13/03/2014 - YOU BRING IT BACK AND YOU'RE SCREWED

You bring it back and you’re screwed, you unwind it and you’re screwed. You tick off the boxes, you just tick off all those flaming boxes and the Swedes will crush your ticket toting with vehement retorts. These people aren’t afraid of your assets, they have no translation for the thingies and you automatically lose. It hurts to be a mountaineer in this part of the world, you’re always afraid of the receiver and its connection to the swordplay overseas. They tell me it’s the sort of thing you just can’t back away from, you have to bask in it with all remote controls in attendance and a few action figures as added spices. The trouble with the twist is that there is no desire to print more on it. They say things that one can hardly believe and you’re lead out of the universal skin to strut about with hippy mood-altering going on and suits being tailor-made just for the state of mind you’ll inevitably enter. The man with the door knocker is always a harsh judge of women in high heels.

The thousand and one comforts I contort into my lunchbox aren’t too serviceable at this time in the year and that’s because the upgrade patch has decided to stop tightening its whiney corners because we’re always replicating the intention with our mouths and eyebrows. These chaps, these electronic pest chaps are hiding the damn receivers, plotting them into the earth all around us to see how we like it. They don’t even rise, they just tamper and cluck the sides of their nonexistent cheeks. Sometimes we all just wish they would grow-up and leave the planet behind before the pipes sprout out and all the way down to the feminist novel section. Goodness knows what will happen to God down there, he might get singed with zingers and testimonies. JDJ – JUST DON’T JUDGE – that’s how one of these titles are printed and the series keeps just getting better at handling its seriously as it goes along. There’s an umpteenth book in the works but no-one gets to read this one, it’s out of print ahead of its time. It’s end-stopped and you won’t like it.

The thing is that boots are always doing what they can to introduce the narrators and to integrate them back into the folds of war. The hardware’s changed but the will is essentially the same so the change shouldn’t be took as unconquerable at all. The computer AI is strumming with soundless throws and balanced chords. Time to stray away from goodbye with a harmony. You’ll be tapping your OKs and diphthongs in no time, no space at all. The whirls in her hair and the join in her nose will bristle and fire up the rafters with so much homogeny that we just can’t betray. It would be awfully cold to do so and we’ve left the kettle on standby anyway. The history walk and the pipe go together like strobe lighting and the flexing of spoons into palpable matter.