really the strain just tears a socket right from my port, reeling dizzy-lee la la, dancing. squaring in front of the mirror, dressingdown in dressinggowns, wondering: "but who will see or who will say, or who will know and either way what loss is there in doing this what harm to come when slips the gist?"

But is it still a slip? Yeah one wonders at one's one, lone flapping palmishly commiserated in the lefts and centers, and far right is here, twitching, here, hoping what's obvious is obvious only when it needs to be.

http://www.halaka.org/ (don't stare too long into that sun, you'll be seeing it forever and that's not fun.)