Now imagine I hadn’t said anything, yet the world is commenting on something another me wrote a week ago. I don’t feel like writing it, and so I’m saying: 'There’s a song out there reminds me of when I always felt like it. And indeed I must feel like it!'
There can be no other way: So, capitalize your sentences. It’d make a great deal of difference if the rest of us weathered ordinary space, recognizing the ends of a family line. Witness, after not having sought, the delineation down the words of a theory!
Hence, no one wants to talk anymore, they did never did. There can be no ‘anymore’ as they’ve always been on the outs. I described to a few in the beginning in a diatribe of focal points how those villains, before the age of discussing freeform topic sentences, must still be named so they won’t reach up and fix us. In essence I told these kids to watch out!
This story you’ve heard from me anyway hundreds of times before. And seriously, are you matriculating yet? Oh, again? That is indeed quite nice actually—go, do that; populate so as to propagate your mind, spin it in and around itself, get all its contents diversified for the raging rapport of consensus. My argument, Dolor, is that we can now because we never did. There’s your announcement of total freedom with how we use our language. Since...because in the critical mode—we care less for the product than the process. Looking for an emphasis, I spot something sensual. I fear I’ve gone too long without it . . . honey?
"Right, you called it the sickly surcease."
No comments:
Post a Comment