02/05/2014 - THE VICAR'S A BIG DEAL

The vicar’s a big deal in some circles. Instead of freaking himself out, he streams videos of himself reading sermons to the already delivered in their homely apartment in the sweltering heat. The vicar knows that you are anxious and agoraphobic and filled with vodka shots, too much like his painful childhood on the way to chilling down. We went over there to deal with nerves in the swamp for his Grindhouse style, his turnstile preaching that makes us all wake up in a great mood. He has height because of the robots in their tattered green stripe shirts. They make twenty bucks per month but you can donate a certain amount of money to ensure that its wings are properly lovable.

 

The vicar’s wife is constantly in touch with the breach, even became with child because of it. The vicar hadn’t touched her in donkey’s days but we managed to get the magic in her and just hung out with her like bros until the eating commenced and the night became apparent. If we seem wide awake its entirely because of her endless complaints about streaming and how it hurts her areolas. We all want a piece but we all can’t have a piece while she’s murmuring like a salary man. It is this clause that is the basis of a letter of a memo of a doomed development in the cinematic rift. Part of the headsets we built around them is the vicar’s intellectual property. He has since been given an equity stake. It’s unfortunate but he shouldn’t have to live on wood anymore, even less so his lovely wife. She lays down the forecasts and builds on the acid wash.

 

Recovery, the vicar and the vicar’s wife’s son, is on a rider’s report and way different from the rest of the infinite runners. Recovery is most often played by his parents when rails are visible and easily accessible, they call their actions during this arbitrary period mega comfy. We support his ripped fashion pants and the highlights of the funny parts. Just the thought of it leaves Recovery wide awake at night, clutching at his father’s dog collar. His father’s dog collar is named Rambles and it mostly delivers the vicar’s throat muscle throbs in bite size chunks. Recovery loves Rambles and couldn’t conceive of a world without his colicky presence.

 

The next person along on the pew knows nothing about all this; they’re just here to pray and be prayed upon by a hopefully polite and respectfully distant Lord. He must wear white and have spare contacts in his pocket or else the whole theology comes crashing down for this individual and his coffee stained jacket. He once dabbled in fag ends but has since seen the light and repented for the sake of a woman who reminds him, much like his mother, of his paternal grandmother. He collects wasps and wouldn’t be caught dead in a child’s bedroom, mostly because of the working blisters he got the last time.

01/05/2014 - DON'T BE SO GOOD

Don’t be so good, this year from that place beyond the pail that cannot be fetched because it simply refuses to be fetched. It will just go and do all kinds of mind-breaking numb downs that will loosen up the cognitive booms and we all know what that means

an eleven rank

a hermit spank

hands that fit inside

interviews with Danny McBride

patter cake

platter cake

baker’s man

barker’s man

the source of all umpteenth

molars on the front teeth

half the pop

stop a stop

roar

ROAR

Grid iron

Physical Psion

Abandonment

I’m so so absorbent

I’m coming down

I’m combing dun with a fever

Oestrogen

This is the word and the hearing is the entire courtroom procedure because that’s about as much as anyone would care to listen to without the aid of a box of hogs or miniature ladies and gentleman to applaud wherever the sea goes in its avid pursuit of its off-the-hook father, a coffee barista. Your Italian is atrocious and that makes me an expert in all your other failings because twice is a fuck and I fuck with you twice and with duality too. Concede as you will and I shall shudder and send a skull to the capital of my toilet bowl. I send all my rubbish down that way, trash goes into the open-ended remarks of passing papal representatives. Of course I wouldn’t think this if I weren’t a chill arm at a long game of Chuckle out West. You’d do well and you would do well to do as much as you can be in a cave with neon and space heaters to establish the decade.

Come here a second, you, you’re the one who broke the memory into your arse on live television, I’m telling you its glorious as defensive interpretation but you’re being hypnotised by a paedophile because its safer than becoming Pocahontas. My titters are even expecting no groups to form around; this way, man in blue shadow. Now this is the point where

All twelve of my lovers

And I mean all twelve

Shall be given forth into the ocean,

She looks like a waggled autograph on a baker’s dozen with eggs as a totally applicable side order. Now the winter comes, the ticking along gets harder and more difficult and significantly less easy. This ain't no Sunday picnic, it's

Remember November?

How it isn't a flame.

A succulent ember,

a signified aim.

The piece

the Piece

THE PIECE

the piece

The Police want to talk about judgemental prissiness

they want to go into rehab for formalising

they want their naked messiness

a subject to unsearched normalising.

You're a cue,

a queue to plant drugs in,

a cure lacking

foundation

paying no heed

to the clue

the struggling in

halved verdicts

calved edicts

felony possession

DELIVER

It appears that we have a wholly different matter to attend to on the back of this buttered boat. The sails aren't quite meeting in the middle so we'll need to do something about that/

30/04/2014 - I'LL SEE THEM SUITABLY PAID

            I'll see them suitably paid, a job and the works for their little kiddies. Provided that they're wearing the pinnies with the bulletproof materials collected by the blind babe in the cave, the one with the swaddled hook nose. I will run my underlings off their feet to spare a franc for the remarkable places that the kiddies are set to go in. What is this? Am I mad? No, I just don't quite know how to requite my love for the theatrics in front of such squalid conditions. Was there a witness? There should be a witness, it feels fitting that a witness be present. Preferably underneath a hearthstone straddled by a gentleman strangler with a brand upon his coat of arms. The tide washes in all kinds of tourist guides that I absolutely flat-out refuse to read on the grounds that I'm not a musical director. Maybe that Nicholas, that underling's son with some runner's shoes on him, maybe he'll clear this garbage out of my path before Passover. Give your guns up or you'll die while my cake rises in the oven, it's self-raising and you're definitely not of the same case. The good news is that hockey is ridiculously overexposed and shall be attached to an army-shaped rocket and swatted all the way to the faithless moon that pretends that it's little more than a polite satellite. There will be no substantial attack to actor ethics, just concentration on a larger scale than usual. It's a lovely inspector, the one you have there.

          'Little people are constantly fitting me for a fight because of my gash and the way it lurks on the internet like a snake in freshly-sheared grass. Large people are more sporting but they test my patience with schoolboy tactics and moustache shaving. At least a good portion of the battle has been one for queen and country and the presence of mind of both constituting the thinking power of Calico Jack. Hungering for revenge on the edge of a knife isn't nearly as bad as people make it out to be, pirates are well aware of the health benefits; in fact they parade it around for all I care and for all I'm really worth to the wrong side of the law. Men with worse qualifications are hard to come by but their petitions are blameworthy and without flirtatious duty. No doubt our paths will cross as usual, like a celebrity covering a classic song with brutal vocal chords trapped in their snow globe heads. They make their own kingdoms with board game supplements and train timetables. Heaven knows, don't let them in! They don't behave! They conceal crucial political documents for the betterment of society! I don't care that sewing is really just capitalised storming around furry distances, I don't care about your antiestablishmentarianism, about your stirring of Polaroid pictures, about your stringent meat flurries, about the 30 mph zone we just past. This is my icy blast and I'm done with animation studios. It's been that kind of year.' 

29/04/2014 - NO-ONE WOULD BE EXPECTING IT

No-one would be expecting it. Not Henry, Not Delilah, Not Summer, Not Eramus, Not Mr Thank. Neil might manage it though, he hardly knows you. I think you know how he walks over to show her off to her glad rags filled with clover and true blue lesbian starch. My mind gets up to all sorts of sneaky shit while you all sleep in your snug space shuttles, repeating the adages of past societies and civilisations with all the authority of a nubbin. Ask around while you can. No-one will be expecting that. They thought better of you; they just can’t see why you opened up the windows that kind of summer breeze.

After a while the streaming takes a syringe-like form, pouring out of the inner-self with druid sparks and limpid pools of hot water, climbing up to boiling point just to impress the girlies and their ribbed factions. The xylophone reminds me of credit card adverts and, in doing so, draws buckets of sweat out of my prostate. No-one told me about the way she lied and cried and howled at the hollered-out mask of a twice-spent actor on the way to the garbage heap as far as latex is concerned. Though they all knew that the repeats would recur and concur and show her visitations to be merely acting lessons from clear-eyed thespians, we have better authority now. This authority wears a guitar and plays it sometimes just to bother film school trips. And what did we say about violence? Seriously we can’t remember, jog our memory for us why don’t you. Get on the forum.

We’re turning down the bail bondsman because of his choice in sunglasses, that and he is a machinist prick with black sails for sale and a through-route to the cops just to tell them the matters as they crop up. We dentate because we love him and we long to wear his socks as proof of purchase. All the pieces are ready and armed in their lingerie and pebble formations. Gold elevator doors, that’s where they’re headed and about to get snuggled up.

                The cur of all queens, Lily, wants to strap the rest of your mainframe down to the table and repeat after you until climax. This monkey business is in her veins, through her arteries for some reason that we would all do well not to learn until we've paid off all our student loans and shacked up with some radio mistress from South End. The trouble with listening to people is what you hear and what the gentleman expect you to act on without quibbles of remorse. Let's all go to the toilet to have ourselves a treat, the words written on the wall are curved and friendly. My hands stopped being steady months ago but none of the libido triplets have noticed. They have astro fever, the feel of the turf beneath their naked knuckles and the twist of a bayonet round the area we reserve for the little god.

28/04/2014 - JUMP AROUND THE TOTALITY

Jump around the totality without question, whatever occurs will make fine imagery for fine laughter. It looks like there’s something under the water. Almost certainly boats are seeing podcasts into waves and radioactive to buzzy bald men who want to liven up conversation with his wrong friends and their conical relationships. Maps should be competitive, operating on slash fiction via the roll of a dice filled with miniature apples. Don’t ever have anything to do with flame wars that shimmies up universal constants going around nearly everywhere you want to. Do you guys have outlets for these here? I have a justified peapod and that is standard for pedicure pedigrees. Buy it back, buy it all back for the 8-10 hour charge. Put your finger on the race track and make circles with audio footage, cracking the thousand mark straight up in the cloud.

Warm up the town and buy out a lifetime’s usefulness for vinyl records and embolic needles that can only take so much from move to move. All my jazz is really annoying and rather not timid with untimely behaviour as marked in others. What if I want another scroll to the Os? This is cryptozoology in the news like water-skiing tournaments. Besides everywhere is a hoax croaked from the throat of a dying madam in her own shifting mortality and let’s pretend that the monsters are real with their long life spans. It’s its own food supply. A creature that large is worth the assumption, worthy of weird derisive brooking that isn’t actually real. There are actually two different reality TV shows about discussions and their big feet resting on the public consciousness. This documents our lifelong struggle to find one guy who resides in little heard-of film scenes in millionaire phonebooks. The untamed wilderness of the great white north.

Asterisks at dinner: Johnny plays the midriff and his wife has a clit in her cheek. Johnny wants to take us away from Neil and Erasmus and their mutilated chupacabra. How should we fight them? Their awesome force? Their austerity as made awkward with five stages of grief interspersed with intermediate fist fights. It would be hilariously cannot. The US Military would sic the owls on the presiding government out of developmental physics and all tertiary moonwalking. It doesn’t really want to back off from the new suits and X-ray infused invisibility. They are going full-on for this, weekend warriors in between their defensive moments and absolute docking. A really weird collaboration with shoemakers and their radio merchants of airy aftertaste. It’s a funding thing that actually reminds me of doctors in the United States eating their perniciousness.

In what backward-ass universe do we have enough money in oh, ooh and various variations of ah. Who wants war with drink companies? Tactically? A fragment of children’s snobbery that informs technology for fifty guys and eleventy chicks. We’re talking power armour divisions for little yellow birds. Your imagination is the killjoy with any old situation grabbing its back.

27/04/2014 - THERE WERE SIRENS FOR PREGNANCY

There were sirens for pregnancy, of pregnancy, under pregnancy, fucking A and G. As always the happy people shook hands and wore flannel jackets for a time with the hope of killing a few dozen hordes before the sun fell in itchy patterns across the international face. That kind of parlour leads straight to maturity and some of the whereabouts concerning the real shit that everyone likes talking about with conviction. The doctors and their deer hunting schedules often bring this about very swiftly. Not tonight, not while the leader is marrying his own sensibilities for money and prestige. Its common law and the chefs will bear hug it as if it were their God given right to be their own confectionary. Of course there is a space, a period, a glimpse of denial as the skirts are drawn back but maybe they could use more play to test that the rest of the world was all right with lousy banner posters and heavily-laden tables filled with insubstantial old worriers and their kitchenette items that they bring with them everywhere just to fuck hell right in the capital town. Listen to the bludgeoning of the tire irons that hate beautiful women simply because they sing low notes without difficulty. They needn’t be so violent but they are.

            We are the long last and gladdened with eyes on the ball and the beer bottle lid purely for scientific comparison and weakness assessment with frothy desire and desirous lion-taming according to steelworkers who frequent the babyish loneliness of trust and pretty sisters of the green and inspected. Who prays for the cruelty-tipped hours and the one single flight of loved-up tuxedos. Don’t ever get in a car with one of these dudes, that way does asbestos lie. Apparently the iron works so that’s why I’m taking an age to touch for the princess and constrict his wedding with low-charge Islamism and the telling of one thing in the mountains with a cigar in one hand and another straight in your mouth. The dipping of dabblers is about to achieve tree growth status, something so popular it is accepted and tied down by nails in the ass and the lowering of car smashing standards. Some guys still feel safe but the fact is that furry hats will most assuredly establish weapons tapering as if under the customary flower on a coloured man’s lapel. He hit us and just wandered off in penile servitude among other female things that are preferably done on the night of the attack rather than during the drills far earlier in the process.

            I was told there was going to be a raffle but that’s goodbye to my potatoes and my picketing of their lowered standards, we just can’t get out of the rain and shrug off physical shadow just to corner sociopaths for their twinkly bells. She never asks for longer than usual. This is a Level 82 then you know that the support will not turn on anything you believe in.

26/04/2014 - YOU KNOW THAT SOME GROGGY POINTER SOMEWHERE

You know that some groggy pointer somewhere is shooting the breeze with that aeroplane from your childhood. You can bet that that groggy pointer is some detective with his eyes on the prize and a softness in the heart that makes him susceptible to music and wine glasses. At least the sound of whistling still drives you up the wall and then smacks you down; what a courtesy! You are most assuredly a dog with his nose screwed on, a right old pooch to be endangered by the recklessness of willy-nilly time travel. I even saw a few of your adverts, such soft porn is surprising to the censors.

Let’s you and me drop tabs in the lake and see what kind of poison the water supply can make of it. The churning can be seen best from the gurney and then our chins and cheeks will at last by settled on the same rigid path as the rest of the sampled face. As of now the packaging has worth and almost worth the tarot cards it was dealt with unceremoniously. Shopping channels want to report your death but I won’t let them because I have too much respect for you and my date night credibility. Let’s stay in and watch a VHS tape, you and me, and see how little the elephants actually will care.

I spend my day hanging up the phones of my colleagues to ensure the financial wellbeing and my own selfish security because the case and the point are in actual fact two very different objects in varying planes of existence. It all comes full circle and the children won’t know until they’ve risen out of the swamp and actually met with the vampires from their parent’s childhood and their grandparent’s godhood. If you don’t have that particular story on tape then I have been empowered to eradicate several memories from your more pleasant experiences of days in life. Chart it on a photograph and the powers that empowered me will turn you off and make a smart mouth and a howdy out of your lower portions.

You know that dart in the leg on a pub night wasn’t just planned, it was organised by numerous competing elements as well. Elements  in government = elephants  = some groggy pointer out on the street with determinations of seeing you putting around the golf course and doing little else to contribute to the grind down of societal straining. You may have been a good person once, a glad person, but now the telephone company want to know why you’re being pursued by men with heavy purse strings and the fake eyelashes of strippers name Candice and Simulation. The good people want to hail the surrendered organisation with red marks in black hair like buzz kills at crystalline parties with political undertones and a seriously kickass oompah track ongoing.

All the women want to sell you a fish tank. All the girls want to break you in on the football pitch.