Season two is good, lemmings.
We're trudging, scuffling deep in the valley twixt twin peaks of heat. Fire walk with yourself, bub, I'm sweaty [ed. note: figuratively as the Slab's air's conditioned in addition to asbestosed] enough as is, thus, this, meandering rivulets of passivity, all reading + listening, all the time, but the pen remains dry as Charlemagne's bones, assuming of course there's no bathtub mildew wherever his pieces-parts lie; Aachen, the McDonald's in Aachen, Otto's Irresistible Dance Emporium.
[read read read ---> half-ass'd ponder]
This place is vinyl with the needle stuck, isn't it.
Tweaking the tweaks of last month's piece, la belle vie.
Place is more than this place.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Just keep telling me this is life and we didn't miss it
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7 comments:
Wrong Way, R.G.
~
Apparently so. And the cherry pie here sucks.
Input, input, input. Rinse, rest, refresh, and write.
Take two and call me in the a.m.
After, of course, that darn good cup of coffee.
Ain't just writing, though egads on that front; as the gentleman from DC would state, find metaphors abound.
as Charlemagne's bones, assuming of course there's no bathtub mildew wherever his pieces-parts lie
I understand the problem with bathtub mildew but I still haven't figure out the difference between it and soap scum.
You've gone a long way to realizing the official hip phrase in Portland: Keep Cleveland Weird.
BB, I believe the former, or the latter, one of the two, is a bioweapon of the mole people.
susan, I'm not sporting giant sunglasses or hats in the middle of August.
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