Welterwarrens, coma to Cerylean Noxturneus, annex'd aforsted imperimential poezy slag urns. Yau ul fined sumer mentis hew waul'd chirofermentaions of ersatz in varieus idiomatics harem down. Delven unto, indergoest wit thous jeurnaize neysteadier beyonder the zeeks obliquest ions masker aids of fermentuality and fruition.. Disceuvering the brandengines of nutrientsuous poamatics. Associeters years in ohm perpet tuition hiddun gawlden werds 'n' chiepz frum thiese carvented Rorsch'chian textualizations. Darrin to plemb the cadanervous depths. (Awl pured a vipered seasoning to subjerk'd afore thine squinty pent up sun-rites decanted and berung'd of exhimed tin-freu circa twanty-dubbled nowens lattice force nixed a nextus decadium toss'd en to Scribblenaughtus or) Winsome scouring taliezen. Lusum minded nestings. Secrumted, wintarr'd, dishin' fines. Donnam transcind sceular virulescse! Yid tenniel vine surrupt. Grifterden towerd a seasonel pryme. Aster past and grifted -torrified. Dew un tineser & sliptar trewed uv bones inst. Lewftian craflewft awl lone zum befurr'd spooks. Furlin' vine twext otter slip in dharks. Twurlin' thyme mycelial grow in arks. Bidden under, flagged asunder, diggin' dy'n; wing'd 'n' dyin', sundered thunder hereby flines. Neo dimen untertwines, where withal anonymice and menkund's crymmins; diggun inter farden cumpins. Butten syriouz div'n dy'n. Purrfecked vizhion. Pheelun fyne. ~;^/ Thurnsdey lipperyng woundsum alungza streamerin funneled skyes a-pealin' as thies sheddering skinnz a flapered insiding horizers...

October 1, 2009


As you've guessed, this is a narrative told from an untrustworthy source. But I ask you, in all honesty.  How much better is your trusted source? I thought so. Now back to my factual approach. You may not know me, but I'll prove to you that what I say is true. By the time I finish this sentence, which in and of itself reflects there is a thought to be thought of, otherwise how could I write it out, I will have shown with refutable precision that even the most common thoughts of a six year old child are mere companions to a whole host of boiling imaginings, and that its those few catapulted into fortune who get to be considered lucky by their less well to do brethren (when they're anything but) that end up getting what -?- because everyone knows no matter which way the wind blows, it's who you know, don't you know, and how to show your feelings to those in the know who know you know they know, if you know what I'm saying, is that the whole point of playing their game, even though its been the same old game since Eden came, it's like praying, children's laughter, like a lancing wound, or a short disaster in a preaching mood, there's no worse food in terms of nutritional value, so the thing to do is let them laugh at you -?- I don't think so, not where I come from, no; how about you, look down your street, can you tell me where its open ends meet -?- and share the secret here with the rest of us until we dare remember that when our priorities seem to be getting way too stacked, forgiveness will dissolve them just like that.

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