Author: shawn

will the caftan be televised?

(or should I say yurt?)
once we (the two(?) parts of me) got together, hatched a plan and sprung forth out of the brain. (adeena at delphia or some apollonistickal… are we thinking of?) fullybrained, like a wonderchicken.
there’s no ulcer like the forebrain, or cancelling all the cannibalistic tendencies and pernastities.

so, ahoy, gulliver! i’m in a world where springs of fulsome tragedians are um hitting their bladders with sticks. or i’m sorry: so to speak, some other striking their bladders for them (inflated bladders don’cha). so if i’m remembering: Laputans. (not lilliputians you saucy clavichords! i actually read the whole d*** book!)

who can speak without a bladderstriker and whatsit to you if they don’t?

Of returning

If any are wondering, I have returned from my frazzling trip. Airports become more and more tiring all the time. I am losing the thread of this thing.

My initial experiment in journalizing likeso:

The right side would be for the jumbled and incomprehensible word/images which foible and hopscotch through my brain all the time. (As my main concern regarding them has always been, how and in what way would be the best way to capture and snapshot those flitting brainpatterns.) I had been writing in that fashion for quite some time (as you can see by the archives), when I realized that a part of me (the rational?)–the part that can(?) write in quasi-legible fashion–was being neglected.

Hence, this Left side of things. It occurred to me that it would be nice to have an outlet where I might be able to construct word-fragments which would be immediately decipherable to whomever. (Believe me, I’m as certain of the frustrating nature of my writing as the next person.) The trouble is that I find that I have less to say over here. I’m not really interested in tapping away about the day-to-day hummdrummities. Plenty of people do that anyhow.

finally at last and to be sure withal

can’t the bones of daisy may be resting? can’t the hardley-bardleigh rest in shade tonight? it’s all about the bits of words on nothingtoast or qabbalistic mutterincks (yo, cobbleheaded man! read out to us yer words of lore. methinks ye’ve gotta find the loo! ya)

so, there you have it, la. can’t even squak for a dimestore muffin…

maybe my entire yahso is wrongo?