accordingly, bondage that snaps a turtle and breaks the beak off. that poppet. yo ho, the dead guy wails. it’s all over.
i once saw a waiter sweeping up some broken glass and whose got all the chips now? now? well, that’s all that he’s said about anything at all. where’s the future going anyhow? ‘s got some gangbusters waiting in the wings, ready to tear down the wall between the now and the next-now?
indefinitely sad. or maybe some other thing. i’m all parched and and and… well, enjoy the afternoon you saucy bunkins!
State Park Beach, Aptos at the Cement Boat
This is the beach I always use to go to when I was a kid. Wacky stuff. Imagine if they did this for all of the coastlines of the entire world… Imagine if they did this for the entire world…
where am i now? with the bloodcicle stained withal, eh? no, nothing so gory, or shall we say, un propos. but to be sure, there’s been a real dearth of original thinking around these parts of late. hard to take the last gasp lying down (or maybe that’s the only way to take it…)
enter the fist, or some ninja-flavoured monstrosity like that. whirring stars and pointed clown noses. uncertainty, like a cavalcade of munchkins running down the stairs, is just tumbling every which way. who knows where the corascading novitios are headed? damn, it would be nice to be fucking awesome at something or other: basket-weaving, or bookbinding or beekeeping or just any old thing.