pot-hatted, the green-fringed darlomook danced the cherubim from out the heavenly clavichord. justice, that grey miser, eeps out a strained discounting wonder, eh? there’s a wicked purle on the horizon. it’s called tempestuous odor and there’s not a soul in all the ages who can smell that whiff of… yah, that’s the ticket.
all aboard the halotrain. what the spikes and weavers have to tell us, no one knows. there’s a scattershot of buckles flying through the air–so don’t forget your monkeyhats.
the circles are excalating their vibrating spin and shards of heaven are flying everywhere, to that high-pitched whistle. who’d have thought that sound was pleasant, once upon a time? so the best bet is just ride it out, let the monsoon rage and then when the eye floats over us all: scoop up the flotsam that glisters to our eyes: A keyholed tin clock with a daisy pair of eyes for hands; all the uncles dancing on the head of a pin–all 53 of them; a fifteen by forty-two foot painting of scarpathia’s left ventricle; hoops and heaps of buttons and bonnets and bootcicles and booterys and beavers and blintzes and barbarypirates and beedles and buggers and bitters and blow; a grand experiment down at the Venusian Tunnel of Love.
All these things and many more than could ever be created or imagined or ticked off on a ledger. These are the things worth scooping up when the eye passes over us all and the storm swirls around us–just picture some fingerpainting with one blank spot on the page; all those vibrant colors of the rainbow. No pastels for me, thanks, I’m taken!
Memory: what a fragile thing!
Well, it is only made up of a cloud of electrochemical patterns after all….
I haven’t written much lately; I’ve been quite quite under the weather. Finally, pulling out of it a bit…
Superficially, this article is about “why nerds are unpopular”, but it also deals with the endemic structural problems with educational institutions in general. Which I tend to agree with. I thought junior and high school was a prison then and I think so now. The high school kids that I see on the public transit in the morning don’t seem particularly happy to be going there. They don’t seem like monsters either.
ye olde phlegm factory, been rarin’ all these past corple days. makes the head to sneezin.
I don’t know who this person is, or even if they’re correct about the strengthening Euro versus the weakening dollar being a primary cause for war.
Sadly, I tend to believe that most geopolitical craziness in the world boils down to a simple: where is the money going? It seems like a good beginning place, anyway.
To sum up: people don’t like it when they’re treated like projects; when they feel like every interaction is a calculated maneuver.
I’ve been inside the house, so to speak. I’ve seen it first hand (as in the first person) and been witness to the social awkwardness caused. Did I learn this the hard way? Perhaps, so. But only partially. Like me mom said from time to time: “You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar.”
Try to imagine the kind of person who would use vinegar to catch flies… And why would you even want to? With honey, the catching isn’t the thing. You can’t KEEP THEM AWAY. I don’t know what I’m trying to say here, though. So I’ll just stop.
They both outline significant problems (read flaws in reason) for the anti-war faction. Important reading for anyone trying to formulate a rational anti-war stance.