all the sauce in heaven

just watch that nectarine juice dribble off god’s chin, or so sayeth the beetleman

contrariwise, there’s a cold heap of stew just waiting to be cooked up in a stewpot; all those delicious potaters; crammed heap of dandelion wines; heaps and crocks of cheesemongers; and plenty of stones to go around; yellowing umbrellas that spray water everwhere; uncle’s hats and trawsers; steamboats and curlicues and madcap reindeer horns; jelly ticklers; puncher cards and heaps and heaps of turkish delight in turkish baths; fluttering incunabulae; just-in-time-for-its getting there just in time; bouncing, burbling mountaintops jiggling with their oncelerosity; just watch that breaded sky break out; dallying gentlemen, waiting for that coy milkmaid to saunter by….

oh, maybe not so contrariwise after all.
just eat that scrumptious stew. full to bursting.

crunching the bits to bits and pieces

oh my, well that was an expensive conversation or five.

at least it was a good one, anyway.

the sun’s been beaming, and otherwise the grey old nackers have been keeping hooded and away. that’s grand, i suppose, and here’s hoping they have a grand old time hydeing out there. better than them hydeing in here. and that’s mr. hydeing to you.

i loike me the paragraph tags. that’s for sure.

that’s the ticket.

and all the words in me mouther have dried up.

and all the words in me brickabrack brain.

Sinking in, twiddling toes in the water

There’s nothing like moving to a new city to throw of one’s sense of rhythm, and like a bobbing doughnut, I’m dancing along just a half-beat along from the great throb of life. I can even feel my heart skipping a beat or two, these days, wanting to tap into that new tap-tappity-tap, but just not quite getting there.

Which is just fine. Really. I mean, it takes a little while to find the grocery store and discover which streets dead-end and which go through to the bottom of the hill and which streets its really best not to have to walk upwards. (The first time I came to Seattle, about 4 years ago, I stalled out 5 or 6 times trying to clutch into first gear from a stop. There’s nothing worse than that acrid burning smell from stalling out one too many times…)

[WHICH, completely unrelated, but it’s too cool for words: the old Hitchhiker’s Guide text adventure game has been graphicalized and put online, thanks to those kindly folks at the BBC.]

Now that I’m solidifying in this new place, having felt a bit wraith-like of late, ghosting about town, lurking on the backs of buses and things, I mean to post to this thing a bit more and perhaps add a bit of changes to the premises. Nothing drastic, mind, but maybe it could use a bit of sprucing.