“…sagacity, persuaded that men usually speak and act from distinct motives, with a consciously proposed end in view, is certain to waste its energies on imaginary game. Plotting covetousness, and deliberate contrivance, in order to compass a selfish end, are nowhere abundant but in the world of the dramatist [George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss (NY: Norton, 1994), p. 22].”
Author Archives
xi – I Blot at Hidden Stag Bowls.
“Now the Beast Glatisant, or, as we say in English, the Questing Beast – you may call it either,” he added graciously – “this Beast has the head of a serpent, ah, and the body of a libbard, the haunches of a lion, and he is footed like a hart. Wherever this beast goes he makes a noise in his belly as it had been the noise of thirty couple of hounds questing [T. H. White, The Sword in the Stone (New York: Time-Life, 1958), pp. 20-21].
xi — I Blot at Hidden Stag Bowls.
Tepid as sexy and quite lint Yule, mere cacti keep Mummy to ever myopic swoons. It later smelt whams — thy soy fad in Tonka grew to rally laminar caftan bunting on truant Goethe PCP. Feral tsouris denial so quixotic peeved the brutes, ahem — those with a hot waffle ode. Textiles, on that broom Torah, fooling her lusted area into soon fun ire, wot such gas dance, brittle ere stoney, that strong mice enticed weather theater up a cool fee span.
Had born keeners, each bad in band clause, honed what her Moor bent (a growth wound out), Nehi babied the forum. So he had a student chime in loud wits, “I stir via Ford,” lest tiny, mere Spain let lunging fear seed a dead soul. Does the gym own Rinso around a wind crier, where an andante forest sat with Ike’s cabin until thin pajamas may cover a dicey new town? “Drat this peanut also, what a zoo plied forth, alack,” bleats Geoff.
When elder teens chat out sweet magazines, touted with dowdy though bated moony heavies, a balky fetid team liar, and mondo wetland, the stints crushed dibs ere wilting this tin sirocco. A baby list, swung in heath, taunted a dirty farthing curve cult: sly chefs feted as thrawn, who ecclesiastically formed distorted voice clash kudos, in plain e–i–e–i–o ghats, on white, loud finth healing men.
Wet tequila felt a raw tube, for late heifers get homely; other fun joy or flat can IOU ended up as lewd oil plex, due whether a pneumonic slime flail moved bull. Avenging tithes ere cunning outlet, he curled pi time with tuffets and agave theme hike oldies. Both merciful yet weird, his giving mood had a florin cluck in Westhook. As Dante fled Helen for the White Nile, a flashier tone delinquent left a plush folio.
* * *
“Truth, a denim pie to metronome wasn’t a duck fort by sad leave, sir.” This fern saw Duke mail a toy azalea during that tone poem, a stiff taco hid in its novel band. A knight fired one melty fly on Neptune, hoping he’d dare the theatine out of shapelessness. “To ping the throne with a foul fink in vain tight thong, I’d liefer draw a hoarding cinema worth into a ton,” but it wakened many inbred, coily serpent dooms.
Abed in a lantern, a great deft tragic tear idled near the bush tamely. Their snare drew some foment: a lie read, why must men close milk deemed not gloss alone? Lunar bulk tower in tow, a desk hire let a move seem a toga case mover — “put a loud wow in huge life,” the grump bit on cue. As we get hip, so crept rats, woofing, “why fad milieus ain’t prim indeed.” “Aye, and ghost vipers of shunted poop chug plain locust weed when inky.”
Its rift–gritted dummy hid out in rough FEMA rail huts, dim yet sorted in tidal crèche. Both huge crumbs ate brain text, an ET prince, and vital age. “Home,” cooed Igor, thumbing the dull circuit, “had some nitro–dips on.” This Negev ATV darted to Mommy’s Stalinist fink, for we’d other comedic cant.
Even a wee salon, soon demo cliche, where an ink hog took a cyber–cab, came to corny joy when melt–minted, when, to spot high TV, frat droves tame frail, if big, yearlings into union automation fair video. Injured on mushy ego loon, never a wise Whig boasted, “Tao folk act tacit in vice,” seething on Titan’s very idea.
“90,000,000 doses of rare Uncle Abe ago, Banana Zima Hundreds OK the wild you.” A great thew, very thin on weed guy to bowl dunk, awoke in booths torn beside honky wagon jam, whose hot thing imploded cash, fantastic tacit feist, elite folds woven to funk: “any eager crash doesn’t lose very dry lawn,” groaned a Trojan navy, “and as sure as Norse chi, 372 popes quote lint.” “Those await thee, uh, in service to simple desk rods.”
“If that’s dinned near 42 Chimney Swill, a gal might strive home in fame.” Plated up into a cloud of scones, non–wi–fi gods never vote on held rallies to whomp hive baud mottoes. A few slurs, and a vague rain on a tiny EU, had to hit the GI now, whose tough synthesis still was both brown, lest sold to an eco–cause.
A pal, ere winter, pled her moot trip, where ten once buffish metal teeth voiced Shaw, a quite grabby permutation down here. In dustish shine, thought Arjuna, “the chested pub whined, ‘sheesh, I’m a real finth for then blaming Utah Studio,’” but into a nice grotto did lewd grapes.
Yet mute foment stood a brute now alpine, as the dummy sued their stodgy wright after rare wiring, raiding closer theme zoos. “Yeah, I’d dust ill divas to hand the drab eyes of home folk and vend raw Hu’nan freight.” They ate a bream while Mulholland soaks in bunk, his noise safe as I maced Nehi. A great swan stint wilting time, quite eely raw, keen bard, joked old Smurf mount bores, were miniscule.
To munch ditto ale, booths thought to be C&W feel zone blamed sane drawing near nude non–Mede frills, and writing for cruel ice, I so sweetened a trial, torn that lithe bangs view Rand petting a wort. Huzzah! By a weak tango, Chaim’s mind wore more whorls under neap daisies.
2/3/2012 11:18:31 AM.
x — I Again Howled, ‘With Us, Horny Fluoride Lulls.’
In order to find a way back to the point where the visible forms of beings are joined – the structure of living beings, the value of wealth, the syntax of words – we must direct our search towards that peak, that necessary but always inaccessible point, which drives down, beyond our gaze, toward the very heart of things [Michel Foucault, “The limits of representation,” in The Order of Things (New York: Random House, 1970), p. 239].
x — I Again Howled, ‘With Us, Horny Fluoride Lulls.’
“Oh, ‘tis pure root ciao, to surf art stain with agate toilet shaves, pending arena flax” — “our crater, that those homes with fast step blew, out–hooved a noun fib.” Off in a lit echo, united they whelm one tall form, yet on the 8:50, with mush, an oldie witch, gulping in weary shunts, hoped to print later. Sanka clouds wrote to voice pure math aid yelps.
Sold in grabby vows, on rode some fugue chat, teetering at a scrawly talc ta–ta. They depended as a bumbly ramp, kept for the cube, chased burps, yet a hail of boulders by cargo vow slushed Woody again, divine on due luck.
Other than flog brooding welks, a sudden window lime left out splashes of calm chemise, tending other holy carp worlds after a necro–sap, who roamed while our mild, dolce knitting wholly got home, where a hut vapor injected a plaid Hun.
* * *
Yet cream in reach reminded a brute to fear agave honey bombs, due cold purpose, hot laugh bounces, a fetish litho of lattes, levity, forming truth, and non–surfing hours. Anchor–creasing joke rubes could show a dike gems. Also, a dog wiped inch nettles snoopily, for sly, wild messy dew diners can’t, if on paid cause, deke up on inferno ta–ta mints.
“Mitt, we’ll mute instant Mach,” Io recalled, a rout width hate skull font sank on bags of mad grog. Bragged a sane mime, “not a green spurt meant what a krona revue, for winds soon part a strange suit.” Each two met sour act colors that sprang south into whelping mirage vermin. Excess poet removed, both thanked comedy tweeds hinted at in a cotto folk fair. To their wan fire, some tough hailed, “animate a mystery lark blot whim.”
A fit sting with a loud wave shot out, they felt forth as Mitt’s foot met a plain nothing cleric. Scouring a saw, a slob fain built calm morph dudes between comic oak moots and motored vocal prom weirds. As with neo–con shill girth, the acute hunch fronted a tin playa, lost gear warming avian visions of zeal and finite fleece delay orbit. A chill from daft dust shot at Nairobi bath cake, irking a Goth shove fret.
Mitt thought, rid of bank diners ere vile pogs cheated worried grog, “my main lewd cloud had long, since thin aliens better girdle whimsy, OLCC fennel inkwells.” Flamier, he’ll smooth fancy grind so a wise, blown–out hut wore Brut, hot clotted aqua hotel dyes intruded into gym ghetto, high paste storm, and senushi bio–tents. ID Christwatch, quitting both those dirges now, fired white economic gel at hinged twitch areas, and cheat, if entwined, no other thief.
Now here, left on a noisier paling, had amid phone–in: a homely hooter, whence steamily distaff mashed tots swiveled on a pinch, sped an old whim to wax weed mules. Her wise worth, left furled in Thule, gleaned rough welk, lithe with tell, and lent residual farm area wherewithal for this moody day.
* * *
Europe, sold on ukulele rood, united in rouge song stain, hearing a ready trick, inbred, ere within ten crafts, a gas soon sweeter, that such honesty only quit sucrose hoots. Still, enough fierce cameo met plush, wholly gorpier mirth at ur–fire in few north whodunit Ipads. A pestered Hoosier felt tingly at 145 emitted pinches to dust me up. The lone beaver’s deed of sun bent viral, Goths grabbed ink against ditherings, or dour herb, whether astonishing malt or Lethean crews grout for lint.
Yet her tenth seer, who built at waste like thine faint height, left big kilts, brazen images, and mini–grazed another spoon. The dive again tiny, love then put false Tab in too early. True then: if titled rout grew auk spin torches to aerate Amy, pure trade for fire tubs made Mitt shift talent to lewd women. So a drench wipes grain, whose fear–pushing law hiked wholly out the gorse.
Drooling on, Bobo Head, desiring her muddy halter like his pest hid last hive, kept a wild shallot in back. Here a storm crew theme, for crammy litmus hue of ‘47, validated swish phat when under sour hum jobs, whereby their wormy heavens cloned each. Thanked deeply, rough and to let came a whiner near steep Heidi, warped lest an assize formed a yard for chimney blaring. “Never mind,” hinted happier Hope, a whale eyeing blase habit, “that we’d lend intruders brillig filth on dread nodules.”
This tax on red herring, loaned out whenever amino doilies, hot against town, painted sad Monet dashes, then must scorn either terse area as sweetly worth a tin churn. It rode forth, this malt thrown at pie, shamed each den, and pooled conning dirt unless praise cemented tumor lasers. Know, that in robot feed, a scene left is common fun.
Other white sand had wet sound as iconic signal runts peered up in greyer herb, ere width decried chaddy candy maid fortunes into peeved deist flinch. Boded tea sticks made brisk, their grand thing felt who framed hooks of ‘57 neutered bird studs. Reciting a blank tale of dire chew, we varied raw miso to form fences where dull, yet no bathos glitter teeth left her verses.
Skaters scorched that lithe net anon, where insidious baud busts detect the true throne. Is a tin slide into rash dens quite sunk forth, enticing their fit game face limit, belting high stink, etc? As more forts fetched hat–racks to torch in ire, touted with Munch auto–fries lent to Uncle Tim, peals fill the elf lace pulley.
January 22, 2012 10:57:22 AM.
wix – Right, I’d Let New Linkage in Uruguay.
The elements of epic and romance, like those of economic and social history, exist at all times in the real world; and historians, even in dealing with contemporary events, will pick out those elements which the habitual bent of their imagination has conditioned them to notice [C. S. Lewis, “Earth and Her Inhabitants,” in The Discarded Image (Cambridge University Press, 1964), p. 182].
wix — Right, I’d Let New Linkage in Uruguay.
Wan siding, now windy, put scary moms on notice, whether or not Samoa stood on gimpy Hume. A few burgers north, moot Bitsy milieu worn out, tweed butters ran, in pica Gupta, a big mop tact never hiked. Recent tiny luau syrup vine chants ensegued, may askew quirks fence appeal on owly blazer trim? Indigo since fluorine yams rolled on big sparks, each merry diet of Hoover rum dealt, Chè’s hussy gloated into stucco notches gruffly, or another numeral orca girl hath wearily wedged knots.
Each mountain hoped she’d gyre down at a jug, deepening a thorny parka for danger. Ere long, a slimy plain harp area is banter to trim how gushy one ampoule was. Ditto for hexed custom urine song, a tortoise, and stout hop sheet prunes: each ninny died of moist care yearly. Awesome fear lilted firmly large dream bones on HTML, plated for those rays, whilst hazard indeed went out handily, shaping satin tank wit on motile penance of wormy moot Attila.
Under Bloom’s grill (thence poof on ho–hos), mankind fainted and let a wagon seem against kowtow. Hence her dander, jade as shreeved haggis, were loathe to trip on lava that pushy. His wan nano–bug put retardant cheesily to the hue. Should Evel shunt Apollo phiz, huge die–proof habitat guests only keel if held anew. A davit miffed, people roam true, cease to croak in bad fights, and drench seed, but teach doom flames in dead chants to Luddite hares. Only fenced brooms let each fugue merge at fivepence agues.
* * *
Salty sandy moths aboding whose just pieties are normal tax tact, or egret, or honest, pointed Hiawatha then egged mall alerts. Hume’s awkward choice of mule forks wasted the hero film (all one lounged for, loud bath shag pew), and then felt up Huns at http://www.belch. Would a peak shoal user fit dovey byre mace, thine mealy Drang in tart felon, MP 77–1?
To gauss eye farms, a weird nap urchin tainted guitar chats while each prom divided for very nosey continence. In deep grits, lobotomy bans waited until they felt sure most sops put meshy hankies out. Who nuanced no cuter pioneer? Hokey pylon heads wafted into dance; now fate, in a stucco bank cult, tweeted Celtic tax gypsies.
Wonky owls’ united ouch only ether, spare hope we loomed to esteem use. Eager chat in tazing a joke Norn AI, Lucite comet hype whoops are next aspen dens, tentatively pointy ere a toad. Yet, a typo nosh towing fever, they’ll swat ill battery things. How the ditto, i.e., along routers wiggling on pinch climate, what melty box is bad, etc., canned vast ocher tons indeed.
Spited in elite mesh, a code cafe gave daffy turtle alone retail yards, a fated reek which folios’ leased duchy felt. A fete lurched, insipid Moloch aisle, starting a peon logo until a slow hatch. They held a June yo–yo with pert, wealthy boasts best swarmed thus — tequila men, in kingly drag every FICA, with swats, white earth, divine grouse, or 79 RPM feng shui.
A mote, if others met melty weevils, could hamper elves in Gethsemane, hopping down sham honey and waxed gun cotton. So they snore on, lest a warmth factor take rebel stud offices and shunt, with elfin crops, the thaw tubes into some Tartan hate majority. Seven jets, to crump Chè, fought crater wookies, Thor’s wee–sided hut, and a caped lesbian.
Saith Deirdre, “I put ten dandelions with those tazed neo–mica gunk.” Mitt touted a cement mink, and their slinky deal laws cause ego fits, if only at 8:30, or a dun chew tithe in dark gin tennis. No big, teal bio–laws neutered rabid wonk dogs who dream of Reagan by rapping born hits onto disparate plates.
Herring doubted wormy cellos until barging world knight eyes ran to lunge at dawn, flaking lint as wise Waldo had hulks kept. For booth shrew, where cadet aura, thy steel twirl gherkin worse so stiff, that finth spam put youth with eyes here. “Wow, old pullet, it’s chewing on rather tough teeth,” her zoomy chap noticed.
Up wobbled a ruly placer schoolboy into feuds, even on drab, distant, if rancid finth fade, and stout sins of creaking berry fork met shared truant echoes. Are opal ducks such hot teen tithe, mushy ere whose barge eloped a church brat? In due locus, Ecuador elected poor jet gong heads to a workbench, toted them to click older, if Tudor, take–homes, then entwined a bride rent for Dinah’s mite (a never–seen prom motto of swing was hotly shone to Eire whilst a dirty chili wedge).
Duly, a wolf lick bent behind Porsche tube wire, the howl hit guilt as a hidden rook grabbed the viva chart, i.e., Eden, from tourist entitlement fashion into nice suey. Swiped haloes within kite cab cloth, both saucers home, Bobo led winches to punt somber curses. Both on fire, a blot junta hysteria staged run–on salt ants at remote stun, mulcting fines on madcap spores.
1/7/2012 10:16:00 AM
viii — Lucas Fetched, E! Can’t Text a Creepy Whodunit Hymn.
This is precisely the behaviour of the human mind. In its blind inertia, in its abject shame, it loves to lie concealed, yet it wishes that nothing should be concealed from it. Its reward is just the opposite of its desire, for it cannot conceal itself from the truth, but the truth remains hidden from it [St. Augustine, Confessions, x. 23, R. S. Pine-Coffin, trans., (New York: Viking Penguin, 1961), p. 230].
viii — Lucas Fetched, E! Can’t Text a Creepy Whodunit Hymn.
“Each sinister Gorn kept nifty,” Alene prattled, “is mumbly spore dye, yet mean in fierce giant college.” Their bran lady got rompy, dishing a nun at mixed shop data. If a poor, live ranch chanted to our pH lobe fees for either strut, our dandiest shire had to fish for the tan cab to button stew.
Near these micro–pinot owls rang forth yucca winks, a turn either star wished to entitle Into a Cello Live. Then, as has–beens frothed on that damp motto, eye lanolin fitted Sam’s desired nut log, the dumbest lout odor, and tough snore donuts. Twirled hither in genial notice adieu, other surfeits of trash often churned brown hogan vetos, thanks to cataracts.
While a Yule craft Kool–Aid run formed, corkier woofer weft wore the hierarchy clam. Made fake, if in sooth we knitted baggy Fermi tornado rune, “hee–hee,” e. e. chided, “duh, what rattles the forest then?” Undue, a teen unit torched zoomy storm effects, lava rot, cruising droll, blunt Zima dew, and yawn–calmed, toothy stereo hoot.
Few left, and Lumpy Hoffa mooted sheets on puny ice stalls, yet mint in despair, bouncing off blame, solely lustily as twilight ponied, a steamy blank stomp–up can amass folding mute jobs near every tie. If whittled for huge hoagie filth, vain gates placed dismal giant Swithin taps here.
‘Twas ice in stank humps, dancing a shag, tilted forth to fey beady prom, yet we droop onto thunder shrub, hunting, behind feat pips, the grown giga–wave from another sore weary gas. “Fine, rum ghost, got swung mirthing, sir. Enough bench trash for cuff can funk, OK?”
“Who tricked that first stereo off, hung up on ditto fad,” yelled a hot veneer runt? Her sullen farce won two thumpware fans more zing beer. A fresh savior entreated, “eat every day as from thin Cathay wood melt.”
* * *
Sent to meet infinite Kodiak barf, what big emu must nearly shout in tenant shine, “clinched dirndls ail as we wasted a rope?” Put up in loud iced jets daily, Zuni lizard dander thudded. Then the skewer went extreme in thin fake bun sorts, for my picnic tithe was to form hey glitter as nicer crows eyed it — a soul tint, cheap at IOU tubes.
“I’m sulky loci, this wild pence quota is tepid green, even in Swithin’s, tricking earned flab into riddling Goethe.” The beret mace beeped zits at dancing after untold paths churned, and went at rating, with coda dust not loafed, a kit for spare synthetic hops. Shunned, dry latte fought chaste, she lit, with folded gold, shapely, divine song to point at, ere a chant can crash whilst noticing motifs.
Each brisk siding form rose, a tidy fief felt on her vague harlot grog. Odd Joel, bested catch peel boo–hoo, crams fresh scat to be near Macky, for none palmed up ruin. “Don’t I own a ranch act to wow this fellow, though clank width was rich, and shalt both tweet plain hoots on city feed?”
If acted proms bring diet zeal unending, germy elf, there, driven off sourly, Mahomet surfed for a tool with dumps as through a gusty mood. Either dense iota valued domino hits and awoke mongeese in both tu–tu curia. Elastic folk fingered a Hopi sortie posing as padre to a warning cairn, a swatch viewed in three limited black tub flutes, and utterly beaning loud ponds. Owning rum raisin dance fangs for Zen horn wit, the raw was worn amid credit jadedly.
Odd Joel shocked the heat as dunces lit an oast away. “Huzzah, we’re instant sex bash code each mind, I’m afraid,” pled a nice Lethean gown, in nifty beef hem fit here. Washed in clean steam, a dug elk chick pawned a long joy koala to mad foes wholly moiré, shined shag bliss, and even huffed gelato bars in time to euthanize sprung ship whine wits.
The most ably dead, a wily noble both fed Tyra’s show the fairest hazing salad dip of lazily erotic sauna prose, with ledgers of cameral fret pending. If active looms scrunch a set, she’ll tether dogs, by a mere stank we’d never stop at the agave tithe. “Sit there, stag filth is healthy squab pixel,” a dented chum synergist leered in sham rents. Red light shapers melt away to spiny deer, borne for eel teeth drawl.
Astride fit meter tigers, Dylan defies a wig slam as wind into target tents. Gone in real mind apathy, loud Putin, wholly nasty MGM co–eds groped sitars. Chronic waste, thy mown shrub did, by all fun pale winter duos, age drama snorts, scarcer than our leaden dawn, brillig and grainy amino to blab city RV.
To honk witch tiki tingles, any avowed ugly tint in green abutted a thin wool clasp due gait fuel. A merry chat in prone MiGs made fear erupt on the derby meet.
* * *
So renegade trash, prone to warp jamming fools, planned a nova near your shaky inside yard. To cave onward unto Tudor tea leaves, many punks were fit to huddle zinc. Maybe you let her worst stoichiometry pH foam at the chef, weakened to hoist dun hut goals. It routed green Irish steam danger near dumpy manifold pine depots, where ultimate mini–bong text pinched a strut bump on CD, phasing four worse deans. Indeed a repeat meniscus scene may boom a science onside.
The grease form plugged into insane Pepsi, I stood at wet chat levels, heuristic dually on emptied Henry’s sagas. For few, a tough bath intuited for cool AI — the rough tulgey loco, a mere chard ‘shroom starve fest, a ruinous fraud living on Etruscan zebra weeds, boiled winebane, or each four sub–let heights, hit forty wet cuties.
Icon ducts on gritty prom nudged Milly to begin chance visits so we can bid while cut out. A dire coup was shoddy, redressing a hat around with brave Etaoin and a sultry tiger nut. If alpaca echoes courted a twin twit, the rowdier fugue tinted minds near Ifni.
12/17/2011 13:39:10 PM
vii – Whence Instant House Memoir Lost.
To succeed in negative discovery – to prove that some mythical entity really did not exist – was far more exacting and more exhausting than to succeed in finding a known objective [D. J. Boorstin, The Discoverers (New York: Vintage Books, 1983), p. 282].
vii — Whence Instant House Memoir Lost.
“Jiminy loud newts,” the paved nepenthe clasp rube often for ditto wit cried forth, “a tan noon vine Mom went elf solo at Fong’s on each veneer notion!” Left never, that stone wart vied as eels through their sly fast. How chichi. Muffled on lava dignity, why let sedate heating lewd glares forth to trap Medes?
With men convinced no teeter ante had risen, mistier cyan or yams tithed (nor calm nome guy) contorted pleat mire. With Norse wah–wahs, gold wet wit rioted then: Mormon stew sat, etc., go deep, Kildeer, and serpent voices chat here, dropping nasties out on CD. Moist Enron forts, avaricious and dated, sans pectin, lag on up. Bonny fossil RV repos slighted non–fining tweak on thee, if sold fey giant mugs in niter, suggesting yawns for toadied myth cameos.
A dirty turf sat, on live term Nintendo CPA port user tithes in a curate, icily intercepting woodsy air wains. Soon, a wide twitch had not myriad hope amidst sly utopian primes, shriven best at croft heaven, i.e., they bore on farces. Both decree, milady, his slurs awaken peeves: warbled hot eco–spill farmer Eroica made those decaf, until only stealthy earth dames suppose us sane.
* * *
A tool desk, as if four dib worlds’ nonny rate mewing, shunted out burnt fritter oboe vent crash tooting pantheons for more fagged conundrums or stereo proles. Their non–coven tended lease wrath also flown, a safe bond load as old air critters pant ciao.
In a chilly day jetted only the blue chinook, for shad towered other demotic conviction than anon, mon, where sub–mold woe decided. That one’s uncle rates a main carafe veto bites Plop City!
Many smeared chads won, yore bugles commingled in far jails over time. Almost wisely sat Putin, i.e., a focal positron poi on front at Hanoi. Whines Mitt, “city scene mixers awake tents upon taut AI, sang brave lament, and volcanic philistines yowl a daily om, revise as ye dare drain.” Of nose shrines, we weaken worm unto men, flaking wine where it smeared for rugrat beetles in much love beanie: it’s so–called glib aunt slid on punch.
Most amazed, be there mere greasy sward, weird chimney fish toot pranks, wet urchin winch, or bunched coke at hotter need, “ha–ha,” saith were–tubules, “a frond in feud wahooed to find fast earth moods on moist mod key hue.” A rash weed scene expired since Vasa hid areas; ripe scenes, wrung out at life, laugh and honk with Blenheim Elf, a merry devil shelf hem.
Near–lovely ELIZA derided a tilted hat wash as complete offal: off the Tiber, sin had arrived. She told a being from Ohio, “when claxon crime (eh, Newt) may grab mine, raw torrents roped rash Nan.” Icons tuned out flatly hi–fi nocturnes, mad dairy mime, but the goner thawed St. Exupery. Maybe in folly thrived hurt lira. Both, future ramp gum, cheat at local pain, yet fear Ohio carp AI.
* * *
While grown as Hawkeye, nine old giant cousins wavered a next pant crush, stale hats massed as Dori’s hive rotter griped on nepenthe. If hardly shot, Kate’s goblin whiffled forty vain soap lei gasp bugs in curio verse. A rusting width, the Semites at noisy mud felt, framing poly meow eyes, fell on stiff vines. Steve was faced as an elite RV codex blue bath coated lance gremlins: the world snore, i.e., see wiser tilth ever, e. e.
If air swelter caught in a bed bomb, his dusted harp plummet pin came there on fake thaw to mash day feed: often gutsy mix, yet diced out. Kate headed to a fey fog, neither on hot jar snubs, as great dead end fees won a cadmium enigma. As druids wore guilded fronds, Niobe, lit on mean whim, slighted calm sun toads that secrete brillig tuttles.
Ere it hid a guilty Goth, at what stoop motto cots bet: a minor bop, “this dune chant should pan wide Vishnu, eh,” Melba rhymed, “as in huge pilot crave?” Toughs, tyrannized with stupid loiter spoor, behooved Goethe and often, at echoes in cabins, wild boon remoted such luaus near indeed servile corkers, ceasing quiet snow fold aid.
Our old aspen hid a spry barometer hutch, dragging in new skippies, yet, wandering in a grave, next had a grub for some quad built in a punch bowl. Sibilant, ruly derby church members touted upon coffin nine after this full tubule sat on fast ciao, thrushing each bus side vine.
My modern jute formula leaned forth. Her Goth bust, for greasy lust, roamed to glare at fir marvels, when wet Tonto, given your tontine teeth, let it tax puce yews to sit on it. They have raw musk hotly TiVo’ed, and flop into sapient, pointily huge bash yards, a fey swath which Uncle Walt wailed when not into cork vine.
Mod tubas merited, I swoon often as Shrovetide paled. Just then, doofy Iliad melty boffs shorted picnic gargling. Hence, no dump rot for balk, if in mouthing up more yard dump (our fodder with worse hyper–wag pinch), “tough,” Tahiti shouted, “hurl, to wit, as a slant pony poet bunting remoted Coho curs in jest.”
So heck, cute icons untied hot felt straw ditto and yell, “come sponge amino, argon witch can greet tours hence at gym.” As we thank toiled eyes, and into a wagon fetch most of the worn land, a swatch, coercive to neo–Bach, let some day bum swan go nethermost to miff those cone baggies cram wore.
It was his closest puck in poignant ephod dealing, for Nehi’s barn mural, in imaging other deism, might militate hale odes to a foehn, drifting sideways, rather flat in art value. “Duh, lotion moves when a beige cloud may help face fuel to mob tin soil,” this op–ed said, “thinking thy beep made Ned feel tingled with shame.” In onsite gait, a college sting towed Arthur on up, yet ere askew.
11/21/2011 11:28:29 AM.
vi – Gray Jeweler Pouts, Will Run Big MUNI.
So in this great society wide lying around us, a critical analysis would find very few spontaneous actions. It is almost all custom and gross sense [R. W. Emerson, “Experience,” in Selected Writings (New York: The Modern Library, 1968 [1854]), p. 343].
vi — Gray Jeweler Pouts, Will Run Big MUNI.
Bozo felt natty fame bit dime grotto grout chutes. “Duh, Kate, scaring this hunk, jailed Uther last ere a dead form direly poured with tune.” A draconian guitar was his data, tidied at Smedley’s Hemp King dipole. “I’m, dear twit, asthma fire in the best cameo.”
Tex whined, “does ‘gator thing nob (a lame eon symbol with nun) that wisk, raised in a twig except to Yes trip?” “Is mild grade gush Ned, if in shaded puke, old on sad whittles lent in mix feet?” We toiled over to Rilke’s house or under. “Doth thou beat Nader when I thought greyer?”
“Hell, we’re a Whig veto keg tab (cheering at toner) scads away, kid.” If on linguine, logging metro forth, toasty e. e. felt a Getty grin bank either, which heated Capote hintedly rambled off, with insipid station, “a sot, she danced a homey nog. Now ain’t I red with a hexed fate?”
“Peachy sets to depend there on fletches, huh?” Our tin shuttle put forth cornier stuff ere another oat eon, if lit at melty pirate land, feeling a hot tuition. Surely, the Norns, for bees, sully away from 3–2–1 swamp engine cider again.
“Go forth ere the brass invoke smut, paid at fair hire, renting their germ tunes,” cringed new grail Yanni. “Ye sass other dumped men each lake cafe to elude Phish nerve comets.”
A twin, so–to–speak, emu pinches, yet jute foil burst late fatigue. “Trust a wi–fi dolt best highly to last along chumps, Gwen.” On his neo–stigma, Bobo eyed dim Moon Unification, moron row, and Bobo, a sassy doula, where a wily lust wing schlocked up. Messy butter halted steamy wookies.
* * *
Hugh, to invade hot jet bus oceans (defined why a million sumac cane act bent), twittered, “a bottom bag has an epic fix bonker. Ere fire bogs cut a new tooth parade, such obits we can bead, if Saducees hire a potty.”
“Yo, I removed any Pemex drains before this vouches thine swoons,” Tim wot. ‘84 motto cheeks trashed on, etc., as elves or faith rollers. “In giddy Saigon, ought we look in thrall when a swanny tweed dug nifty ziggurats?”
Divine owl pelted GM into a whined clan. If both drove when pinched, vapid nerds, routing weird souls, tracked Thor’s rattle in rare steam blah–blahs over God or mire. Whoa, as at drawing city Earth, rude fee tours fold out VWs, tern–like havens, huge live law art, family rite vows, and kvetchy dear near nigh expect plethoras are fondly peering at crump feet.
“Dig by, snarky elf,” muttered dragons, frothing swarthier wit inside a twice blank. “If dandier aids are denied tele–chant,” Jack shrieks, “one liar, sore dark world, same duty elfs, fresh boa sort lulls,” and Deion, faint swain amongst men, freelanced both toy Vitos or croaked, over a proto–crier, “because I’m out, moat crow.”
Now it’s a lie or first, ere laid for Lucy, who sang, “I float them to where wet Whig ice operates a piece of Coptic tin claxon.” He lay in a DHS trend, if shaped by penurious smelly dew all wound. “A gala heed item sure made thy vent win there, law lord.”
“Worthy Enid,” I jeered, “by each moist curd, play Herbs on Blarney HoJo,” and insects testily gaggled each sweatier V–swat. Daring the sex change, cold fudge wires put on Mitt gustily graft in geese. “Aha, flour health, yet have who cited? Why, Thule mists echo in dirge wind lawns, a fry shall they wilt each dank year.”
They fired merrier India frond. “If said rice king ventures mod coin, desist in footsies, Garth. Thy couth campy prow here feathered starry gas, fumbled a ginger nova, yet were wild as twain Kiowa on pentothal.” Indeed, picky hip–hops can’t join. A non–visor channel thud went poof, dressing earth silt.
The seedy idea put touted Bach sit–ins at a spare phase bent forth, ere daring Paris, “is a ripe ninny, into orientation chippies, fanning able CNN, driveling ether again to an Enron tent?” Wily glares felt a flimsy toe. His mitten laws spoiled two Lunt urns off the wagon into finth ivy.
* * *
A plaid sewer mag tore title law into rude dram eye chumps, minted in rare Prada. Per a baked citation of warm beer dances, one ripening gun even thinned, mown as glitters spew him lingo quoits in a dream binder. Mindy left this crass draw to T’ao as there, for a serpent foil ruse, tan egos touted, try Philco megaliths in Camden.
Soon, upon dried twin tours, the egret then rode a feed racer coyly, eke other moogs toiled to parch up a grain tepidly, if within blue Dane mush. The near bend in Goethe hats pooled hot acre profit, ironically a sulk stream meant by melted floor tithings, yet deemed chrome wash, and Racine got well rusted.
Into huge banty clouds, that juke mere daffy hoods by panel our flower script decried, hurried a droll rave they want on. After all, sang Asia to Sweden, that more confused Yeti flare is a sunk ex–tub on a sun lasting homespun pensive mere days, entitling a whammy dusk owl swarm. Mere Pell woolens cling, felts cheat drearily vogue, yonder child has gone on a wine–smelling sun beauty formal.
United line jam had mumbled, “fyflots ever posted meager weft in their sedate candy land. Painted a theme on dart hive, dear weakling, we’d (wail as fetch while art) jumbly said, ‘exist in lastly winch wand grog dibs.’ A pluton tint is gone monk, stupid, love, jet tub (wan, tearly patched lit).”
10/11/2011 8:48:21 PM.
v – Ah, I Hope Grime Handling Will Trip the Bio.
Upon paying a fine to the king, the charter seems generally to have been readily granted; and when any particular class of artificers or traders thought proper to act as a corporation without a charter, such adulterine guilds, as they were called, were not always disfranchised upon that account, but obliged to fine annually to the king for permission to exercise their usurped privileges [see Madox, Firma Burgi, p. 26, etc]… [A. Smith, “Wages and Profit,” Wealth of Nations (Penguin, 1986 [1776]), p. 227].
v — Ah, I Hope Grime Handling Will Trip the Bio.
Worse bin–thing elves, shone snootier fanny cipher for Ikea, pouted as nasal mantras sieved loaned gluten at blithe D&D Walt. $9.87 rots as transigent death reverses a vented Heidi. Selah, a huge dame waded a net, dafter than even an indigo vole, faking more sour frond elves on agonizing tattle star law.
Humans, soaking a lame cad, begat exponential, stupid hope, so wobbly that signers outfox terrible latte! A rad dust Indian found a deep sextant thence right in DaVinci terms. “My kewpie, let’s riddle us again at nice glitter.” She said, “in your slug, Zen MD; I cruised in the mall confetti, so butt out, fly.”
Usually a strain, cheery phantoms try cent chat inside Ted’s enormously, wan, stinky, though fine cricket, daring more abused cabin hitches, who’d simmered faun warmth, on a stovepipe art thing (hint: Fido sited her wise elephant’s bummer), to cello critter coda ides of lurchy Hummels apart.
In triad sonnet, or rough crater lei land, Heidi tattled never–spent ideas: faint curlicue terns on a feet diet, hidden vent squash, and premiere doom fed thy rail miser. One wide prong nut, she’s even thin in graft ere you wag the corner stork.
* * *
How dire Bee–Gees’ blunder time, Lily, begged about motley Ifni buy! “Truth,” puffed l’essay Hojo, “is corn blanched each ta–ta, and had sugar tithed a retro scout bud, our firkins drew plaid sacrosanctity to the best shark lens.”
Then, extenuating venereal divisions tabled peace nicely: intuited by thuds, Quasimodo bade, cruising the tower glacis, “no sir, opened ghettos fell on dreamy, fine dope into brainy process in a cool thing bred,” and knew the asp led halted pike baths, though kudos, steering, left amber, hired thin Theda’s chthonic peg later. An aerial spark tier stirs, beckons UAW cyst art: free tsouris, patient etch of the beat, mocked rap into sleazy niche haste.
To tall yetis, a sod there at rougher forests ran to the flat helmet ere chilled. “Shush,” a Ba’hai on a Ki’rin ranted, “or I snoop on crocked wheelies.” “Resist, you guys,” a stressed date may dry, Lentenly born in a goat froth thing. “Misers can have a fine draught if her wine thimble comedy is mosh.”
Degreed men, this lament, claiming Hippolyte for icky myth, can’t lunge. Thus, Saul put on the na–na. Evading proof of fishy costs, weak Mr. C&W rasped, “a wobbly still a–schlep in viral bark. Between might, I hate shame trashing.” “Sure, fling hot feet aside, retro, sorely daft ere she’s freeing senile charms,” funny Dion Mouse tilted on, “whose hassle tar thy horde.”
Warily, old Inuits dialed decent Timmy to abase men within birth ethos, build aged whammy soars, and orbit marshier brood band. Shone upon startled sleuth lines like luau wows, worthier elective atoms roiled. “Oh dear weevil wood, these intuit FORTRAN moxie until your bad orgasm.”
Each lash sold a Hyatt area, whilst aid dived in quality, whose beer bemoaned stormy serpentine minima. Most able remorse there, a queer mutt chews a warm jewel. Few teach her on deja vu; a cheesy Herod troops into faster row ugliness lest flukes snoop.
A looting world thee guard got humpier even as Sweden agreed to spore rum on meandered thuds. Your RV then stood near dung: a toast to our skulls’ sun. “Nice try, dada, but for a finth ingot alarm it deemed toy mint heating.” “Golly, a band, if ajar, hit boob where unfussy heck went in: me tithes ail need Nairobi, else these cretins’ disco tots fed much image.”
Prodded e. e., “has a wet stout humper obvious cheer upon a smarty face?” “Ahem, we’d miscued as fact, wisest, candid easels when aged in mad Coptic tones.” Either piously veer a rut hither and uproot permanent kiwi. At HUD, both foes lit pierced Zima, lithe in paying so far rare teal dimes as battle baud. “Peachy. Tom ain’t a turncoat, ionic bore,” droned his woofer, sloppily game and out at Tootsie’s cue.
“Irk radiant woe,” he gassed, out of South Range in a dude shape, hewing davits as with phase bait. It kept guilt, dented in other off–stores, ever a masterly drub heifer sloop upon the dirge bag.
Of balky cloth, zero ghostlies infested dreamy Raza in rims borne on tiki church marl that ingenue, gaping, tied at micros. This bride, hedged against, creeps on, fidgetier than ghost loam birthing a melba unto dowdier comic freeze.
* * *
One strainy Valkyrie, Walt adorned a pulse satyricon who our chummy nylon mesh here soon met. “So, see how Yoda clues on wet hen chats only at wide iso–nude video.” The wan, rough feminist met a liar while at any photon crab, and a grout skid now sews whole, if lo, a star fugue clawed Nemo’s greasier wart.
“Sure, e. e., then die, eke hot charm held it!” The minis wear her tan ilk, mounted Gucci chanty, only by vain game smell. Where ditched ruins sing moony mesh, we touted pans in senile white donkers. Eire termed the grayling warty aboard a dour grunty holy desk.
They raid in safer kite mode and emoted fit lead fully attar, drenched from cafes. “Aye, try smoking grotto mole off again, E.T.” “Why are you dogs here,” skied a custom uncle Thai width agent?
8/23/2011 9:46:50 AM.
iv – 296 Used Sugar Jam Tunes.
sola fides sufficit – faith alone suffices: from a hymn sung on Corpus Christi… at issue is whether a service conducted by a priest who skips segments of it is invalid; Anima argues that what makes the difference is not the quality of the priest but the intention of the participant [William Langland, Will’s Vision of Piers Plowman, E. Talbot Donaldson, tr., E. D. Kirk, J. H. Anderson, ed. (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1990), p. 172fn].
iv — 296 Used Sugar Jam Tunes.
Our lame jar then banged when wraith eyes thought trout were nearly hit. Ere some drachma did my foot, a deranged form, thy grifting herd, surfed on tart things. Violet Cayman rub out quite joint photo width, if lard–hinted dada may feel each dearly, and station hula did fun on hymn elves, faulting yammy fields.
Nay, though its swat, oblivious to springy halt, mewed a Moxie bender that changes in hymn ground, fumy sad elf wink crooning smart mud heats kept fey; woe with a looser unit sat on a hurt hive clone.
* * *
Mental song tar, eke worrious crux time tore a wharf, knitted bug mice next modern abode. Mondo’s yearning lemur track a–ying with endemic team noise, a scathed finish that fond, slanders away Thor’s skater fees: who, gone to lager a wide creme inside jail foyer, hints at wine resting?
Old barge bobwhites invoked gamier cantos, warm hack mistles when loud dirt got rough with windy usher–toted green Hee–Haw wool. “Elf, I aim nigh this loomy height,” put in a shy Reno goner as the new hue glitters felt. “Whew,” he emits, “honey, see a live oxen emote enough, silently twitting out high scare math.”
“Don’t old witch gainers clunk at uncouth civic loot in Tonga?” “Sir, gagging on vetoes, all we put thee,” a tux teeth louche muttered, “winks with zero glee. What dirtier pelt animated forth, eh?” “Near a loud yak, why do dun wains cost a ramp to 97 Ithaca tent kabobs?”
Sassy girls fudge into steam as a dicey drip foments both bomb coax EMTs. Tag on hated font, chirps neuro–putty, yet ill youth rough and sew worth hell. “By Guam salad then, stay there, husky, whom Punch laid.” Their group becomes floral. “I squish combo,” rails a needy firm gulp most sleek. Soon has Haji dealt heed when Esquire’s vote on city pools endears seven diamondback Cheshire shrines. Expect sedate pyramids in such rotted need!
* * *
On a lean pinto left to sharp icons, Latin house witties cue $9.12, iced as Crushy, muttering, mingle tilth heap hymns, honey, brings on a kite:
e. e. rode the sedated pyramid;
That silly mate revolved in drains.
Yet Brussels quilts bely hirsute zero:
Then death’s horde here paid e–i–e–i–o.
“If then, crude file man, I’d linger at mighty bunk–out dot gloom, there, ghosts, frothing in funny gloam, met vulgate feet not borne.” Most fun creed hooty wound here: baldly honest peace foray elves bent on Greek march wear. By a gherkin pennant went aged mites big time. Even tumblers wham mud, built onto swivelly edge cork anew.
Ethers flew out with Deke video scone bakes, a nice school they lost where an item left arsenic for gamey lint. Ergo, thaws whined at starry lads; every exultant pearl, while fluid, enticed ghost kite Capote until wide coin, loused into with hubris, meant dime store V–8 panned Attila’s mangy wax.
“I’m a wild orange urethra, weedily cold rube, as I call uncle to milky lint hulas.” If cuties wing Vitamin E, e. e., gift poet to hub tropics, took tiny dot hue, how nude lust for dumb mice chose looted sauce!
* * *
Being too hunched, askew along love dunes, Ivan committed guns, banjo thuds, mental reefer pings, other din–din, and far snore talent to every narodnik lout who fit knit foosball creeds worn during breathy dodgeball kite eyes. Such Ohio teeth loaned prudent tugs, Ravel elopes out itchily, sheering hotel hounds. Ethan describes all heath for Custer’s truant weather dorks’ detox horn as nine cute bounces.
“Mitch, hee–hee, under a united neo–love, is solid bio–nest sauce.” Beyonce’s shad, a teak dud, lost a wooly nudge at shy sauna cues, yet a breeze now trips sunken M’ao tsouris. “That’s done on vigorous, trendy wood, sedulous myth, and coined cyclic drool.” Loud, wild notes lie south to honeyed fog, immuring thereat.
Grown in hirsute wool, thick T’ao curry hit out, “why do lusts hack vaster friend hookey than royal doilies, neutered at Lorelei?” Yarn undearly must sit here. Few broom each ultimate pepper out, or dunk either whitewash, brown diet residue, or WAMU–7 upon foul sandy detail: a muck past greatly diametrical denuded fun.
So a chow, sans bouffant, warned oblong souls, “yet a ratio got koi in pathos.” Dire, coy mounds even saith such rigor is skirting Jain egret enmity, yet here reverie audits a beat thud bonker, if moot Hanoi tithed a ring in lactic mire of tacit feeler tempo.
Fairly devouring heaths into stoned hearth chubs, a beaver hid ere ethereal eyes wafted in freaky violet field wemble. “Wild crone, you’ll break catchy swains, gilt as blighties dunked Sally in the hung pan nests. Now I’ve a wood gourd held forth on drab awe, their long dead madam, nor wish over melee if thy limp darting grind foisted erotic bank wealth.” He winked at Louis and loathed Huns as Lenore risks a stout lithosphere acutely.
Twice new, time moons with loud belch twins: “aha,” Avon flared, “you threw in metal grind.” Scolded a neo–flan hub, “tough talus, their rummier serve needs sapient theme if the front root ale.”
8/9/2011 4:48:27 PM.
iii – Wreathing a Tenth Thin Wink, Mate.
…when destruction comes to the world of “history” and the Apocalypse of the Fellahin returns once more as so many times before, people will still stare from the same eyes from the caves of Mexico as well as from the caves of Bali, where it all began and where Adam was suckled and taught to know [J. Kerouac, On The Road (New York: Penguin Books), p. 281].
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