"Not with this piece of shit."
"Not in a million Mongo years."
I know some of you are probably sick of the Flash Gordon shtick, but I don't care because relax, I'm running out of lyrics I'll know you'll read the next installment because you've got nothing else to do, you lazy bums.
Hanging on with one hand, he considered his alternatives. Various and fluctuating states of differentiated contemplation being ever so taxing to an already exhausted cerebral cortex, and with his hypothalamus lording over a hypersonic thirst with puissant, nay, divine, kingship, this base, wretched soul was left devoid of further opportunities for rumination and was thus painstakingly forced into a dry, silent seance with none but choice upon choice seated around him, motionless, their cold, glaring eyes full of derision before defiantly standing to echo in unison a wordless, deafening regret whose undulating, toxic wave reverberated through flesh and bone that, at last, under the weight of the greatest despair and a lone tear, let go. Dangling from the gutter wasn't as exhilarating as Leon had imagined.
Sunday, October 4, 2009
Flash! Aa-ah! He'll save ev'ry one of us!
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27 comments:
Just two things. Is this really going anywhere or is it just some part of a random half awake dream you've been having? Second, everytime I see that photo I keep thinking of that half porno flick Flesh Gordon and expect some tawdry titilating entry. Did I say titilate? snicker snicker ;)
"puissant" ??
That sounds dirty... tee hee!
((Hugs))
Laura
I think you might have just won the contest for longest single sentence that says basically nothing much. Is this what you're going for? I'm right, aren't I?
I fully expected to come here and face a sports post. Has someone else taken over your blog and now is masquerading as the NotRandal?
There is an award for you on my blog if you're interested. :)
Hanging on with one hand he considered his alternatives. He thought of a brilliant idea, feeling smug, he gave himself a round of applause.
"puissant"
French for poontang?
No Freedom Fries for you, you un-American liberal commie!
We're all in the gutter but some of us are looking at it through the bottom of about ten pints of Tyskie.
But was he looking at the stars while he dangling?
BTW, you can counter overuse of Flash, by putting up jpegs of Ornella Mutti.
Hanging on to anything long enough for the thrill to wear thin is a hard lesson to live through. Exhileration is at best a lie, at worst, a prediction that this might just be the last one. Suddenly disappointment enters the picture and brings us down. Letting go a sign of resignation.
Various and fluctuating states of differentiated contemplation...
A good bag of reefer will do that to you as well.
Graves, you swine!
Where are your manners? Don't you ever offer your guests whatever-the-hell-it-is that you are smoking?
How do you expect us to make sense of it, if we're on different, um, ingredients.
Regards,
Tengrain
So dangling from the gutter isn't exhilarating? OK, I'll scratch that off my bucket list.
I just love writers who can pull off paragraph long run-on sentences and maybe, just maybe, if I keep reading yours, I'll learn how to do it myself oh master of Joycean phraseology.
Just a minor correction, for all you science fans. In fact, wordless, deafening regrets that lead to undulating, toxic waves are not — I repeat not — related in any way to an "exhausted cerebral cortex."
However, this condition has been associated with an overstretched cerebral Playtex.
HTH. :)
This would make a good action flick.
Or Leaf Guard commercial.
ill the next caped crusader be Randalman?
Dangling from the gutter...
Neither is being drawn and quartered, yes?
:)
Did you get out of breath writing that sentence? I guess you have puissant lungs.
Up to your usual standards Russell. On a serious note, I have a book publisher that said they would send a book they sent me to anyone I wished. It's a short story collection by Chris Adrian called "A Better Angel." I need your snail mail address. troyspeyton@att.nat
Is Randal's real name Russell? Intriguing.
Guys should never lord their hypothalamus over anything, it's just rude.
Best run-on sentence EVER! :-)
demeur, I cannot condone porno. Wait, yes I can!
sunshine, I'm a dirty guy. Then I take a shower.
utah, this entire blog is about nothing. Tomorrow, sports!
sunshine, is there cash?
holte, ouch!
christopher, vive le beret!
paul, since this is Murka, substitute Busch Light.
cormac, stars? It's always cloudy here. I will take your advice, go to hell, Flash!
mrmacrum, now that's some misery I can support whole-heartedly.
BB, ha!
tengrain, I am clean and sober!
tom, only from the garage, though. The house is higher up. Could be thrilling.
susan, imagine if I had anything important to say!
SWA, was that a subtle salute to women's unmentionables?
übermilf, Leaf Guard? I didn't know leaves had b.o.
tomcat, being a supervillain would be more fun.
hill, should I have more blood next time?
LBR, many have said I am full of hot air.
sherry, Russell? I'm no crowe.
übermilf, my real name is Leon, read the blog. Duh.
nunly, is that a hypothalamus or are you just happy to see me?
Leon needs a hobby. I've dangled from the gutter myself and at times, even thrown myself in, but it was never as much fun as this!
"their cold, glaring eyes full of derision," priceless!
Doc
I echo Mr Brazill's comments but substitute Tyskie with London Pride.
Ah. You had me at "cerebral cortex".
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