08/07/2013 - DECISIONS MAKE GREAT FAVOURS

Decisions make great favours to the acknowledged and fermented. Do you know where fundamental pettiness comes through the most? It’s like tampering with leniency and linkage and impregnable alibis. It’s back to basics with messengers, from photo to pigeon muck. Of course he killed her with the head gaps and spectacular sitting arrangements. Arraignments abort the very vessel of becoming a master magician cause conservatism to turn its hand to sleek brotherly treachery. It’s a trick of the light: the bullet rebounds off the solid stone and catches the underside of the rather becoming tie. Peggy goes to dream in the same way that Erasmus goes off to watch his porn: thankfully and without a fleece. It’s a good key to write about: a camera of reconfigured falsity and shortcut penny dreadful reactors. It causes the cannon to spasm, the window to swear blind it displayed a sad person in the rain. Whether that person was soggy or unromantic remains to be donned in princely robes.

Satan doesn’t scat in veins of blue sandy ring bearers, he rang me in the car, in the mockery, on the way to Cadillac Mourning. Should we shall what it adds up to or should we remain safely baffled by chambers of elusive finances. It’s a loose commodity and raises its own symptoms from conceptual sparks, from the going and the growing and the groaning and the staying where you are. It’s a good hypothesis, one deserving of room on our tantamount bridge of paraplegic rapiers. It’s a bulbous anklet. It’s a renegade ladder, it’s a marching order. Let’s ignore it, pretend it never became something else. Let’s, shall we? Perhaps you weren’t listening; perhaps you were too much betrothed. Oh well. Hold on. Hold on. Hold off before the legs get chopped. The stumps are stamped and chafe.

Oh the fear of chilled conjuring, you can find it in the castle archives. It’s very gothic and admirable in its farcical mastiff slab. It’s a weak feature but it looks pretty enough. There are uncoupling reedits here in this land, reedy and en sotto voce. Whiskers. Chartered. Back off for the funeral procession, it’ll keep the naval gazers happy and respectable in their outlook. No matter how brief, the skeleton phones up the, the, the, there is a darling in the trinket. Absolutely inside, you bet I had a problem with the willing accomplices. It’s time to get lost in the eaves; you just go now and be part of the grand contest winner banquet. How much deeper will I dig for the humongous journey? How soon will it get me dead in an executioner’s portrayal of events? Could we commit a better cramp?

 

Neil went out on a shopping trip to hell just for the baroque adventure. He came back with nothing but light switches that didn’t work and a motor that ran like a wasp in an octave of hair swishes. It’s surely playable, most likely in an ironic punch-up bra. Check either side very plaintively now.