Wednesday 6 November 2013

06/11/2013 - BUT MOST BRIAN INTERNALISES

            But mostly Brian internalises the sexual medium with frequent elision of the sensual factuality. It's a powerful happening, a voyeur's wrangled dream on a pink duvet as it whips right out from under it and inflates to the size of a whalebone dress. I could support the promotion of lollipops but that would be dishonest and filled with creamy sardines that tick, tick, wriggle and shoot me a wandering eye. My hands are, of course, at the ready to receive the deactivated bomb and all its constituent parts (i.e. the wires and shit). Wouldn't the year become something entirely supportive if we wedded a stormy day to a dog's hook lip? The scrapping sarsaparilla hypothesis keeps outmoding all unions with its selective slab interjections. All those promises to jack off in the face of harpsichords, a wasted journey to and from the lamppost at the corner of the street.
            Seen as how you're going out west to text the Dalai Lama, could you possibly wipe out, nay, scrub out the number seven entirely? It just has no practical proportions, the company want to break the bank and send the constituent parts (e.g. the red bricks, the gold bricks and other shit) to a fancy padded cell in the backroom of your local good greengrocer. Communication with children tends to break down as the protracted tailgate loops into itself and somehow manages to avoid fretting it's pretty white skirt. I am the greatest endless office supply to ever grace the lonely typist's table, I fill up like an electrified paper weight and spit out bits of kinetic energy to check that she is still breathing as opposed to just pushing the 'L' key down too hard. She hails from Boston whereas I can't see past her favourite stapler and all of its inconveniently racist views.
          Real Madrid wants me for a purring kitten plan of theirs, they hope to instigate an investigation from the RSPCA to see if they'll open up a handshake clamp they've been struggling with for eighteen months now. I doubt that they'll ever be so deserving of human warmth with all the feet they tend to use to solve their problems. I guess I'm not much of a football hooligan, I'm more or less a hooligan with primitive hopes and dreams, more or less involving water sports. You've won it back! Congratulations! Your right to have frizzy hair, that is! Your legal right to practice with it!

            My sword often plays hooky and heads out on the streets as a strangling vigilante, usually slicing off my thumbs to bring them along as sidekicks. I'm inclined to see them as fall guys, bullet shields and talk show leaf blowers. I'll miss them when the surgery stops working and it will eventually, I'll lose all right to be opposable. At least my shoe leather remains comparatively unaffected. There have been talks to juice it though and I'm currently watching those involved in said talks as closely as a pregnant woman. 

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