08/03/2013 - BRASS FITTINGS AND GLASWEGIAN CONGLOMERATES

            Brass fittings and Glaswegian conglomerates and folding chairs and diamonds and violation of the constitution and windbags and Swahili sunshine and whimsical thrusts and trapdoors for Daisy and textual advances and delectable dioramas and constipation and consumption and gross negligence and yucky findings and too much hair gel and whispers in the open and African mask explosions and San Francisco and Saint Francine and something or other and something and other and maybe nothing worth a damn and certainty without joy and asking the right word and pronouncing the easiest solution and kites that falter and all sorts blowing up in your face and homeless tides and boundless gratitude and respectable women and loose morals and cherishing the perished and being asinine about the assignment and proving your point over and over again and questioning the principle and ripping the eye stalks and protruding like something out of a horror movie and squabbling over the end of a legacy and Dublin deception and giggling quadruped and limping like its hot and wearing out the furniture and closing the theorist and bartering with yokels and grinning tomatoes and plastic homophobia and flagellation of the  Westward-Ho! and describing the description and chanting five chants and blowing up gaskets and running out of flame and singing with tears in the face and letting go of nothingness and emulating the quintessential borrowers and listening to the fire alarm and humming along and jumping down and pretending that life isn't so awesome and prospective foot rubs and jewelled hierophants and skull fucking and placeholders and other Americanisms and hoping for a trench coat and catching the blaze and letting out the last breath and arranging for gates to fall like blunderbuss guns and staring red and stop motion graphics and plugging the gaps with holes and asking for the future and not being able to tell and forgetting the apparent detail and tickling the doorframe and pounding the ceiling with empty fists and flipping the switches and twisting the turbines and kissing the engine and fingering the sabre and summons of courage and unfurling uncertainty and the fabric of night sticks and standing without crutches or such like and US ideologies and Ukrainian diversions and political refuse and spirited debates over hardship and bruises alongside the arm and nobody can say and anybody can start and starting without the thought and ending without the answer.

            So we go and so we try and so we are again. So many others and so many amongst them. So few chins available. So few sororities to give in to. So nice it is to spend the day without a grasp so we can all be going to the south together. So too are we. So sowing makes us sew. So to the castle of convenience. So out of the fire we went, we went. So soon and yet so sooner. So sorry. So sorry, so sad. So-so sorrow and something away to the so on and so forth.