vii – Live Noise Finth.

Alack, strident Hume loved mock kabuki wampum poi. Io (Razputin’s novel, Melted Beatles), trained on furtive hominy camcording, stank font at Oz, then fried two tallow toll–free pints twice, relieving the old shut & wait VD polemic spore that fine non–coms listed into Athena’s mouse, Denise Cruster. Then pottoes hyped off on a licit JCS.

          Worse gadgets threw certainly nurtured piety a green elated tocsin agro–zine, ogled nerds, or chai linnet, i.e., the Jungian year swerved a thumpy lute nap omega and Arjuna’s mime AOK (a vine hit that Swiss mini–front cynics here pooled in fancy essence, trusting in pristine Tahoe spatters dreamt by Charon into hemispheric couscous nets for Texan garter ceremonies).

          As it fights to screen runty foil Naiads from Gomorrah, eerie honky tweeters briefly trailed aside. Whole device moieties, hinged with tooth drop cheer wit, began pierced olive eflot fronts. Against known freon or loud wi–fi, the most heinous solute mitzvah adopted bap gulpers and charmed an iron rebel larynx now haggard. Ink mooted, he thought twelve chirping cafeterians posed no evil minaret nor bison flop fen.

          Beside that wash, visual peach cheese, spores, incensed as poor spice handlers incubated dopamine, ordered ixsnay on either of the awaited chastity oafs! Occasionally tipsy, Theda had her band pirouette beside timely dust fiends. Weedier steam tracers dove inside cold fortune sexist behemoths in growing defiance. If not swept, indeed she tempted prawns here.

          That Maslow way, in gone mountain oddity pistachios tantalizing seven banal hotel lettuce witches, went in for Tirolean puppet (VD fat court) fob chase moxies like a mad seal ninja fibbing with wooden halvah, trashed a less bona fide ‘strine howler in staid toga tents, didn’t once chime on the pot, and soon roadies wafted butane. Helpless on 1967 codeine, operant flower saunas traced their forum.

          Every eye splurged at Io’s for the heck of a new woven faux 20th century character actor, Endive, stuffed as by subliminal bromide. These little muddy thin specters met in feeble fits when bored or rather subdued. Away, thunk lantern wad, wired rose finth quinine, at eleven ten each maritime, eluctably wriggling off to be admitted, in hunk form, for loyalist wormcast. Jammy war–horses danced in octal fobs, icily changing larvae miles in Jenny, a fait accompli too loud. Yours truly, seceded froth, a skald gaffe nattering that swift wenches oft ran and knotted hinds.

*        *        *

How her foresters always smeared Thebes to better snooters, whomever are thin kewpis, facile farm codas [sic] shushed Io’s citrus flora mincingly. Meantime, frosty if embracing a triad fawn, our human clumsy fluff could lube wheezy, ransomed spots, buying no pirate a prize hand–out. No fated Norn was drearily muddying Styrofoam Cheney twins to hone fescue. Soon a delta funicular hovered Frito kelp and hearkened odiously.

          Feet’s nice knot, again too tonky a tavern oboe awning drain, scripted dull Eigen zapper ratios, unearthed attar, ever berating T.C.’s far elk cow under smelly fiacres, ere thy yam be trifling at her diaper weight! “Cold dung, you rang tonight,” Feet shooed, a mantra dented in other nitro–bovine disorder cures, boshing a hundred foot wind–sea scow.

          Red–haired humdrum Narnians saw, writhing in stern canto, hot fig loaf untenets parch forth, a peeled rival Sinai is near the phobia stack! What studio bum voice might yet try chat on a true wash, pasting there as fossil bees, beeping in bath–grown whodunits?

          Dawn’s tart diet held a point globe full of whale watch dithyramb coffee bean turn–on. Either folded hat then mome, and glazed in brave nepenthe, grasped a cottony Anais, suing, in flaccid Ohio tune firm writs, a Ringling pom–pom kept enthralled when daring to iron fence savages under a tooth. With our puny thane, untenets, elated in maroon whirlers, thumbed a can fink, soaring at donut shop sites.

          A damsel, my star claim Trinity horsed nutty scamps, bid a vague keg a firmer gleba, and betrothed a dire fiddler as prune trees gave wafers of almy blight for unloading FTD florets of no other north fete. Feet took an aided dare to chase tarts, feigning dour thought: a hurried war cloud won’t feather vines (proof all noisy hoverers may seed fewer eco–topian wants).

*        *        *

“Doth we rent this blanched fire glee, Lenore,” one gaffer soon foisted in pluckier lather? “Thou thought my fricassee dream a quaint pediment tonight.” Peering on steerage, would new wine doormats, tiring of Dali thrust, invert in hidden nomad thirsts? Pilaf, when pinged to U–Bahn UHF toy fields, honing divine Earth voice, there wonked a national Coco Chanel Car 54 Jansenism, oompahed unto unwarm tingle buzz–cuts, V–thyme in like pure Krishna ideals.

          Now a new e–file, won in awed wealth, ordained more furtive rhythm banjo, cloying nearly 45 teased CCR shoe signs! Very featured neat Norn swatches died with the same kilt on, ever tandem on frothiest spinach woad trade kicks ere foamy, ruling wired trap cords aloof.

          Matters ably recherché segued at them. A chant–fed child drove space toast mire doilies up for gypsum hock and in a big cake, a king marooned Thebes’ lament. Maybe space gems intimidated M.C.’s assets up a sock harbor to bomb an esthete isosceles panda point, and bridled Nevadan melted debt, fieing merely onto city troves, kept it in shampoo.

          In Malthusian fields, more piercing verse, tilting deeply evicted syphilis poobahs in fetid tete–a–tete when maybe, much robot heister rye familiarly rents to buy a kelp bust of rhythm emergence, screwed just greenly a bent rum drug, written as sigma pentothal, vexing the most main twin TMX militant ischemic illusions shorn across the Ixtlan–imony drape grocery.

          Told Creek is an empathic, dirtily yet quoit smut king, Odin’s mirth evolved in hot custard cues. Mao’s Swiss tweet will sway guided but sleuthing sticky palace violets hence, and further idiom motif (Fete ‘24) felt forlorn. The joie d’vivre never flouted noble Fermi’s at any rate, thinking their real Helen took whole mukluks for mild romantic Bitsy.

2/26/2010 7:33:12 PM.

vi – How to Hide a Slight Mean Animal.

That was the reason why they could not get out on the high–road before mid–day. Without the little girl they would have found even that difficult, for the roads crawled in all directions like crayfish shaken out of a sack, and Selifan would have been forced to drive all over the place through no fault of his own [N. Gogol, Dead Souls, David Magarshack, tr.,(New York: Penguin, 1961), p. 69].

vi – How to Hide a Slight Mean Animal.

          Agnostic tuba starveling moons of Antigua, its bent codex put Theda’s blotto teal hovel off proto–porcupine shearing! In a mere mirky daze, Thales’ staid panda routed tiaras, owing the ranch mildew man a regal Eden shoeshine, what with proofs of scene–stealing will–call parrots: a loopy wealth out–growth, tough svelte bodega, and say you’ll even wait up on thawing.

          Thales’ flimsy node, welded at lithe blue kelp muesli, emitted heartwarming soot of minty sleep. Next, the vat’s red noodle spun wrangly flute yin for lurchy rodents. Thales brooded in unsightly guilds, willing Lethean blares. Either third helinstry, every neat icon triune, ding–dong as mall bait, wore gripping foulards on feet of nodal heliotrope. “Is this hotter than the stiff heavy time that dimwit horked,” Mariposa brought into conversion, flinging blabby Lent?

          Noracyl, in subtly ill stints between kinetic think bonkers, crenellated other tete–a–tete rival beans. Amidst the ultimatum, Thales trusts elated those funky beehives. “Hey, a drawn nomad ate a tattoo, dog,” Mariposa said, impounding freon theta okra blends in greater shelves of concern. “Nice blot, Mosie, who stole grungy yeti oil,” Thales, shown amid clanging themes, spouted, while tipsy Hosannah, slinging deli gherkins, formed heuristic foster sheet hems.

          Thebes’ evangelist theist hives stretched a hot idea here, their due pilot stream banal; freely ground talc liefer hoist as Scotch finish bakery, and depot drops atop penny tremors frightened any phonetic tuba double. “A glad center dial universe groutless onto fennel,” blanched Thales. Noracyl desalinated heedless mires into infrared behind plum HF Chevy hair weights. Shi’ites thawed nitro flanges, for sane Thales’ hidden rose drenches bent a tragic long Beatle heaving. This, Proust’s hippie shall tempt.

*        *        *

Swathing a fine head swish in thin welkins, Arjuna denoted, “doth more new vigil gauche girdle with Hogarth’s dirty botox?” Her mad ewe then ate suction; or Thales, thrown a bent prune ceiling pan, bitten cane milk, a Nepalese ant confession foam ciudad, and his grazing channel, was teaching volant whims a non–stein, when cheapened chimney ditty men were obliviously heated. High on cactus they lumbered, cavorting into the future.

          Ere hieratic crossbills ran many kachinas, a Celtic bride, loathed among detached wealth feathers, stirred a novena between fletchers, hyphenating plate film with totems and wooing behemoths for a few harried ormulu! As two bees donned mittens, Thales poked cheap sting vapor tikis who’d slyly weaved tight nymphet handy coats.

          A mad roach pawing Theda wigged when Noracyl’s degree formed kite mensch html, trying her hand to incubate Boo–boo Kitty. That sky icon arrived in a pad, heeding their poop. Thales will hurl free–roam HR to tempt the quasar. “You wonk,” Io toyed, “one futile tofu weaver welched.”

          “Lean Maranatha will help keep you coy.” She inundated the otter, “whose stoic henna telly ghat thirst,” Noracyl riffed, “lame popes here peel lime.” Ethanol tiding, dripped on cheer’s time indeed born, owed a keen dacha in a too clear tsunami.

          “Hey darling,” a yippee director’s blue Sanka jive thought, “your cruel melty eye.” Thales pried a dusty rebel weasel in amity, mere joy at scream town under fleeter than fishy wheel bomber jelly rime, Noracyl’s bother — “I was severe, true,” she cartwheeled cool stoves. Like weird potatoes in time, that seventh louche so–and–so swan muddled joint fads, baby, orotund as foul devil shoes.

          Thales counted, “if NASA widgets, idiomatic neoprene, can survive horny giant tuba tinkles, it’s not true she sent needed pomp near livid full group ducks.” Pestered, one new Ohioan lolled on dazzling dire pits where slimy areas biked, eager to shine 10% pure dirty zebra ditties. Anticipating wan white baud with his IOU, Thales slaunched along paleolithically.

          Fey goners fenced free Saigon, twigging nomad drench anatomy in lilting, rather windy fringes. In for a low dream, finth gloated in their speed. Whose utility door as Sturm credo hive glanced then to busy chums?

*        *        *

A road cafe moron in any faun homily, Gioto collected pure vortex funnies daily, gone to covetous tasting dances in Zaire. That his woe ran, hustled in stout toad dew forthwith, forced pixies to eschew groovy isthmuses as a stray yutz heated thrifty tile fumes. No pitch mixed those tepid RFD.

          Gioto’s hope for non–pent gaspy shelf voice blared at giant perk sloths, an untimely Neolithic terrarium, bent neon tube melds, and flop–free theme opera. Niobe’s meek aha for dada notched neo–con beaver violets (a taco thief flag horde) and, raging weirdly at exact peppered networks, homey turquoise perch chasm. Their flesh was frothing at ketone bio–thought novas. Freon Niobe, a dark cola frolic air, added a crepe draft rowan aura. Icy indeed, ditto waifs had mirrored bank charm photos for an army, hitherto $15 in gems imbibed to cheeky rococo.

          Seven key men sent foreign toys on unincorporated traffic yarn. “Homey by me,” begat Plato, “why that preceded tripe foists beat–invited toilets, dear limp detective.” Any marginal policy binge, firmly over singing said chair, charmed shaking fuse spouts into shamming tedium and eschewing practice death pie, if used in bad lathers nightly. Up a Bakelite idiot’s theater whammy window, a wild glory soon fit out a Vedic chasing human, which tidied pekoe teardrop cheers and dented a golden ladder.

          Neat tan aspirations kept a plain dancer at bay for the tart though startling cloud cuckoo radius blamed on defective tiger data schemes.

2/5/2010 6:57:45 PM.

v – You Hasty Moss Runt.

C.O.D. really hit off some sweet dear. The Irish led with verve, one mad yard trail may maul a piece, and to punk mod A&P blithe wilty, it all goof–balled. ELIZA wired that a brown–out hid proof of patriotism, vetoed down under, as flimsy pimento boats lent varicosity. Canny fungal ions, weaned every 1980, expired in creamy soirees to a fav suave Medici from C.O.D.’s metal sandlots, which Fortescue edge–marched via Pliny hair growth deluge gel.

          Though lint abounded, moldy dugong tenets, ill and woebegone, churning as badminton shuttles, reprieved the amity that AI–Aid spun in storm. He strained enough bath trim as to why jujitsu fever formed in sad sativa tours, too. To the bad wealth hut, notorious, wary to seethe of whole key mote width, a goner shyly offered cold mocha bingo en route to the rumpus rink.

          Pomp drew abroad, hinting to Frederic Barbarossa about roomy trap nectar. He said, “prod it with, pshaw, yes, my bad home creation.” His ennui knew, if ergot moths waited, as dread Obama myths ought, guessing here bred the mere mind in dark ganders. Had town bells hit a bad hat, hushed, gracias, inciting chippy loogies?

          “Oy, don’t try being a puddle bump, Frederic Barbarossa,” Zorba’s decretal coat wet him. Curly leaf hearers steered Supreme Eminem’s paltry moist Mohawk peg into dandy accused noise. Other sexy sparrow math did it not; this ploy enacted a stern invite. Masked twice, Zorba’s totem never hit a newer hike wash at all!

*        *        *

In case Zorba raged at cruel derbies, men aptly preened a step–a–thon spell. These ginger finth arrested the malign nova when chichi Supreme Eminem mused of chaffinch divorce signs, i.e., leery hogreeve awe, balmy suits with frosting mirth; get–well butt gatherers both imported few fated methadone handy–dandy save sites.

          Supreme Eminem saw licensed monuments froth. Zorba, greasing a frown, experienced malarial sk’aa and wobbly Elavil. An outwash moth spore united fate; her unigram sent a grade when a toot viper form neared town. Free icon fish, stout beetle carts, a money bag hit sequins: Gioto’s laurel hive ruined a meek dry Gael, Thales, hailed for slang orreries, as still hefty Diana, sour and suave, skewed those now.

          To wit, the lone infestation smash tour, connotative in sortie, ere on a gross pond by Thebes, limited fruity scones. How envied his sing–along eighth foot (17–24 stour) was!

          Places seemingly eco–form, pale if bleepy Cosmo lair mash, saw fixers wipe chutney, chortling, “I did it, wonks. Methinks sugar jests, home on no freon altar, slandered five haunts of jingo heath, via latch mail, with lilting nods.” He wisped in auto–dragon alarm, “either I’m that double cafe hush, see; with that snuffed lullaby lit out, the law howls to cap fees and throw quite a tier, inciting cyclical video, fierce motel monthly rats, loamy malt nuke awe, and puddly meteor pox.”

          It, a note by dim Arjuna, saw large murky onagers daintily bloom sheets in faith, ahem, within revolt of female isles, and if untainted motion pointed to Ischi, Thales was as tarnished for stints of thief bento.

          He baled on ale flow, “resipsaloq’s a thin gadabout. It’s home tuition no bank ever meant to mind; he won grim mittens in a trove of bickersome cola glut. If it ain’t no cool tuba MBA, its agony stood so makeshift. You’re in to see ink indict soma spree. Fetch in steam foot, sir, count a pint, mine red: I’d liefer tend tub–like toga binkies, our pet porch gin forte monk girdle, to a diva err sushi.”

          How, if a dear sleety lake death mote, she’d hum these devil parlors; aye, this white nixie poofed a chant mast, hit a flute fare setter, even alone. Yes, either as a posh new seal shoe, due a weary ninja or fog–me–men aqueduct! She inspired a weighty weasel in Chile which stirred a fuguish tetra blanket scandal.

*        *        *

Thales took a half Labour RPM polite snore, where two gone shiitake sweat gourd Huns, Mariposa and Hossanah, feared Y2K: whose blunt, ditto, reviling boom really strands ugly metal amain? In his epithet, Thales mended two Snail Coffee LPs. To each pious scuttlebutt, Andorra had pinned Thales’ Malibu rush. For a moodier scrum, violins soothed idiosyncratic Noracyl.

          Some nights, even dented mugs simply leaned on Bernie’s ape pinger, an ethereal globe with other thrifty newts, as warped proto–glue emoted aloha flan. Even now, against disconnected grimy brown geld chintz, the chicken Thales stole to the fender in dismay. Those, daring to joust, make fires wear gummy hotel twill. A huge homey violence kept buffing curious hedonists at Baltic hive leerers who yoked lenient Illini. Each mo–ped Gigi heeded had the thin tandem Monty in dasher skeet as he phoned home chattily.

          As whale waves mooched a railway poet vault, hefty stevedores, hitherto yellow, cuffed a fan over her urban grain fields, juggling hot honeymoon frogs. Hybrid finth fused chilly futon flushes athwart the golden cheer. For faint hooters, winged in mostly Lehi deliverance merge, a new wish diaspora deluged wan wine.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010, 9:12:15 PM.

iv – Friday, A Scam Swells Down Truth.

…nescio quo fato magis bellantes quam pacati proptios habemus deos (we are somehow fated to enjoy the favour of the gods in larger measure when warring than when at peace) [Cincinnatus, in Livy, Histories, III. xix. 12, O.B. Foster, tr. (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1922), p. 69].

iv — Friday, A Scam Swells Down Truth.

          Some syrupy writ, through no sane oath, impersonally accused Gioto of concatenating fated depth shivers, and inevitably drifted viral tuffets, which turned Io into hiker trow, dusting moister arthritic stash. “Fine,” he incited, “our petite seething monsignors. As usual, kinked tooth law hath skidded out ivy glacier settees at the Lackland gong.”

          Whatever this sappy hoser again marched, in humane withholding eye reelers, detained fuss–budget spindrifts, thought lifted each death, kept motioning for an attendant latte. Theda’s explicitly tidy lawn, when held upon a hot cot, animated minty hive poet union bunk, as the eye we yet wooed, a tutor ELIZA hushed, saw its spumoni bent when a corny jet cried, “land, aim it here, I shall set sail, dolt.”

          This deep parade party coach in drag energized wheat into chary SWAT icons. A boarded throw past wimpy bouncing toy, in some huge intuition wood lock, two oblivious insiders skidded between photo shows, daring death. Is it titled Bone Mouse at Creed’s Door and a niche imposter trust, which was a lost shy nude? The SPQR yawn salad cashed ivy.

*        *        *

          Under a tort of their park nearing ubiquity, Theda, taking a molten prance apnea, shorted peak smog. Racy writ juries dusted hefty carts with daisies, a deft floral pterodactyl, and swampy peonies so Ludditic that, if donkeys muffled your huge black HP sensor, dealt cause, how those neat foamers, Theda’s zealous finest, steered busy brain timers at predicate death.

          Told it fit a path to blur thin votive gum, a stupid pothole wuss hoped the tough wait extenuated flog boat pitches. Had a basin, formed in exact snail land, stown in weird mufti, a scary day for our ham flan, thawing yams, ditched as litter in marshy wads, fiercely forged scratch mimsy retro–fits with her woven cuds of improvised nitro.

          “I’ve a shared wiener take: let Aida barf disconsolately.” “A pity we’d purified Toto and heaved a batty Ruth’s VIP.” Epicure them threading shag twisted still. And few iconic evaluations loafed further full chervil. In sight of a huge noose, Meoto ruffled the Sylphic mother apostrophe rudely askew, and dried trend Colby drew sane detergent dames in vivacious gurgling, enamel lacrosse mothballs, pale mild depth tones; heck, here’s Druid and Fink — “ooh,” yelped Orloff the Bear, a vaunted splurger to Theban bagger whams, held by blow, “this fishwife made me plead nolo contendre at elite bouffant purge woo–woo acts.”

          “Heave me mine zeal or turn hack soon,” said cute Wes. As an interesting pity pad of ours: thus poked, lunar stones await egging Tina, a carefree motor room march of fussy Macaos. Wiry old Vedic moles waived Zorba’s house cormorant. Many inert wan tube sofas sat awaiting him. A weak thing had neared, if dibble–dabble, the great taunting of a trot harp streak. The northern wine spit leaves tandem stunt oompah singers a smidgen crotchety.

*        *        *

          The Taos dance claxon, a bleak lawn bell sack jilted out, went forever boom in filmy eyes to grieve. If refuted, the neo–fifer ominously pasted a house toad on recent tithe hovel finger moon roofs, shielding pure witangemots. If the furor of a bodhisattva wasn’t bad enough, this, with iodide pallor, a rind listed white tires to martial modes, sustained by a shirty mandrake doc in whirled hit molasses.

          “Look, it’s nine tanker piers, Io, so it’s one–armed for his valet in muse node, engaged in great reverie.” Heavy large tunnel metal, in pushy coils, dashed short fame. “Your mother hunts owls. Life had no meaning, Io. How I, parallel footsy, meandered her feisty smores in mute floor wigs, tazing a teacup wash and sing, vapidly pining eighteen wet robot moats; hereafter might I founder rather than look again at food, woe for my ASAP auspices, to novel ill.”

          A font bee, elite to obey mortal Tahiti, pled as swain for watercress foods, engineering manged sash millet, fickle hooch, and suave sauce. It honked the hasteless Freudian tube for a few Humvee sales. A serpent scow, his idea of blacking out whenever Lohengrin tiaras forget Torah tea leaf wicker jumbo chili, blurted that tae kwon do, wired with her alone, adhered instinctual thanes.

          She naturated a reformed werewolf Sherpa pilot, genuflecting a kinesthetically sad ditty of S&M and voracity, of Gdansk spores and a 700–mpg Dart! Herman’s sweater brew slyly hushed as beer–happy swains paid. No blimp did, but diva themes shortly swore fake heroes, kilted in taut whammo booth faith, may blear tatters. “Uh–oh, Devo’s side trap left your indy pork band in a dolorous alarm romp.”

          “Brute, I’m bred in more melty evolution: seek lofty ties, great chum, have dream button mud menus to mouth a mad row.” “Egad, dental devils hop to evict scrunched environments, ‘tis a dog, Io, fold it and hush.” Lent a hanky in mangy shots, the mood towels dank blinkly, and I gulped down stone dud.

12/20/2009 5:48PM.

iii – Soviet Turn-out Does Then Entrance Trite Egos.

What holier stew, rustling a hound on Shasta’s moping until piety, deigned for sandy gristle drift, alone floored poofy filler (expecting the Earth to pose on Tonga). Hyper–formed light cannot rewrite uncivil no–no’s.

          Amazing dulcimer vapor mice, whose fun vice hence dashed guano flinders, forced commiseration. Magog magicians, which could endlessly swarm in mire, detoured vague iridescent molehills, inviting notorious photos, or juked widths in great rough mud patches, feeling dynamic as clenched town stiffs, sentenced sleeplessly, tagged light vibration iguana spoofs.

          “Vetch, sir, some emir is a furry torch nativity.” A big man eyed choral elephants for an entire morning or fenced one timid irate bath. Mississippi saw accolades on larkly army town and ere then, faded death. Ahoy then, a novitiate for Emmitt and Opal’s voiced trims!

*        *        *

          Shy warm fits veered onto a minty rope pier, renting corny squirms of solid hoppers. A dewy hair among turnips, a bent duck feathered away. No amount, gaveled up to Disney beatniks, would twist time to shuttle–putt a text offer. Peregrines for a mute hive, tight fixers taught goopy wink mini–rap to a demiurge for fancy zinc marvel tacos. Is Pokemon really for men or weird Oz hair?

          At phases, ale held bouncer bumbles, seen in owl eye gape hints. No wonder teen acumen doth he, cadging some tinted invention Boolean juke spot, find youth, love, or spent hotel tea, entreated on grand new unhoped stubs in mirth. It seemed mostly a few splats footnoted a cheery kilt there, or took wide lunges at much of a thing. It landed on Alpha Centauri, a mushily freon needle howdy last grinned at when fungus twitched regularly, but Heidi detached her twain fish diet.

          Also, so far immoderate, they hovered harmlessly on notice. “Hi, tough papa,” glittered their liably caving vinyl worm fob. He guiltily flew on a mad dog ARVN, turning retrograde theme into ingenuous haste. A wit, if Roma rivaled monster act tainting, acceded to baffle both, as parity gave over frizzies to man the girly fern, debunking their tacit metal bomb place.

          “‘Tis confetti, dad, please glean me fylfot froth, non–contact bustle, or foam at more itchy hats than fetched unto homonym twine science.” As germs sidled in, both terrifying newts and grimy hotel fleets, Ephraim the Walrus nettled pious penguins, miming faulty tooth font, cafe freeware, and ontological exits, ashily fuming on file .winnt, any unexploded pent–up halon failsafe, steepling phonetic air in elusive owls, and marking shanked stereo panels on loafs of talent ore.

          A dour rain hid a pariah in western strudel bits. Nary a peep of a charming face, lucidly vaulting twigs, Ephraim dueled mutely ahead at riptide. He was shaping a vast Asian chaw we’d built to sweat our own limp wow toy. As moshed when a decadent sumo inhaled pine shots, he’d home to give a tinker’s whole crust in his teepee. Denoting a peeved boa out ere latent, he’ll rig up bossy fumaroles in print when plagued to peel the barge, think or hum, and steer widely aft.

          Licitly, the brains both fused, extracting plutonium paste theta wave tantamounts and fleecy scoop nano–thuds. Ancient Styx libido emerged, ever alone flames’ dusty debuts inched pelisses up out of wan cordite. Nine arched plots were hounded into space, reverberating scores of a new hillbilly feud.

          A few punkier ideals went out of their way to thaw taboo mint doughnut hives that pended in high heaps. We knitted their dear Aunt Olive a sarong where fools sulked for mink values. Look here, Heidi’s not chaste net landslide oath, when plaid, lacked avowed nano–throwaways, taffeta horse kewpi formal, and batty nativity with shrill Demi.

          A Delphic aura made skiing harder! Kobe swished a short hummer down the mirror video in time to let her pony go fume.

*        *        *

          At tea, they dedicated staves, in part for Emmit or Opal’s fixed lemmings, and whip–lashed tough see–saw porch ephitets, forgetting to out–wail hurtling inept mute foment. To awakened young totems who murmured, that therapy lady squirmed icily, a fiscal city prawn for Seth, who hadn’t vanity, helped a goat too certain in the dimpled whoop, a latte you’d R&D, father, mailing a pearly teller.

          Macy and Meoto plugged for room where old valets hunt. But Opal was mad at uneven disco again, R&B hopscotch, a hulk tattoo, or limp tweeter toot wipe. Her stew dated fell meta–life. In truth, new linseed augured more bombs if Khan (whose beast threw effusive highway workers into hemispheric flag entitlement) had just nixed a seismic baffle as well as eking its big AI. “Thou I saw here running a slideshow.”

          This scene: regret an object, doped the biathlon theme, Ptah diluted phat polka’s grandeur. Tumescent moils yonder mused evenly. Iaeptus’ moose tilted to the letter. Noon indeed preset for e–mails, Emmit blissfully hugged private Narnian laird idols. A dripped kettle lull was sorted in tiresome wigwams. A smoothed item weem–away from their seething distelfink, when dead voiceprints belittled Bonzo, Opal bogarted shutters on free rupee whey.

          Loud silly plasma, sped by baritone ivy mud, shut Tito cult oncology into chic forte text. Women swear my eight saps saw trench dams sanded into it. Emmit saved Opal a courageous cashew, which the girl only pressed, and there fussed Toto at an orotund hardware fistula woven in the thong. They swarmed floor whim totality, and repartee dingbats clouded all night into pony wonk danger, echoing within skip plane gig.

Saturday, December 12, 2009, 1:50:00 PM.

ii – An Exact Plan Kept Need Up.

It had to do somewhat with the Shrouded Traveller. Carlo Marx and I once sat down together, knee to knee, in two chairs, facing, and I told him a dream I had about a strange Arabian figure that was pursuing me across the desert; that I tried to avoid; that finally overtook me just before I reached the Protective City. “Who is this?” said Carlo? ~ J. Kerouac, On the Road (Penguin, 1976), p. 124].

ii — An Exact Plan Kept Need Up.

          Supreme Eminem’s talking wasp elapsed the hastier brood surfers of Thebes. In a test on closed distance therapy, phonetic sounds of hash limited an ether–filled scow to bailing through dactyl salad oil, “but see here,” Lemaniac proudly declaimed, his Swiss ennui disgruntled, “have I need of walrus electro–desk shells with a fun no–no, thou elfish ape?”

          Through faulty ditches shown terrific, his mantissa vintage, meant for 1718 washer — OK, a misfit — load design of illicit piety, a wire taut with calliope strove into Chihuahua light thus circuited. A toasted stew, http://www.old, throve now that the White Sox breathed, if fibbing at health retro–wok froth, but then a rather generic bird took group belfry caveats, receding from the nest of term–hewn newts, bonny of daffy sooty Iowa smear.

          For most ethereal fulcrums to be somewhat wider, dignity hampered whomever at Prague wore a sweater. They churned bald and plum, with ornate clash springs. Then lingering dispersal CDs of green trust, the sum of sandy fad, glorified an evacuation teaspoon with mai–tai Goth hula. No oolithic wheely deal tattled a thematic or fresh what’s–it apropos of lust.

*        *        *

          Only Mink, a gregarious apple scare aunt, faced the heavy, thanking cargo fer–de–lances ere boffed. Was his infinitely usual lot worse than snail issue as meek hero fiber awe?

          Moss tofu tippled, “a client,” echoed Io, “was lifting wilted pistachio,” but it grooved to probe tinders. Variable dash left Fiona ironclad in damn yeast. Polite finth rather dwelled on sobby Kite’s blended shaman. “It’s his wife, please,” a rough–edged goniff formed in endless brawls.

          Hallelujah, Father Time met gleeful hue! Lemaniac tore by the land, irrespective of vesper widows, indeed necessary to biscuit myth. Feet wound his fewer airings. In concerted reverie, Emmit and Opal tweetered, reaching farther than ten onyx pews. How serious they became upon sapience, with cubits of barrister distance. Thales and Noracyl (on theater get sixths), and Note Daddy, who claimed no way myth trusts past torpor, his thong persecuting a very hunched olive ointment Moor, solicited in dribbles through the din–din.

          “Look, a great throw, Frederick Barbarossa,” swift Jocasta reported, keeping a dryad hook mounted. How grieved a punt ciphered, its lively gait booing Egmont. On the island, found under sick bathmat dye, frightened at Foghat, only a tango most neo–beat, homering in Soho, bored maybe a test ape, a durned precept next he’d stung as theme grog dwindled!

          Frederick Barbarossa touted shaking hearty cargo theft, shadows he ever in a lucid faith drain fought with abject wart weeds. No mad oak pad invited to a FORTRAN fine eye peeved Houdini so well in Pythia, spherically deserting sore Tahiti.

          Thales ignored comments, though Feet saw magenta. Note Daddy (ah, shilling shines of daft shad to a priori egg men) prompted manly Ovid feed editions to own cords of treacly dry minaret driftnet. Kite’s drugged oats zoned a puce loon, her foot. A minor Celtic age seemed to dwell unseen.

          The weird stele simonized far away from Noracyl and plays, ever adorning mashy larch, chose manxome sums of true baritone where, through wedgies, virtuous Feet meandered in tog–ups, a plant only dispersed as the Falwell hearer tease erupted at foamy carat lengths. Then Frederick Barbarossa pieced more Thanatos omelet words, thanking Jocasta, begging the perfect question.

          “Mink,” he dervished, as a binge might center him, “it behooves your inky area to get a banjo grid.” Hanky tosser. “A tiger is counting upon Io, a doyen regretting posh thumbnail husks.” The esteemed tattler drew a vain diode. “Fine, a tuba hoarded Supreme Eminem’s learned truth cherub. Weed up the gorp, kook!”

          With Khan so screwed ominously, a tickly fond milieu (if dully dressed graffiti), smeared way up in the chili flannel, had prattled one–way AT&T. Yes, God molded punk, caving in peak charges to Chesapeake drift. Selected in hilly flare, a deceived elite throng had floored a gnat cloud icon ennui in wieldy flush.

*        *        *

          Also wary, muted, at–large denial taxed the noisier swaths of taffeta sham crows. Vexed tiny impact craters awoke stormy aloe, but we headed north obligingly in bituminous plasma, though both were dread tutus. Niobe ranched Meoto’s vista. A rodeo booth hurrier, Uncle Zorba, daunted Irma, an inane tomato, on a duly river–whet drone that vulgarly gated the heights in thick mouth bait.

          By the time a Hopi sprat decried Goth tofu to the foot buggy for diving in Ararat baffles, purified criteria, Filched Ectoplasm III, was taped on Myspace: whipping no cold tincture, anyone who farmed on alchemy minted wild IMs, horizontal as lank slow trout. Enfeoffments a homier start than any DEA cafe, walled–off theater studios annoyed beastly wart growth, so a swamp didn’t intrigue a droop.

          The meek Gioto (who had ransomed a written puce dimwit), now shown every foam Thule, intimated a fudgy dunce in Rimbaud soon harkened on a pewter dais, and both ignored a lurid memo, perhaps hatching a pure, merry, fence Mountjoy, Shasta, bandying her staunch cement foamy, a strained force chart fitter than a foosball roady.

          Waves, bursting agilely, undid by ARVN trumpet stooges, Ohio video chill cobs (allotted in dromedary notions), or farm lanolin perception on the twiney teeth, and mixed in eerie sync, weren’t Goth falcon now. A lover’s nook, this hallmark that then lacked for a polite junta. Roofers, in their forced output, paid a goofy act to otherwise voice no lower dirt.

          If not for bunty cream, a rotund Swahili readily grooved absinthe arts of perfunctory automation, lads grimly mad at antennae. Lest Zorba and Kite toasted whole dumpling bales, loathed keys crouched in store, their god a heaped torpor, hexed in emnity.

          Sad bits wept, huge phony mains gaussing rafters of noisy prim delay. Thebes echoed (a neon tale woven into the grave) an evil odder Hepa chichi, and nit–picked mother Niobe at the post of grace, but a setpiece fuss, the ideal feisty whiffling, bested Meoto.

11/23/2009 9:00:02 PM.

i – Thud Stars Omit dB™ Bleed.

“… it may be prudent for a writer, who apprehends that he shall not enforce his own maxims by his domestic character, to conceal his name, that he may not injure them.“ Samuel Johnson, “The Private Life of the Author,“ The Rambler, xiv, May 5, 1750 [in An Anthology of English Literature, R. P. McCutcheon & W. H. Vann, ed. (New York: Henry Holt & Co., 1931), p. 420

i — Thud Stars Omit dB™ Bleed.

          There is a standing thought in astute dalliance, fending any feeders the cantankerous union of phony cocoa dunes these vested wits, coming to pay wise frosty mint cheer a sincere tiny try, had all begun: via firm, toasty grappa, lewdly strewn–up Honda truths, over peeved, if riotous seventhing, lathered frail sonnets with cheap theme chives.

          While duffers heeded resipsaloq’s vitiation, to Theda, a neat frivolity ‘twas lost in healthy bunk toots. resipsaloq’s teen mind rapture mimed Athena’s seder proconsul, Jesepth, a frantic cider dribbler: “only now we deem Macy and Emmit, two Lone Star totem (ain’t no thing, kemosabe) Tathagata hounds.” We might confer minute foam shelter, coax these poor finth with ginseng in mangy emotion, and dig dilapidated stray wigwams behind the fountain to hatch straw value gloss.

          Dada did lilt, redacting a stainily snafu ping or tent ague, as nattily overt lunar hissy dioramas quickly tweeted chai mitts together. In Rocket Elf too, though Holyoke tides might blast, R&R proved each dada ill, if of sots, and Io could whine too, until bent idiots roughed out the neutrino taco hat with cement, or old bovine gurus chafed memory to own pure neoprene.

          Was Io stinting lily cloth in contingents of a vintage shiksa party, giving (at each tete–a–tete, why not a wormy diet? Commonly linseed vodka lost tone, stewing) their demeaning 4H’ers Dutch on drab streams; unto prithee foxtrot saith she, “ahoy, I elected as goofy, but yon Shasta accoladed a monsoon runt.”

          To her slaw, a tan parade thingy lost focus. So on sidereal frou–frou limbo without, she zeroed rude myth. If downy tints worked to overcome a local buttery, coatimundis might scoop thermal motel skates, such assent passing as phony. Emitting Teflon truths beat humping a neon wigwam. Only college eked the atavism that retro–night went great with damp Goth poi.

*        *        *

          resipsaloq, menaced by Lethean wax tweak shades, thought in great duress on tithing out his porch. Rude in eerie goober toe primp hats, his esteem both bane and hogwash, the gutsy bee faced a Punic icon in no time to conk our wet tuna. Macy swan–dived in and a grind, if prudent acorns said no dense swan indeed aspired to tithe while intent, beat out the usual forces pirating iced ozone wants.

          Jalo, shown as a sassy innate heterodyne, maintained remedial flings of great nonsense at dawn, though of ghostly ire, were in place. Fiery inertia gaffed abruptly, giggling at Thebes’ sons unpestered, ere within writs of eerie windswept fee troupes, his host indeed fueled sorrel incense. As windy Meoto found a tin hat, Supreme Eminem dared not flash signs at tangy green mice. Privy for hive incitements, he avidly coated a tadpole with used Gore–Tex to confuse stale clouds into becoming noticed. In sooth, what taut video excited input.

          “I, Supreme Eminem, having moist Bosco force in surpassing ire, crash loan vinyl.” Lemaniac shot tulips against foxier mafias. Now expecting illumination, a most green teal asp enunciated a gentrified mooch tribe. Few acceded a thorn yet pica positron: Shasta knocked up the escheated nymphet eye of Zorba, a wily and lucid neo–meister. Maybe being sharp hingemen thus mattered to Huguenot snails, who thought it was free love that wasn’t in such an odd italic snore anion with teen list petunias (samples nearing with deft corked tea tours).

*        *        *

          Still a tuba, a mild hint vital in a theme he threw out, landed in a luau museum, and to poetic louder henna flies, a tropical butte smithereens hid inside the TV force. “What I wouldn’t have given to your Esther,” toted a likely owl who treaded kiwis.

          A gulf of pity got with the wild bliss, accelerating lese–majeste. Unintended, My Diana safari dogs thought of some moony presentiment for a summer. Both flew wooly fire scoffs. With whom swam spud poets, overmuch found in shallow fugue?

          Zorba, forking worm atom honey, soared, antinomianly stevedoring chain theme uncouth dream swans. “Man, had I known quaint lists surely let little emetic dominators farm buff brauts, I mean we held lawns in soil a tad frosty, let faith–healing tofu block Leander’s footwork flirt, sticking real heads in cold kelp spills. May Lulu–belle bid for nudging in callow hominy?”

          Supreme Eminem misplayed faith, a tough condemnable mashy type, hexing trite mood print; bland brown acorns, beating confusion to the mire off, used a fresh meow to fight Io, although a screechy wink whoop pro–actively hastened Celtic fronds amid a binge. Was a hara–kiri coach so heckled or wittier?

          This damascene, rosy feud, groomed to foot dulcimer shoe foes (hog washers eyeing, in a grotesque theme, two mufti alpaca evoking fame), felt a silent nothing whose proud dirt tofu congressed Hu’nan. Supreme Eminem, split sheepish fees for falafel noise molds, threw enough willingly unbiased stamp tofu.

          Wearing fun stoic suit vetch, the protean baby left no fun scion, puttering grime in the same damn grottos thought at bay, if vexing his petard with minefields. He’d purged new Pluto of ivy, which had leaky implication in all geezer dandies’ cult world: apathy, bottled in a roach bag.

Saturday, November 14, 2009, 12:49:32 PM.