Our. Own. Wishes. Get out of the way of yourself, Lunadoggie. Ripened know with some underlying, pick up your rake, dig, cohesive being snatch Gabriel essence and willing St. Germain. Valid most to those who need it least, hearten and rally and belly up to the Wordsharden Bar and have a mead with your master. Dole liberally and keep accounts with the building matriarch. Channel through chewing sensitive document shred a la papier-mâché to apple soot. Barbers deluxe cut comes in 12 hours and then fights on to transgress and multimogrify the existing fabric rubric to the cube, blockhead.