That serves all better in the end. At least you know where it's coming from. I must follow some shadow. Looks nice from behind.
Purple paint before anyone knew about yellow stripes on the wall we had purple splatters and that's okay, that's a reference too filial to betray at this point; you'll know the room was originally...
A different color. Now it's mostly blue but there is enough of a Message called in by that purple mess--one hesitates, one simply stops. Says, this reminds me--
This simply reminds us all. The power of the painted script (in the abstract)--never you mind the subtleties, we've got them printed off downstairs.
Niceness doesn't often...work inside the (red) house. Room too blue to not say that's actually what it is. Not enough purple to annoy anyone with a complex concerning virility and emotional retardation--the two must collaborate, one hopes. As in, one would like to make that claim; hoping is not limited to actual possibilities--even the argument to establish them thus...
This is bound to change as well. One cannot trust an inclination to an argument; it is not so easy as just making it as it occurs. For it actually happens--it is an event, even when it's only framed. One must acknowledge the action of thought, and realize it's permanent in its way.
That is reassuring; I am glad you have said that. It makes a few differences before I realize how, and that's enough for now. We've come along the way in the effort of creating something to point to--of making that leap somewhere against logic and pulling out some wordy shape that glows under black lights--of all brands. You noticed that pumpkin with white paint speckles didn't glow fully under the Walmart light? And finally under the one you picked up at the Halloween store?
You mean to flatter. But several of us are staring at you not sure. Glowering maybe but we are aware only of looking at a difficult object, an ambiguous thing that once had a name--before it produced this impression, said some recent words with such a look as to imply...a wounded and bitter underbelly of thought--cloying intelligence, wounded vanity et cetera.
You know the type. Walks into a bar, says a few nasty incriminating...things,
You try confusing us as well; that's not fair, using all emptinesses ecclesiastically enshrined.
You know. All the E's point a very specific author, not even the one you'll think of first. Instead consider the E in a summer meadow, very thoroughly considering its tripartite introduction to your webbed-up mind; a conduit, channel? Or are you that channel, etc., etc.? Indeed, not a nice thing to be called upon to answer.
Now look, it's a cloud of ambiguity you've gathered up above you--when will it rain? Because a very locally overrated grunge emo metal band did say--that after the rainbow, it still Fucking rains.
Imagine the pathos turned dower with death drive and sappy cynicism. A really nasty bother to get into thinking on too much.
Don't please. Avuncular recriminations--why they await you! We're ambiguating all the time!
You must be dancing like a wilting flower already! We just left you and down the road we heard the scream, actually it was about a smell. It wasn't a call of terror or even agony: impending unpleasantness was yet the force behind that shrill....sort of condemning cackle.
No one should deny such things.
If they did--if I did-- You wouldn't have gotten the answer you did, when you did. That is, after my first day here, as you adjusted to me being near--it was all such a shift! Tomorrow, it had seemed: the next day, as it appeared, was the reverse of what was then Now. Nothing pointed us to that but catching errors in the sea of pretty words...
Nothing worse than that, certainly; and you bid me...
I think I complement myself rahther well, then! And you--how'd you prefer to spill wrong? Basta!
As the movie implies...
ReplyDeleteOne has not felt a thing since old times. And God knows when those ended.
We're looking at them now so--
Anyway I hope you enjoy your weekend.
This (is) -- something else.
No, and anyway, I think you know what to do.
This is word(s)
How'd you guess?
That serves all better in the end. At least you know where it's coming from. I must follow some shadow. Looks nice from behind.
ReplyDeletePurple paint before anyone knew about yellow stripes on the wall we had purple splatters and that's okay, that's a reference too filial to betray at this point; you'll know the room was originally...
A different color. Now it's mostly blue but there is enough of a Message called in by that purple mess--one hesitates, one simply stops. Says, this reminds me--
This simply reminds us all. The power of the painted script (in the abstract)--never you mind the subtleties, we've got them printed off downstairs.
Niceness doesn't often...work inside the (red) house. Room too blue to not say that's actually what it is. Not enough purple to annoy anyone with a complex concerning virility and emotional retardation--the two must collaborate, one hopes. As in, one would like to make that claim; hoping is not limited to actual possibilities--even the argument to establish them thus...
This is bound to change as well. One cannot trust an inclination to an argument; it is not so easy as just making it as it occurs. For it actually happens--it is an event, even when it's only framed. One must acknowledge the action of thought, and realize it's permanent in its way.
That is reassuring; I am glad you have said that. It makes a few differences before I realize how, and that's enough for now. We've come along the way in the effort of creating something to point to--of making that leap somewhere against logic and pulling out some wordy shape that glows under black lights--of all brands. You noticed that pumpkin with white paint speckles didn't glow fully under the Walmart light? And finally under the one you picked up at the Halloween store?
ReplyDeleteClassic.
You mean to flatter. But several of us are staring at you not sure. Glowering maybe but we are aware only of looking at a difficult object, an ambiguous thing that once had a name--before it produced this impression, said some recent words with such a look as to imply...a wounded and bitter underbelly of thought--cloying intelligence, wounded vanity et cetera.
ReplyDeleteYou know the type. Walks into a bar, says a few nasty incriminating...things,
And poof. Powder contact snapped shut.
You try confusing us as well; that's not fair, using all emptinesses ecclesiastically enshrined.
ReplyDeleteYou know. All the E's point a very specific author, not even the one you'll think of first. Instead consider the E in a summer meadow, very thoroughly considering its tripartite introduction to your webbed-up mind; a conduit, channel? Or are you that channel, etc., etc.? Indeed, not a nice thing to be called upon to answer.
Now look, it's a cloud of ambiguity you've gathered up above you--when will it rain? Because a very locally overrated grunge emo metal band did say--that after the rainbow, it still Fucking rains.
ReplyDeleteImagine the pathos turned dower with death drive and sappy cynicism. A really nasty bother to get into thinking on too much.
Don't please. Avuncular recriminations--why they await you! We're ambiguating all the time!
You must be dancing like a wilting flower already! We just left you and down the road we heard the scream, actually it was about a smell. It wasn't a call of terror or even agony: impending unpleasantness was yet the force behind that shrill....sort of condemning cackle.
ReplyDeleteNo one should deny such things.
If they did--if I did--
You wouldn't have gotten the answer you did, when you did. That is, after my first day here, as you adjusted to me being near--it was all such a shift! Tomorrow, it had seemed: the next day, as it appeared, was the reverse of what was then Now. Nothing pointed us to that but catching errors in the sea of pretty words...
Nothing worse than that, certainly; and you bid me...
I think I complement myself rahther well, then! And you--how'd you prefer to spill wrong? Basta!
Shit then, damn.
ReplyDeleteChange the sheets.
How indeed.
ReplyDelete