He can go. Thank you. Excuse me, but are you ready? Yes. I'm sorry, do I know you? I'm just a familiar face. Like everyone else. Well, I don't know. I'll take that. (whispering) She's not mine. Ooh, ooh, well, it was nice.
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How willing to jump are you? Your chances of survival increase in number until the moon rises, amplified by the hollowness and temperature of the water. The greyish blue expanse will gradually become louder as you approach it through the trees, while the cool light of the moon begins to take up a new position, glittering and peaceful.
My houseguest took me to a cowboy bar last night. There I began considering how to put the pieces back together again and again and again. I envisioned massive limestones very pure in quality on each tabletop. We sat in a dark corner of the bar, and my friend read to me from Chapman’s translation of Homer.
I usually sleepwalk between two and three o’clock every morning. During one restless night I had a waking dream. I was in a garden-graveyard screaming, “The candles are dripping, dripping!” Then I was confronted by a hideous phantasm of a giant goat dressed in rough tweeds and a black beret.
This was not the first time I put money under a glass bell. In my work, even when I feel good, the bubble usually gets pricked as soon as I begin. Occasionally there’s an open space or a clearing where I would say. “Yes! Amazing how the forces of constraint and freedom make no concessions to our frailties!" No matter, today I am in the grip of an insatiable fever.
Alone. she was a rather tiresome person and offered safe anchorage to any passing butterfly. Inclined to take a gloomy view of things, she always pretended with an air of ridiculous contrition, to know everything about everything. Not that there was anything wrong with this, but; in fact, it was in a prostrate position that she carried forward in complete harmony with her wine untasted.
From then on, every little difficulty began to curl up at the edges. My own geography handbook seemed a trifle intoxicated. It moved slowly and without balance. A random scrap of memory from a backpacking trip settled onto my lap with no intention. I feel sure and contemplate my thumbs.
I think the reason for her shift away from using stirrup-irons is a complicated issue. It has to do with pluralism, coupled with a certain relativism. In order for her to generate sufficient enthusiasm, there needs to be music, the shifting of programs and applause.
The problem is serious. There is an endless thunderstorm and a severe drop in temperature. My designer dresses are of no use today. My hands are closed on a gallon of gasoline in a bag so fat it won’t seal. I can hear a symphony of street cries and the sharp scream of a small girl.
I was a resource, I was sunning, I was sharing, I moved without wasting natural energy reserves.
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Authorrunning the whole length of the horizon... Archives
August 2018
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