11/03/2014 - WHAT IS THE MATTER OF THE SHAREHOLDER BEAUTICIANS?

What is the matter of the shareholder beauticians? Can strokes be I TOLD YOU SO and a great guy is a keeper who really wants to be an accomplice with neurotic forgetfulness and backers markets on Fridays that make you feel good in sordid thinking that makes us all not really like that and stop us from crutching sadness with scratchy tears and kisser lips that heat up our bosoms with fruitful cupboard sex. The neurosis is great and federal crime is lifting the spender’s fee with wanted losing and brief gifts that lead to tuition fees. You all need short term futures and CULLED INSURANCE SETTLEMENTS. I am the warehouse. I will monitor the paired off hot damn organised crime and lashes of bank robbery. You do what you can with yearning jackets and standing room only that cools the orange jumpsuits with our thick-skinned problems and scientific taint. The perfect punitive guitarist has come out to gone all our materialistic police buses. You are wonderful in the meantime and I’m so funny because the white man’s croquet increases murderer’s batting averages. We are all consulting heaters for sitting in office jobs and managed snake oil quitters. WE COULD SURVIVE UPPERCLASS TRUANCY SO GOOD AND SO BRUISED LIKE A TREE WITH DIDN’T AND DAREN’T. What’s good for you is good for young ladies are green with red badgers and red like shivering showers and droving gloves. The romantic holdings are turned down with the bust-up services like strange men who claim to be Palaeolithic and pint-size. This is not nothing and with all the fabric consistency of a sawdust tie. Criminals create their own windfalls, obviously, and psychiatric trash compactors. Say whoopsie one more time and the uhuhs will charge up the remaining theft of radiation poise. You’re talking about women who cart are trouble while I’m trying to communicate enamoured sums of monthly whistles. Sling the allegations. I run this place like a run-down glorified Fort Knox with real man that do imaginary jobs that pretend conspiracies are accountable when talking about neighbours and irate plate faders. We will give ourselves up and, because the negotiations are suspended until further notice, the pleasured card-carriers will take children away with killer greed and sexy blips. I’MNOTGOINGOUTOFMYWAYTOSLINGTHECHARITYWITHFISHINGTOYS. The boys are day traders with portfolios and blobby trunks that create glum transactions that report knowing glances and sleeveless shirts that raise the candelabras with outsourced households and existential clienteles. The runtime of some children will become pally with shielded gold diggers and silver huggers. I know the rolling over of PRISONER DILEMMAS and the daily defenders of first-time grown-up offenders who know about the sacrifices made in the treachery of a named balm. I can’t print how sorry I am and won’t calm the drive-by makeshifts, not even in foot-pounds. The honey is being torn up and the home alarms are set to detonate while the going is good for as long as the charge takes to differ from the apple munchers with fiery machination and forgetful promiscuity.

10/03/2014 - FORWARD OF THE CARDIGAN

Forward of the cardigan, do you like jazz? Ten cents seems to be the going rate and everyone needs to count for themselves before it gets the best of them. All the dancing and most of the knick-knacks. Say hi to lap dance country for me. Your defence attorney is very careful and chock full of ghostly apparitions and at least until the hole gets a school paper for itself. The overall system of momentary flow will strong-arm the dollar until the maddening yard stops salvaging library spots. Can I pledge the agent to the flag as well? Robbing the lightening lightning who thinks stuff up and drivels enormously. We have a house to go and do it in while the cheques are cashed and the surprising factoids are revving their chain engine with organic blues and tacky drug ladies.

This is my right of way, this is the ample way to refresh the circus of gay cleaners and their jobs well done. Unbelievably undeniable and retroactively well-erected, it is a bad terrible idea gone wrathful. Don’t get greedy with trouble-asking, don’t arrive before yourself dragged up. Would you stop being an orphan before the jewellery store opens/ Just for a little while? Just for a stupendous quality of life? The money is spent and this is nothing and not even real while the greed is flushing the hostile toilets. Don’t spend the rectitude from the bank teller’s point of view, his conkers are vastly outnumbered by soap dispensers and sorry sad sacks that are thrifty and tired. My break is a breath over under and please calm down while the hedonists think of something with their chewed and gnawed money sacks.

All these cheeky cheesy phone messages will partner themselves up with fellas and brown babies that can be bought for the right kind of sympathy and wonga. The daughters of the revolution are doing what they can to reproduce the dawn time with hellish toiling and antibodies. The tunnel cuts straight through to cutting time and the ombudsman shoot up with their eternal shutting up of cubicle minutia. Get on the floor and make a report while the rest of us just carry on carrying on with our mop heads and flop heads and foppish skulduggery. The smocks fit tightly and we’re just rocking them with lifted wattage and say nothing of the money.

She was the girl who was saved by the son on the plane who helps out at most district-sanctioned events in order to raise money and personalities are transmitted through the keys in their gum. This thing is really stuck and the ears of playoffs past that God invented with his twirling curly hair and I already told you about this, didn’t I? There ain’t nobody who can do Jesus with hubcaps. At last the Christians make themselves into all-out sweethearts that use their thinking for the ebullience of mankind. Get in the car and out of your overflowing mind. The vehicles are prisons and the prisons go all the way to seventy.

09/03/2014 - A VARIETY OF GAMING-THEMED VIDEOS

A variety of gaming-themed videos at the disposal,

                                                            the whim

                                                                        the quim

of a quid all slapped up to the back of a fire hydrant that is sent to go on for days, making deals and skimming stones across New Zealand freeloaders. They scorch the surf of the hallelujah and rhyme and reason with the television sets in a good-fashioned natural way. It’s a cross we all have to bear.

 

The viaduct, an aqueduct and even one of the tape dispensers have each been found scattered across the lemon-scented aisle and it’s seemingly expected of us to try and adapt them into the basis of a schoolboy’s award-winning play about recompensing fatherhood and strapping into the driver’s seat for once in our plebeian lives. It will be hard-hitting

                                                side-splitting

                                                                                    amusingly bad at replying

to the garters that were once guts and still retain phone privileges. The testified potency of the shotgun can shake you right up to the bone, right yup and yip and perhaps bunyip if you’re not looking at me in the right sort of business spreadsheet, squire.

 

Tradesmen eat my earth and plough my wine as if the two were even wren’s wreckages or blurting phonetics that tipped all over the respectable grunt’s thermostat and instantaneously reduced its   romantic passage

                        corny indifference

                                                amiable reach and hand of God

but they say at that the chap with the lottery ticket made the episode uneventful and needlessly convoluted but we have to try, we have to keep trying to make this formula work again before the comedy roustabouts get up off of their colourful keisters and start practising the light fantastic for mockery and other salutations. It’s all really rather tasteless and the girl shaves her head because it is her granny-given write to do so and nobody ever tells her how to live her life unless they break out the finger puppets. She hates finger puppets understandably though she needn’t burn or boil them like she sometimes does.

 

Two big spiky teeth and teachers who promote creative vogues and political tables for fucking wistfully on, fucking wistfully for figures of impossibility: these create visits to postal services in their own distinguished ways.

Keen monuments

One of the fascinating things

The cocksure cock and its micro-expressions

                                                                                    We won’t put our anti-culturalism move in the way of strange ideas and lost African lessons that come straight from the mouths of distant and irate relations during piano isolation periods. It looks like I’m the the queen of howling strata and don’t let them in, don’t let them go with concealment powder or their ambitions of being a breathtaking palace of recorded trekking tracks. The cloaks can’t get so close anymore now that I’m possessed by glucose and musical stair climbing.

 

Little Pink Neil

Murky Mister Thank

Flurries Of Airy Ground THAT Freezes Lumps Into Eons

Here TO Stand In The Barricade Of Friends AND Damn Their Lies

                                                            the people plan to rise with ponytails and rising lore to show off the tabernacles for Neil’s sake

08/03/2014 - YOU...SHOOT...FIND...YOU...THE

You will find me in the blue no doubt. Meanwhile we will be holding ourselves in readiness. Take your revenge, how right you should be righteous. I don’t understand or warn clearly.	Shoot, shot, shoot, shoot, shot, shot, shoot, shoot, shoot, shot, shot, I am shot, I have shoot, I have shoots, I have shot, You have bargained for the shooting, You are shooting, You’ve done your duty by it.	Find me at a route and no doubt we will edit the future with kindness and something else unheard of round these here county parts. There will be no petitions because we shall rule with iron fisticuffs.	You better be warned about the worm, he has a flatulent wrath and a wraith-shaped hole in his effervescent heart and rarely shares the time of day with scum-suckers such as our sisters and brothers.	The killers in the columns, there are killers in the columns, these are killers in the columns, they are colonised, they are killing, they are conservative of politics, they conserve their bullets.
THE RIGHT HONOURED SHADOW COUNSEL HAS A PLUM ADJUCATOR TO STRIKE UP WITH AND TIE DOWN WITH ROMANTIC VESTIGE AND VARIOUS OTHER TACITURN TRUNDLES	THERE’S NOTHING TO BLAME YOU FOR, YOU’VE DONE WELL IN THE COMIC ROOK BOOK COMEDY SHOW AND THE VEHICLE HAS FLOWN THE COOP FOR THE COUP	YOU’VE DONE YOUR DUTY AND THERE ARE PETITIONS AS IT TURNS OUT, SOMETHING WENT WRONG IN THE CLERICAL WARD, SOMETHING TURNED THEM ON ALL RIGHT	THEY INTEND TO STARVE US OUT BEFORE STARTING THEIR STRAIGHT UP PLACIDITY IN CASE WE HAVE WEAKER FACULTIES THAN SUPPOSED IN PHILOSOPHY	A BLAME IS A REACTION TO A REACTOR GOING KABLOOEY WITH SAUSAGE FACTORY-TYPE MUSH RIGHT IN THE SUCKING SOCKET AND SOOTY SPOTS IN TNT
They struck up deals indeed and the communion wafers are now flowering just nicely between the bed sheets and bed knobs, almost as if they have any claim to stake or exhaustive replies to make ad nauseam	Away from us are the gingerbread masters, away from our homely instinct and insect’s backbone that runs in patterned gelatinous fluid that tickles the rum whim	The liars are snaking their way through grassy fields in the hopes that the shrapnel will catch them with their trousers down and their paper treaties elasticated and irrational by comparison to you, my nut	You do their nut in, it seems, you do their nutty rut in, you cause pain in the most punctual way with ticker tape fission and overcoming turf displays that cast us out before the property	Damn their little people pluck and their pretty sentiments that just turn with sentimentality and emotional impact that cannot be ignored for all the tea in China or sorrow of the wilderness
OVERCOME THE STATEMENT WITH PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY.	PRESSURE THE PUTT-PUTT IN TIME FOR THE MARRIAGE.	WATCH THE DEVIL DANCE WITH HIS HANDS UPRIGHT.	MAKE OUT WITH YOUR HAND LIKE IT WAS A TENTACLE SUCKER	BRING MY THIEVES TO HEEL AND LISP OUT THE ANTHEM.

07/03/2014 - SENSORY OVERLOAD IN KENTUCKY

Sensory overload in Kentucky: leave this like this, won’t you stay a while? How do you feel about sparkly purple at the funeral? It’s a pleasant plague of sparkles and vibrant enough to transpose the moment with truthful police action. I was on patrol last night and saw the girly things that I do in a new light, nearer eleven due processes than seven.

He was drunk but we noticed him like a caddy of neglect and basically he made tutorials with every cat hair step. He took charge like falling out the ear, trying to make crazy ears so happy without holding bars or singing earnest Chinese faces into existence. His charity came along like a voice and wound up getting jazz in a swing through the square handlebars and the justice snow swoon. Something sinister is living inside of my refurbished coffee machine, the days continue to sing like regression in cool soothing music given in the exact same amount as strong coffee in empty glass vials. There’s a demon in there and he has knockers to expose mostly because of the grinder. It really upsets the theme with distraction. I told you gusy that she does this in a package addressed to my local bank without the rubber stamp seal of approval. They say its dreadful in the troop truth. He must not have died like a muskrat, you gusy should know that like a dog in the woods getting drunk on its own ambition and self-portraiture. Be self-possessive and defend the tax attorney’s right to battery acid and sewage water. What can you do about the bunch and the hitman’s cooking lessons? He uses preservatives because they’re cheap.

The girl that owns the complex next door has dudes come in to plant trees with space age tight fits and hoary chopping motions. The pictures are hilarious and strewn with rage against smash cuts. A taxi comes along the way and runs straight up the girl’s suit and tackles her tie as if it were nothing more than a Hindi cataclysm. That’s my train, a perhaps might say but he didn’t bring his luggage so. Wait for this time tomorrow to see how the someplace turns out; will it be in-flight or merely slowly passing seven miles by in a blinkered thirst? Peaceful thin chaps will cross red letters with drunken shades and then wriggle about with blue doors as if all the colours might straighten his hair out and brighten the corners of his moustache with all the consistency of water waking up from its frothy night time dreamtime.

They told me to apologise for apathy in equipment management and tickets that smoke at the corners with turban pleasure and sweet lime and perhaps a savoury snack to keep the reddened doorways cigarillo-shaped. You are the third most informative person to have ever crossed my tyre jack. Can we agree to bond in the unknown?

A: Shard

B: Itinerary

C: Buenos Ares

D: Any questions about the face?

06/03/2014 - BREATHTAKING SURREY

Breathtaking surrey along the gentle wreckage of the onceuponatime confessional booth. The splinters are just yummy and the area and circumference have been vastly improved, thanks for asking. I’m so glad that the gratuity of the ice beam has finally run you over with espousal quality and an undercarriage to match the finest dress of the firmest lady in waiting.

Chainsaw ellipsis underneath the camp wheel of the wheelbarrow. This is one perfect way to stand for the sake and pretension of realm thinking, you loose your automatic webs like a grabber who is far too overdressed for their own good. You ask and you’re never going back to see what past accounts for The Past Feast. The frisking there’s a nightmare besides. The cold doesn’t seem to bother many of the confessors anyway who prefer to operate in pitch black conditions with a unanimous samurai katana on standby, standing alongside their Zulu shield.

Limited laser capacity from the fractal whiteness of a baby chick in the killing fields. Ask for the nobody in the room and you’ll find your hand filling up with cheering speed and lighted rage that glows grey and spits out navy blue just in case you aren’t listening or preparing yourself for the whopper. Spending a life giving in to the madness of money and gaslight Warfarin will see the tissues fall once and for mostly those concerned and with stock somewhere down the lines. There’s plenty to lose and only a mild amount of bothersome aftershocks created within the cold confines of night time. Watch out for the better beverages because they are the fiercest offenders and will blank you on sight. Nobody likes to be scenic when there’s a film crew with its unanimous nose pointed down and burrowing between the sheaths of rock that cuddle up to the core and warm their tootsies.

The blades hear and stand and stand to point at the hearing aids that we so cleverly conceal behind our invisible ears and flickering ears of corny cornea. Tomorrow lost its mind before the weekend and now it just won’t get it back due to discourteous remarks on a motherly part. The spider has its own band and lives and plays in the light of day and absolutely nowhere else unless you pay him too, each of his little legs. You must be this spindly to rock this joint and that’s the ruling of the court of insects. Contempt is so easily a prayer on the back of a paperback sandwich that money makes for the tasting of all pitch-perfect music teachers and only the wettest half of their wettest class. The casts will be made out to the past and the paste it leaves behind in lieu of a trail, the yummyhahah that corrects each facility it slimes and shimmies through. The man who was a king brought a spade along to sharpen on the grindstone but he didn’t know where to place it afterwards so now he’s just wandering the plains.

05/03/2014 - BASED ON THIS SET UP

Based on this set up the broadcast is filled with fairy dairy reboots and blinking, bilking lights that dictate what is and what isn’t. Come alive with a woman’s voice, come around the ping of pink to spank the protective services into secure public school education or even wire-cutting insurrection. I can only listen to myself in a pool, in a well, in a limitation to the world of electronics and beautiful mantra tundra impermanence. I wish all the software could be free for the lustful night to wrap with numbers and knuckles and twenty two other versions of sixteen digit numbers. It’s all commonality in the ocean disparate from the band camp that clutches on and keeps on coming with silly straw in its pockets. All creatures of proverb know of the sandwiches and the space between sandwiches that damn the monarchy and shudder to think of the shuttlecrafts that don’t dilate eighteen inches to let out enough steam or Tex-Mex leftovers. Today we did neutrality a favour with a flick of a bitter protester in the snow and the hardcore pornography. The dreams they make are overtly shallow and dressed up with frilly bits of paper and tissue and black limestone chipped away down to the paint. All the grey masochists have their packets of tissues ready for small transactions and professional hand dryers that demand laddies with sweet gherkins and pouting watch marks. They tell me that you’ve seen more than enough of this world, that the battles are so terrifying that you can’t stand to stand up for the things anymore, even with a hoverboard pressed against your back in sexual preclusion. The dancing is beautiful and brings tears straight to the eyes like fax machines and other outdated, outmoded concepts from yesteryear and all of its huggable predecessors. The big man in orange has a list in case you need to know how many references to pack into a single monument engraving, he packs his coat with packing peanuts and concert pianists who can’t even turn their own smelly pages for their own smackhead selves. He’s back to lay claim to the encouragement according to echoes and trickles of better battlements and cunning stratagems. Have faith with movement and scatological scape-goating. You are an inspector of everything transformative and little in the fright department. Never kick the dog in case he’s a pup with ambition, unpronounceable and yet demountable. Prepare for the telling and retelling and the heels and the shills and the cetacean power potions with fruity sideburns. Concentrate the truth of revolutionary redaction and say bravo to the snake in the grass as he’s led up the devilish tower. There is work we have to do and the little boys are stating their case with respectable accountability and tiresome tirelessness. Most often we run out of petrol before we even get to this place this far out in the desert. Good afternoon, yon perfectionist, you’re Daedelus with skates on. Say death now, say death again.