yup. it’s a tuesday

even when the laddios are drowning in cardboard boxes, there’s hope that some kind of preserver will be tossed off the lot and thrown about some place. “Quick! Unpack the box labelled ‘IN CASE OF EMERGENCY!’ who packed that, anyway?”

but all this change has led to a, what’s the word, gradual slowing gown of linguistic verbiage and gnatter flowing from the old cranial goo. hey, i’d like to say that the old brainclock was laser-like zeroing in on the things needing doing… but, alas, not so. instead, there’s a grand mushiness about the place. a feeble onceler that ‘wakes’ each morning with a grueling lack of it. and the dreams just get strange, but in a really uninteresting way. ho hum, what was that dream about the closet door. opening the closet door. which had all the things the closet had, anyway, and nothing even remotely interesting otherwise. yup, the coat’s still there. and the coat from years past. (should that be year’s past? is it possessed by a single year, anyhow?)

even now, witness the slow trainnova of typing this typing represents, watch the same words repeat and then watch some more as this one scrambles for his clock. or something.

can’t even get it together enough to write NONSENSE (admittedly, not always the easiest thing in the world, but O!, remember when those words just slid out of oneself like melted butter roiling down those stairwell handlebars) but hey, maybe all this nonsense is just indicative of me not remembering the right tommyhat (i mean word) at the right time. it’s all about the right word at the wrong time and wrong word at the right time (probably the latter, resulting in, as it were, more amusing crunchyhooligams)

but whoah! and what’s with the nightmarish family news, anyway? that’s a dream from which the waking must occur! but probably not…

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