So the holidays have passed, and I had a kind of realization of "primacy" and thus was silent here while I worked it out. "wind howling over those decreased battlements: a ruin of what once was."
Whispered fates at the foot of Parnassus.
I was wondering when I would turn into the Hulk again, but then that moment, a complete kind of burst-inward, as I became sort of a sterner version of myself. The progression of the man Caedmon, as if to be at once, like a straw-ful effigy of himself, and yet also a new wireless model with many essential upgrades.
I have made it through, as it were, and I wound-up with the boon, the spoil of the feast, and that to be had again and again subsequent weeks after. I fret not in the face of it all, nor pall at the specter of another year coming.
addendum and errata:
I'm saying she sucks. But further than that, not like it can't be stymied or put past or anything.
There was an old lady that briefly brushed-against my circle of friends, and my circle included an old fellow who lived alone, lived on his own, by his own terms, and in that, had sort of a dignity. But that old lady was after him time and again, making it obvious from the start she was attracted to him. I genuinely think, though she was known to be promiscuous, she would have done him some real good. But anyhow, she let it be known to him that she treated her vagina with alum, "for whomever's pleasure". Like one of those trash bags with a drawstring. Like cinching-up a bag of loaf bread, with most of the loaf done "et".
She had the starshine or moonglow when it came to that one fellow, but otherwise, she was kind of a waste. She would have helped him, I believe, and he would have lived longer, but she would have met a sooner demise from her fretting after him. And all that alum. Until her breadbox became like a pucker of a belly-button, and then the guy is thinking, "better than natural man deserves". "Rather looks like forbidden, but obviously low-hanging fruit."
She sucks, but she doesn't read this blog I wot. So just know that. And the thing with the Tiger with the Rooster in it's mouth that's circulating around South Carolina on le media sociale. That sucks too. Emblematic of another side, a world beyond a world. And my boys only getting a measly field goal, and that stupid Dabo mad that his precious bunch allowed a whole THREE POINTS from the competition.
Dabo sucks, too.
addendum and errata:
I'm saying she sucks. But further than that, not like it can't be stymied or put past or anything.
There was an old lady that briefly brushed-against my circle of friends, and my circle included an old fellow who lived alone, lived on his own, by his own terms, and in that, had sort of a dignity. But that old lady was after him time and again, making it obvious from the start she was attracted to him. I genuinely think, though she was known to be promiscuous, she would have done him some real good. But anyhow, she let it be known to him that she treated her vagina with alum, "for whomever's pleasure". Like one of those trash bags with a drawstring. Like cinching-up a bag of loaf bread, with most of the loaf done "et".
She had the starshine or moonglow when it came to that one fellow, but otherwise, she was kind of a waste. She would have helped him, I believe, and he would have lived longer, but she would have met a sooner demise from her fretting after him. And all that alum. Until her breadbox became like a pucker of a belly-button, and then the guy is thinking, "better than natural man deserves". "Rather looks like forbidden, but obviously low-hanging fruit."
She sucks, but she doesn't read this blog I wot. So just know that. And the thing with the Tiger with the Rooster in it's mouth that's circulating around South Carolina on le media sociale. That sucks too. Emblematic of another side, a world beyond a world. And my boys only getting a measly field goal, and that stupid Dabo mad that his precious bunch allowed a whole THREE POINTS from the competition.
Dabo sucks, too.
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