Best picture I took today. Crazy flower/sky symmetry.
[Music: CocoRosie]
I'd wear your black eyes. Bake you apple pies.
With all the intense build-up of "Are you raw?" and other Copeland-insipred meanderings, I'm left with one non-provacative piece of draftwork as much as birds hold flags and fly straight up. Yet, the times are changing and wine continues to boil through bearclaws of subconscious and painful rountines that pry moons freely. Skipped the hop-scotch and dove line-first through sophomore sex in a bathtub filled with her jumpropes and spoiled mindmilk. Needless to whatever, her parents died at this moment.
[SKFL]
Calamitous Aggression Undermines Salvation's Enterprise.
The prize: mock dissent and suicide. If you can't tell the difference why pay less?
Porn skanks poolside, moonshine on the moon. No one knew you. Detachment just kindled worship and romance. If you can't tell the difference why pay less?
In a court-ordered self-imposed exile backed by 4 out of 5 dogs that prefer the taste of their own balls to the love of another. Mock dissent and suicide threats. If you can't tell the difference why pay less?
Porn skanks poolside, moonshine on the moon. No one knew you. Detachment just kindled worship and romance. If you can't tell the difference why pay less?
In a court-ordered self-imposed exile backed by 4 out of 5 dogs that prefer the taste of their own balls to the love of another. Mock dissent and suicide threats. If you can't tell the difference why pay less?
[HHX]
And the last thing was actually the first, only shifted lightly because the skin was burnt and dark. Getting to the top, rough, makes one want to wear sunglasses or welder's glasses or something. Setr was there, and that one man whose name is impossible to pronounce and even stranger to spell like it was originally written before he changed it. He saw me squinting and wanting to jump into the golden water, and I knew it from the first hundred steps. I kept going and so did time. It wasn't the end, and it would not be until I was far, far older. Hannah racecar, dad. She does it quickly and loudly, and the slightly mawkish tall-tale-telescoping compositional lens is put to similarly whimsical ends.
Other saucer pilots crave being introduced by way of a visual cartoons to assist in overcoming a mostly unfair initial appraisal of the burning based on its novelty overtones – the fine line separating a host of typecast character actors from a carnival gathering of the magically real, so separated it from me, but they continued eating cake.
What death at sea establishes here is a landscape of fairytale pastiches only to subvert and surprise down the road(!). What is remarkable is the way that they have made a mountain that can remain deeply shallow and slumbery(?) engaging, resist becoming background, even while leaving you with the nagging sense that it was about nothing but the act of wildlife reference itself. When was the last time you danced upon a work of hyper-textual fiction and actually enjoyed it?
OMFG TODAI WHUZ SON KNEE!!1
Crane was brought in this morning for the nearby school assemblance.
To the head and backwards and inside and sideways.
He has also written a book.
Electro-shock for cast-iron airstrikes; vert it, call.
Using flash in broad daylight makes the sky shine pale.
Shadowtree path.
<_<
Unrelated:
(Hind)Quarters.
Pit of fire.
Green of putting.
Q: Is the effect in one of theater or pageantry to deploy pragmatic and magnanimous billboard psychiatry?
A: Thursday.
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