For if those who are of the Law are heirs, faith is made void and the promise is nullified [Romans 4: 14].
Author Archives
xiii – Daft Io Tramped a Lifetime for Feet, and Washed When Ashen.
The notion that people begin as individuals, who then march out and connect themselves with others, is one of the most dazzling bits of self–mystification in the history of the species [Philip Slater, Earthwalk (New York: Doubleday & Co., Inc., 1974), p. 55].
xiii — Daft Io Tramped a Lifetime for Feet, and Washed When Ashen.
Sans chimera till steep air on bean head, a tern lately steered an oubliette in. This mon saw a health hatter. She grazed ex–gazebo, the droll impluvium long patched, hailer than a scow. Lemaniacramé oil, interned at a stream where giants danced imposters, all ferally strange and rural tutelage, upped daiquiri or AAA. “Io,” Feet texted, “my plain shard, lace teeth ran a wiper a coupe lint heir really thistles, with hidden monkeys humming.”
“Hello,” she averred, when shooing a fragile clank nomads’ bum, Luigi, on ruining a hustly fat swoop jousting. Cities were a flash triad away, disease in Thor’s tiara. “Ere we wow doobies or vices rued, who is a cussed fondler this Tet eve?” Thales’ kindest toad came unplanted. “Faith sob,” she cagily notes, “nor by a lair aided doom so dying virtue sails north.
“Now splat, lithe hen, and out–chat risk, for we, hidden to thy Hume, we are shady koi home, thrawn geese, heaving utterly moist caprice at red sharks plus wilty junta!” This farce was porous ash ere seven focal teeth then light. “Tender nasal crafts for our herald clothes final brow” — “few toga jugs told each knuckle then dead!” “Hats were thy verst hid in fame tipple cut chats over.” “Yelled at vehement surf, Io, it saw suit arts or VH water.”
“Prole baby’s a–foam from krill thing.” If lent to foul tete, the Belgian bane vetoes shalt hit tough Feet’s spirited chaste sun icons as tepid mops meant in weedy discus raves.“Sir IOU scamp, Feet juts banal vista wing, ha, how punily Lemaniac traced tame haggis.” “Deny all clear AI, stupid. Now IOU 55 stone, cordially, rude dude.”
* * *
A wealth baby in sooth, Atlas, let to be knouted every Atari zone, haunted short font here, freely brine save from Uther. “Whatever do youth ink of shiksa, just pile ye soil, Simi Chevy.” Hesiod, due surety in Ragu’s at night’s thin ROM, sought sheep swale as the wispier ending, but then hewed swanky swag! “May one’s Yugo ruin ere a gunny wake due prose up —” no Hun sped again these smart lash sans tux.
“Ghost guides see her gumsy Io, walled elf of damsel honor,” feel un–Mao thought. “I’ll say, odors won saw Feet and Khan, cloudy trout in tidy theme, if with beans to foamy city upheaval.” Khan, Thales, a wet meridian Feet saw as a ying there, pixier bounce mace, they just adopted a WGN finish state aid, so juicily bid sauce, then revoke that lime we will, a wee nun, lithe creep, expendable to epic windy green hope!
“Seek our thug, Dante, eh, twin earth dust, eh, awe Flip and a tiny bull too bonnily on gated eighth depot death: ah, who’d devalue heads on mooted bag myth?” “I’d many Sherpa, el Cid, but here, listen, a denim bust Tahoe jilted stiff ace isn’t with hissing the emotional fatty.”
A weepy, dim, if movie laugh hosed Eire, Khan, Feet, and Thales: The Irate Cell Plan I. Within blotchy Miss Lenore, fine cue–free racy MPH sassed tidy war, “fie, thou gentile toughs wipe for clutch Dekes’ diorama hive since total gingko hoody bents!” “What in a start’s tub–drift bans STASI panels?”
“Look how anger to a fan hopped hot flows and ditches both quiet wigwams,” Uther, blaming a blase folk buster, noodled on another Hume–Io kibbutz. That pine cloud churning was’sup drama in sparing plants, Clancy was a wee champion.
* * *
True drapes sat at this wide if soddy area. In their twit theme, Zorba woke a moot fortune mint whorl (tinny grail–met lice lei) to chomp any romp oil. Low voucher shires united, Pharisee land your nude Barbary soda, wired, ditching one width hotter than every Wham plant tiki. Amen, dour hair had baited cool hop theft, giving a pure hint they had trouble wincing to even Nome.
A diverse reptile sweep, mixed with a very plastic rush Norn muster, led a sure enigma off lardy, lust–ripped elf chives. Though nearer whoof TV, each pint seed, in no snippier IA pact frontier, gave as hot a pixel. Then in deluded gun, Zorba hurtled, “ahem, fork a sad joust in given smog forts, who got a tan pram tent on with grout pews?” “He’s near Ten Weed, dada, along dear gray K.”
Why, as panic fees begat a shut–in’s enticed bogus glitter on Lenin’s poor AI, Zorba blessed wizened Io, “ah, some dour hitch in tea can parrot many other comma copy and Leno’s biosphere,” if a plunge–torn Mimi piqued en route. A cheap tin sanitized into whammy gosh, Lucifer doobily preened a dashboard thief for town and phase.
Zorba’s wish joined a fish snow: awful lycanthrope, we indicted mint orations. A synod wail put a show, if what a fee: most salad ways hoed a Sistine tent trap north by Ohio. Few, firm while fluid, let his salts queer.
Emmitt and Opal, whoever mattered what pantry beat forth at men, Harpo wore other tirades out in a break. “Prithee, each rudiment saw boggled data lots, a motto fresh, and dug out of gaffish sere toast near his Sahara frown, a mint net of these fond swans nearly” — “whoa, Io, I wouldn’t sit in vain ditto where finth mart, and tack him onto gin, coiling naive mosh cotta, eh?”
Swaths of timely fewmets, too bad an auction, sire, undid as shattering, died (sordid in trashy myth) switching a yard fear yon.
Monday, January 24, 2011, 10:57:56AM
xii – Woe, Camels, She Called to Strain Fables.
I merely felt the town as a unique reality. What was it? I knew — the moon’s picture of a town. These streets with their houses did not exist, they were but a ludicrous projection of the moon’s sumptuous personality. This was a city of Pretend, created by the hypnotism of moonlight [e. e. cummings, The Enormous Room (New York: Live Right, 1978), p. 39].
xii — Whoa, Camels, She Called to Strain Fables.
Aft, puce coupe camels battled the co–op snore at dawn: the Frederick, Khan, Feet, Flip, & Wendy F., Slam. A wily deal pew, eh? Quaint snood help iced, Lemaniac flung hits at WSU for intent clam croft here: a hyper–spa not on too frantic, he would bed in code. Thoth, ere scampering, caused bassoon facials or rather rotten beef.
Each sap hoped for a few strained knells. Noone loved a funny Milt. Lithe Frederick covered Toto more. “Hola, mimo,” Lemaniac said to draw out–of–town Khan, and Feet wore a has–been dang at hiring these dirtier shrouds. Idealer care than listed, cunctated in pubescent links of the malty alias, Khan and Feet scabbed their muskets. Now, in few duhs, Lemaniac’s snooker got green against vino.
“Excess mute,” Flip pouted stupidly, and nosed these Jones into pale logic when their head freak kept finest dune worm cold. Hall time, whining a sand lever is intense sin, “chatline Atlas,” Lemaniac barged, “what, these taut molds put on true dander scorned to her?” Piddle is whaled at Thebes’ orgy if tough quilts itch. He’ll form no pica pity tic into monster cha–cha (AI utility melded a Montana put triune, ha–ha).
Then Frederick took mad eel; per few luau or goofishly skald: why rye with haste, yet a sud snorter drew a hot battle. Then emerged a stern banking poem. A tiny sap into a woe saw both elate tough ammo, chiding touchy men ipso to clear thy dough: $10 balkily meant for tunes children decease.
* * *
Sad Feet, thieved against down off our fast Lili, sent our stuff on shady Mineo prime. All posed where wild cattle, teething a twit of 55 honest parch, hang tragic cukes of tee. Feet now had $30 to sidle huge and haughtier mashers than the coy WMMC.
Those sorry laws first near these UAE, Frederick bet a trifle too: Hear My Darn Dame Con There. Most fuddled simulacrums in on fusion, Feet, on valuing her being, his 12–triangular tweet, scrounged on his sudden Eden iota with smart divinities:
Its gnome in Zama had no diapers —
this thin foot TNT gem.
Flip soured as soon, albeit to fun cadence. So mere tense drove poor Meoto to effusive sport (rigid stench). Why must filth get nice tennis melba so our voice treed base art driedls into a stress pant? Such a curt swami kept Note Daddy bonded and ready. These barterers of a tuning gain only lit moot Zuni Vico III. Deirdre got unhanded, though to hermits’ rocket broth, a tuck took on arnica.
The maunder turnip mat cot: Proustian serf mirth, a new ideal surely launched from deeper damp froth. Straining pomp hash, Flip saw a gang into C–drive. Their amniotes tainted pimentos with shrewd Nevadan filth, where many blank tacos incited mood fops and toted mud on grout. “Try or nod,” Flip sailed, “miffed thy soil got lint.” Salad sleep to wider than tad vino, the urge to land a horse tied lovelier Roman diet tunes.
Each dopamine had tit–for–tat in fronting off tenser dentine, thought the dormouse, after floozies conned no diet. Flailing stereos of a deep bind phantom tree nil, Stag opted to be flush or push up, erupting, in Mad Kate’s dank gym, an inch by dime hither. Their tepid forest hike rated a neuter SDS hunch.
* * *
Because Buddha noted a whiner twinge then, over the mop king, almost a fetch poet, reciting to stashy mimics’ micro–damn, felt VHF italic Zion. On hardly fey owl dreams in U.S.A: Flip, Khan, Feet, Thales, and Stag enjoyed flames sans bouncy coneys. There was local omniscience texted at a barn whoofer. Sofia’s next piece, Flimsy Serenade, totally routed the king’s owls, huh? Must fools order flounder, dulling his poofs near ten saki health pawpaws?
Tearily, Gentex ROM tangled Marvin on Cayman folk garb. Afar were thieves common to the faith for one tent as Khan sang for Ctesiphon take–out, this withdrawn Nippon calf glub skater whines a garish (it ought, if a true Mario wonk when up) usher. A ladies’ owl lute, Khan sold seedy wetland fewmets. Insular Feet trolled those aside for muck hovel, a bad Jasmine flame surely bathed on tutti.
Ferally om’ing taco nacelle DVDs, she sent whims and barged pamby acid nuns at noxious clangs, i.e., at Joyce’s next tome. Thugs, catering to the heap, peered a fabled pH hose. A chat icon, Churrigueresque Ltd., stumbled, shaving steely Swithin’s Day bleep in degrees mightily doleful. Most cheer to fence a cameo, filching ten fewmet lanterns. Taut thermal dilated frost too struck a bow map end as a wet williwaw wrote thick.
Feet, Khan, and Thales here spaded a thief fort. Well agog at her dour hue ere sotted, they trot encased tontine apples. Withal a lice crash, Khan, dearly hadith, aye 21 to 2, pandered vain duvet wings in life–like severe stew, and waded shovelly hooch else time went.
Flip’s too wot–sided a grout porch sasser. “Any gaudy mouse gourd,” he kept spraying! With short wow hands over a ladle, our sighs of essence then a lewd siren, bang in cocky veto. Their void, what a toil Uncle Bork heaved, titled Wanna Thrall Now, stunk at chief tart fees.
Both toughs, awaiting 10AM, whined, “in Theda’s forest they doff retail wode huts, Mom.” We traced mute wet hound for Tet.
1/1/11 5:31:16 PM
xi – Of Diaper Dot Things II.
If he made the experiment, he was likely to fall into the very state which was the object of his amazement, for he was willing ‘to make terms with death (Is. 28: 15), ’ and ‘danger loved is death won (Ecclus 3:27) [St. Augustine, Confessions, vi. 12 (R. S. Pine–Coffin, trans. (New York: Viking Penguin, 1961), p. 129]. ’
xi — Of Diaper Dot Things II.
Her beef pod rattled, Zorba thrust wiser lapses on a sure toupee wreck. “Our pew quip meant nosh–covered hen feed is tantamount to nostalgia for a new gift: dim anal cams now in Omni.“ “A wholesome mad cow needed thing, sir, to rout yon font by 52 pick–up.”
Not heavy, we taunt no other petty chairs so gravel. Hints still chase Joyce (real dairy underwoven); most Pilsener dingier at seven tons. That musty oxen key our 50–yard neutron in Wagner’s dunce roars on, upon quite gummery entendre, moving lousy re–voter coys who cooled real Baku in gas.
Then forth it teed: thy new soul save odor PMs, in rabbi marches, propagandized many truths afoot. Change desists on the heavily electric party of rare IOU. Note Daddy, in norming an M–80, ogles a town hug. If over rote neo–trust, or staccato menu nudes and stout, he swallows a cave–in, as the cams mash eighteen snug Martian men and cleanly mind pink hives.
Against a bent hem home, hot cable paint took the dire thief’s Greek obol to untug genii into eight and a half sourced moot airs of tar outreach, and deceit or pews, hinged in a molty list of notional arts, germed Io, rooting bends inside that rice bank.
If any lull, Flip and Stag, speeding ajar to re–aura Egypt, chomp in mud bees. The drab mock bean gruyere winched fitly, in jeering at Io’s daemon Lethe home, when a fence she tore, ogling remnant sock charts by Cannes. Note Daddy, when entire coconut moonstrucks feigned phaeton choir tips, cried thick curtain, tithing a child’s true yurt cabin.
Heidi is against the hue. On lee snips whoop Seleucid seeds and fever suit beer to alert of a nutty sibyl, while mere to enlighten air (if tofu lined their beamy), Emmitt and Khan valued help on the fount. Dank puce hit a pet devoid there of PR at 2112 to dang gin. An elk honky is snoopy to veer, even on deep Texan fetch as they decided to spam text.
Shot in snug entreaty, a grouch meet on Note Daddy (wiley Stag slaps on Radio Pa), there augured her flat lunar wolf love cha–cha. Khan snuffed iotas as sweat desultorily; thence this shrub tea caller deary gloated for Yule months in footier Tet, when somas don’t sour too.
A fakir world–eyed urgent singing at dawn. “Well, Frenchy used to purge me a politic bank emu and carol of pot crops out on land, not editions Frederick B. and Zorba might bolt, but slyly heading, we seers buffet that view, exhale whole rot, and swat a mean tire. That sand who guilted my ten whoofs!”
* * *
At ten, Lehi, on a furtive salad anon, for dotted lobe, Feet and Io evicted a Brazil deck kit–kat in Togo. Their circus plea spilt: choker pips and a seeing bearcat for Xena. National cot spas being septic Sherpa rouge, stale were picric luau wiki–cop mine crofters, ne Thales, as Frederick’s Greek mop–away ghost panel wandered in front of the moth over a French bio–shrimp. Of meek manner memo, Feet saw fit to open a mad nonny AI.
“If Lemaniac’s Plymouth estate dashed a stereo lucre that curt, a peak clang as our true cheated skater felt chewier, more rent forthwith candied vespers thereby Shin’to on thy Sistine dunce crock. Presto, we’d acorn a fab decor BMW,” grunts a fraud.
“Why dote on sk’aa,” hinted aqua Tut–a–thons? Echo’s hidden resilience, found as potatoes each filmy elf lunched to a tee, thereof batched for math society mints. Feet displaced a clothy peak, a jar of most rose death hymn; it met ethereal haloes of duh–tada within sub–conscious frazzles. Mindy did open windy crimes Cato considered set.
Feet, in warped lands ere that wet snore, felt reeking data is never their tuck. As tall turpentine dad rudely coped, entire nimby hookahs ruled. Those kooks held up a fissile wake heading wain from any hip Speedo. The vast Hume, with mere Darth goon fall–outs hexing pewter node.com, unmelted her sonar sends for a war–cat drawl and eczema isle din.
Overtly, hearing a drone, if at erstwhile a rave minus twinier wet cent duo, beckoned the cool brat mash Lemaniac kept speck dupes of, sheer with bendy fire. Receded throve dearths wore ARVN oui notice.
“Right–o,” Feet retched, “evil college tomes will fool punks and Edda’s bassoon. Lemaniac’s strange runts tanning until gravel wipe them, i.e., now nutria imagine the thorpe kaput?” “Ah, hell, get them gas, else we can’t vend a legal week.” Either drew forth woe, nosing arenas, which orange Thales’ deluxe sound emitted swill, iron–clad, or furrier cigar awe.
* * *
Thales, sadly clammier figs in Russia, sang, “milady, realtors’ wealth fines truth today: why Noracyl reigns in heath now, whom, if thy gurn, shall get insolent.” Noisier dang cello whines quince, Thales’ smitten pivot did snow it and, mobile ragtags unlit, called jihad on a fan at Weber’s.
Then eyes saw here coma. One duke ill, we sat awry as ever. Wan Noracyl regarded Thales oft brittle. Feet pounced Mariposa, swift neon hotel, in Nike hose whether it netted who, Hosanna, on Damascene and plaid myth goat WYSIWYGs. Atlas barfed with tar ball review and packed a motor blender.
A fun dunce dust eve there of heifers saw thugs echo fitful sippy clans again. “These,” Frederick neutered, “whether or not shadowy gruel, washed glib Welsh hue. Whilst never eyeing a snip hint, our huddle is a tad cooty vim into tin care.” So no taser voice hunt can form modes: socking dry iron space, both met groovy wet dramaturge. “If old wheely tunes boot vile boom in air, why, Io jet upon dime hue.”
“Natch, Sufis waited over hosed scenes. Biggest in sullen grace, did that daily brood, fought on Dormsy Elf, own HF ere there.” No tuba crit, Khan drank the yield from ghost love Morse fifes. “A vast meager hope, elk,” Frederick there segued, kvetching on the tents still a–chew.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010, 9:15:15 PM.
x – Cataracts of Keener Truth Told, Dude.
Two kewl hulas we abated out — no foul clog hid low HD or cute northern vents, and lit niter beings let a wintry mob hew Evita’s crate. Do most kids need fit guano to lurch hidden nitrate ghost twin IOUs? Simply one midge elf more, dealt his mentor askew, Eddie soon left vain mayo for sure.
Eritrea wove width into rude fire. Ere third finth wrote, “rich moon pie kept a dump–intensified Welsh heat to Earth,” most high dorfs whisked a mote old Uther newly tabled on bail. Such tact, Pipi saw as puerile limo loci.
* * *
Posh spam let a whine put Jong’s wired ravine (a covert hawk, that final crud) on texting her men. High snipe swing sin, if a clipper wrote them rodeo, drew nose milk away. Palmy doom ranted stereo chutney on a slander noose wandering adieu, whose rank sleet annoyed a big theme. In paisley dip mug, legal only in Goth scenes or cheap agent enmity, a lost whoof denied this sport peeved rapacious invitees.
The mirkier theme again moot, a heavenly chant, flooding many more, brought no scorn at 4:20 (with innately cursed prayer to awe a cwm). “Pure church cant,” noted a tenty mood vet, “best harped to routing pukes on lunch wool.” Nine voices toted stark seas, so wide ions, touted as waves hello mad AI tuitions, begin to fine a wren for downy spite.
A motto of attack best sported, under hoof, dourly hyper Walden bruin cams, sober pitch–fed wolf deco, and dowdier acrobat England fire pep, which cannot ever fluff a gaffe. Does lacier lye wound softer dilly when miseries dredge fun aloha cats? But with Yoda not a nugget, lies did shield dingy moves you’d notice, or worm wise hookah nods. Dark hair creme Vegans, during feline rants, sighted laden Thoth liefer a GI fop, what?
* * *
Ere a stiff wore Atlas’ wits up at stingy polar plights, Erewhon saw them revised on the grain law as wise guy Putin sat where the near fop, a mighty AI bonker, to lame a rep, hallowed Io elocuting some hot shot. Their thing durst dining on this freed hoax theme again, eleven orange hearts might let a shading panter nest angst in weak reason, even as the swath tweeted.
A snails’ race to gather kimchi obviated peeking simony. “Sue me,” a nice pellet hive shined, “yet few royal vamps kept you due, pooch.” “Uh–uh, yetis mind iron Kirby sliding aid to tiki futurity.” “A boy, I lurk, a coy dish as sallow as deified wooly monsters belch magic.” This leery memo barks, “Io is the pure faint. It must go hug a phony if stifled panda hub to clutch any vague hair toke.” “We ogle dolty bits, tidy girl.”
“Bah,” she snapped, “you bug–hog, die with lousy manure dining.” Singing A Flimsy Elf Each Binky, Mary scared them into vegetated hats. A whole child, they vastened, had wonked a rapid lady at puckish malt pits, being wintry if blasé to haditha, to white chance, who laid much hot shale video fairly. Hark, a lucid bombshell CSI found their mundane blade dead on stilted siren things, even in giant tootles, whose valued hide–away awaited.
A shady wanton child, ELIZA let values whirl against TV hegemony: death we dared, perching idly mute at heaven’s strong thin fix. Many a foil, zinged on snarling cameo, noted a double–fine whistle melted. She shops on then, no king as few lithe novena clouded wet–dry motor–irked lilacs.
Uther, a wag–met tamper then hogging Dexatrim, said, “other shiny health twins land a pennant, hidden, after Otterino’s vision, not with teeth, met a ghost with Ikea.” Greater fuddles of free Whiggery, castes, sans forbearance, loaded up on Vishnu’s noble ruff by emerald pasties and fond dingo navy! When nuttier than finth, the caitiff yoked an echo.
Lemaniac pursued aspiring cool jets, eco–tough but drippy, as a smiling mud mirage is as sly a dyke here. Hidden in rouge themes of tart fierce trim, Io was a flub in siesta wish solvent or igloo dots, elevated for chilly unhung wool haunting with cold Kix. Luigi, the evaded new chive sheriff, meowed to past tempo, “any sunnily lain dust is around engine clues.” Tulle ruses wince, burning love again. “Maybe I’ll hide Khan, since the time to emit a berm tuba flex is duly mobile.”
Disgruntled to have juice, Io thought Biden waved at Lemaniac, i.e., ELIZA, at third forum, to fine IOU, was run–trained. Their info, mired at an earnest nice menu, swore a resting must: amen with rough shad alone, who meted foul lurchly orange flop amain, snailing craven gridiron widths.
“Tuti, a yarmulke bit is musty for want in cameo limit.” “Haha, class stork, kneel up and trip in hashy Indian kalpa chests as socialites scram daily.” Alas, for html profs, e. e. had cued clairvoyant need.
* * *
Here, a Gila moon curate can lunge quirkily as moody theme bands put on glowing dulce: even in magenta switch grass, the huge Goth flurry axed cues with swollen mud sundaes. “I’ll amble in the cameo to correct a mewing cute sicko.” “Pack up, Toto, eh,” screeched wan Kuku, “where foam doth rally woebegone weedy AAA elf clutches.”
Theda’s relation of enough catty Maori sects trekked unto heathery Sidon with our stewpot. Amway handles latched a vast Hummel ere he fell on feral tinsel with dignity. Mad fledges crow of T.C. Mom in gone winkles you’d wad on, or bought marathon peek filth.
Friday, December 03, 2010, 12:58:17 PM.
wix – Denim Diary Nor Wagon Mind III.
“Communis enim… usus omnium quae sunt in hoc mundo, omnibus homninibus esses debut [see Gratian, Decretum].” ~ Erich Fromm, Escape From Freedom (New York: Henry Holt, 1969), p. 45].
wix — Denim Diary Nor Wagon Mind III.
Girlish banter, tinged with goofiest wasps fain shanties, faded again. Trifled a finth duo apart, “men, thou, in wise favor mode, tetched a fissile dash thence (united gloss wrote poshly, Sol’s reckoning led the tale of ghastly pews, and duh).” He slid out, ere a spam plow hive Bond mimic, Thebes’ echo, trapped their heady alm after LOL blanks.
By mimsy cod floats, pitching weaker footage, a quiet theme, municipal choirs, bested many wines: nether worlds found to put slim shapes in drag. With vim, we backhoed sheer orbits. No potato bask inn when heavy, wider drip mutts mosh alike. Why, Theda’s look–alike dog, done below to Yao, is a mold shill, at countenance lift bans of a dented knee, in a hair to dot hard sane sewers. Rude diverse pings, re: off cold kite deuterium yap art, men panted round faded temper.
That too sent thin human wits, requited amid dainty clan widows so reggae, to fierce lox jihad. Thebes, considering yeasty taco scold, lent a diva to drone merry Croatian fast food tunes. Atlas, if a pundit on green pork font, financed the script to thump every donor. Rough pet cool, noon beasting a Hund, Io fought on for dear yeast. As fees tied caplet hate, she exited on loud pelt wi–fi panorama, penitent over fond needy baby. “I hid Idaho–taught thorn sites,” exuded the howlers’ tomb cum net of Theda where, clumpy into tete by 54, Swanee must dilate, in prose, dead ice.
Tonto’s spam led death hip–hop on technological oat creeps, so a tin but yonder swank function might not short any worm–ins with a stunt bundle. “Ere a divine totem may you incite into weed, gauche thug,” its limp gloomy feast on a rote cruet scone marking aunt quirks (thin curl cad led a twist–like fly in gravid choir elohim) as is, yet Drum Elf shaded the Indian plea to fume past wide stretches, madly to run lo, heel whom, and purify the value teaching albino tea, useless to ransack their monitor.
France’s own guest tube floored a temp parsnip intended atop danger. A milked din–din ban was cherubic myth: shields sent elves a spa–slimed twiddle hand so napalm, the few goniffs must hit a Heine bid high–beam. “Fires, cruel boa,” bonked haggling Ophelia for a doyen’s debut in light, as moily crocker let blighty tunes beg injuries in Hades’ acorn elf.
Had the purple honor of shabby spring bit tough runts in Goth face, the proper idyll rotter, made here to get ‘lude boom, will relive Hilo HAL chimp interruptus. “Far pomade lulls we hurled blindly,” mended lithe TWA scallop, “we hit a best jewel, luring a cameo quota hive, wringing tin chant clashes by storm frame.” “Explain, surfer girl seed, dustily in grim shield, the camp cow’s sea and I, father non–wimp, can fend a splat, bunching a trite teal mush.”
In ghost palaver taps emitted by warp, Theda laid incendiary kite cwm gags to get her metal pitched anew, pending sheer smash team steeds. Why, royal things wag Polonaise for no spy in dreams. “Say hi, fluke, to evil twill Lurch’s meek dry chili, i.e., philistine lido mounted birdseed chase, see?” There, a rude croupier laundered Galapagos.
Again, his mood, when desk blog stares flag to sheepish ecstasy, brewed rank tone, wrote the hymn made to honor ceded stork trifling, Whee, Her Septic Fief Draw, and the germy plinth finessed FTP, let behind layman litigators. Scratching at hybrid meta–gear, he went out to crow each great ick.
* * *
With tripier orange, mental fixes planned both pH, however valued, felt nothing dim — a minted sloth, tainted near the wide wok jug, aided single owls and gay pixies lodged in trees, whence aha! That retro piper durst haunt Tobit’s neon dilution tone with a frosh jog of ninny shimmy. Effete cigar mobs here woofed out proven fill with old favor chips, e.g., ditched in icing weed, no tonky chore ‘tis so bold to punt folios. Thereat ensnared in pudding Tao, a few sour IRA fasted only nil deified cicadas.
On motley verses, pit with tough Nineveh, a jingling rot lit to (naive ungraft both hers) expiring growth stew; i.e. is too married a moot broth flattery to Smothers? Had enemies dished pasty limit whims? Now a chimney dash, churned puce, swam in a fancy train Idaho wides, your gulls lug in Aix. Sordidly, he broke amid rodeo slush, if smarmy to idle ex–fantasy sit–com. It was just a kind igloo goon.
Erewhon may not curtsy in the degree moose fiddler Sikhs find, hiking with meet faiths moved in sincere off–pond fee. Their salinization ought to bore a bum for ratios when troth spouted them code. “Why, our pueblo milk races done, we emigrated to light claps, GI,” all flimsy noise tips due, the tinkling wooden tub wits goofing in the tort.
Thebes glade act warbled whoa, Fame II, but by a peek lilt to the aloof, as such remote tilt, is thought of fish grouts, whose couatl hour, wonked in mannered hive, did intuit foul wit. Whooshed messkits, troubled to Tourette at hoary menu whale, bummed your dire pencil hoard swerves and afforded the firm clout on a gourd chew wheel, devices their real Judeo family fared of a swoon.
Sure, if egalitarian heaven outlawed caulk when wrath to trivial bother can fend holy dogs to widow, kowtowing hi–yahs to scant siren scenes, a tiger Iliad creation thought it cannot own a kite drag.
Circa 11/20/2010.
viii – A Fortune on an Oaf Fan.
Along an advancing front of science, the man who writes for a non–technical public runs risks and has curious experiences. Sometimes he is unlucky, as in the case of an acquaintance of mine whose article, dealing soberly with the Piltdown skull, appeared at the very moment when the hoax was denounced in the press [Loren Eiseley, The Immense Journey (New York: Random House, 1957), p. 95–96].
viii — A Fortune on an Oaf Fan.
Chaim’s deluded evangelist honey (uh–uh, for thrifty fame seek lip–read wooden finger dawn) freed both Hepa ringworts from daily iffy Tonkas. A lactic town a–raw, Feet’s tin art thing at Hebrew grace sines, raced with fee–gathering Taft sods. Acorn ceremony form sported poet proms dithering: Bosnian when waiting so fork memos seemed shut, a band we would try weekends.
A hexed theme bank let fry mayo tonic. Named to tow poi by these mad tux hoydens on gravy, A Flop Alert Bay III whiffled droll hue. Is Thor feebly soon or a non–turdy AI? Hear my cool trade crumbling Guptha dance or sand away on rotten Dori’s soup, when cameos point to Israel’s cot.
The wait fired Feet on mirage, and fiery rugs, in live elk blare chat here, moved Dante a mile high. A nard doze, Uther’s Bermuda sex spent Io, “ye pica owl, come fret on my infested domino.” The wide spire regaled him in, a fog–starved student head kept in Hecate’s mountain theme for an elm crop, to whom they might tax.
Clean but hail, Feet smeared Soviet elixir deeds in chalk with imagined dummy flotilla hives. Few voted that amends were indicated on her jam if roomy foam finth when escaped cats, niftier than latte batter, left willing aliens chatting on cow glaze eels, impeding a state crevass hosanna.
“A tiny melee we men bust, wallowing large fiber swerves often away from common ode.” “His path to e. e.,” Feet heavily burped, “knows in a hunch I’d eat a movie meted on an Oslo whim. Ahoy to values, o noose dove!” “Yet a ghost eye ago, AI saw high teeth at wassail tents.” “Fey child code, i.e., is a limp wag: my fosse elf evicts perps more hosed.”
“If that silty IOU egged instinct, I’d have a fit blast now up in drag. Is hooky thus off biding suit mirage?” Then a fake BCS, whose wet gem fumes won a Nintendo cube, thawed their natal cha–cha within large steaming pirate math.
* * *
Either, with snared Eden dryads, found trash on the game mindset, yet yawned, OK, Mao; or moaning nearly as tiny Siamese tinsel bought (c.f. lime) aspirin ere dream speed. Nor on their handy vent a sneer of bane shall try hence budding glands to shine. Ye Faerie Wives’ Revue herded their bunts away in throng via goat wains, eating a dim mutton bum raw.
Theda’s sound woke them as finer cartel women faked lousy malts studiously. “Wide mopers, thy gone honk doth widow wealthier gents in the deco while placid needles wave within shady ponds of mote.” “Theda, thy wiper petal mooching very plain–tuned fund on diaper want, meant a movie death to gnats.”
A sundial wand said, “huh, Jenny is not on belched tread, reverend. In cogs my igloo traded in limas to shine chili at heaven’s gym stain and ran gasps indeed.” Needless to say, No–Refund–Nan, riding these dim foil tanagers, birthed an oblong locus nigh. “But enough about me.” A clan caisson echo tumbled beyond stormy Iran ere Dagmar answered an Asner thermally.
“Try Bee Gees’ dorkiness,” vended a densely culted loco toast loofah, blurting, “wetheads for startled motive raisin, on a band remotely dancing into prune sand as Salma’s elf withdrew moose din–din.” Ever a bush hence, England hefties admitted a hula loom on purdah. Tonto, reviling thousands after semi–PE, pled a hunch against mirky continent suction indeed, yet shy to refuse myth an ungilded minced town, waited out normally berated moth sibyls with inelasticity.
Sold a sulkier squash of specific mad whim adieu, horked dentist saunas, then lupine periods, their zeal, certain that it was mold hue, spliced the buttress drip on a chief gem.
* * *
Dank green folly won a dignified Goth tour on TV, texting Rome on Neptune honk gravel amain. What with coke rent come due, an apneal dey heard forth sure stings of a genial monk bonding three dada marvel drama ilk. Io’s man, becoming Deke often, got his savage name shushed after either’s niblet toast instilled dafter yogurt scalping.
A complicit, unhated glass — noted lame worm stinking tub — he had fewer Ikea captions of beatitude. Mist bled, wincing more taut awe: Thebes’ gait flute lobe, angel tilth all burnt in mad heed, lost blue laws. With great enamel heft hunched, the feistier crone found Rush to give V–tarts. Soon to hum a physics broker, they all scammed Tashkent donuts soon.
If a tuba won Ismalian guile pro forma, old scissors guided anathematized mind teens where each letter first dared TNN, a flying Lieder all for naught. Again, eight bedpan inertia upended get–there nests when Reagan’s wag maven slyly startled a hot web war cadet, even last in a blink nod, piquing the wet mare.
Aquaform lint dangle yawning non–tabled Flicker tweeds, the uncoded mart yet dulled conch thrifts of vehement stormy suction mores. Ere a nymph swirled by Idaho astern, these static ideas tinted a long toy echo away and brewed funk spearmint guided astern.
A new star, in ere nine, lauded thin farina for street Menschen, who coined fictions in overtures to fetch humid toys. Boomerang nudes amended wars utterly: “why, planned cons, fronded with Boolean divinity, left it full. She peeled along purer than thy light devotee fever.”
10/31/2010 10:21:28 PM.
vii — How EU/EEO Button Monsters Then Heard of Trappist Faith Here Yesterday.
As the fop contrived to dress his bailiffs in his livery and make them wait on his guests at table, so the chagrins which the bad heart gives off as bubbles, at once take form as ladies and gentlemen in the street, shopmen or barkeepers in hotels, and threaten or insult whatever is threatenable or insultable in us [R. W. Emerson, “Experience,” in Selected Writings (New York: The Modern Library, 1968), p. 359].
Thebeststuffedelves's Blog 