sometimes its not too nice to bay all yourt money bin one keep
yeah but u cant cante it
a canter then. oh no i mean a mean.
well the means of doing it are pricy. and provacy.
do it!
oh u speak up. were listening.
go tothe free.
freedom is where money is.
no.
how no?
to grandmoher-^
well its the gift. like the beach where youre going.
wiser said not to do that which u were about to.
oh ok. guess so.
Friday, December 18, 2015
daial: the tip of thr iveberg
so in sanskrit, thema or dilation of breath
yeah uh huh
so we were sitting there, kind of set chosen
and she says
yes, i want to fuck
oh ok. they both are a bit standoffish. but full of fire. not scared.
just ready to reart.
and she stares at him blankily, staringly,
and says but over there in the other room
super
nothing to quick.
no its fine.
lazer eyes. lazer disc.
surever.
ill say hello.
and the two make love like fire.
yeah uh huh
so we were sitting there, kind of set chosen
and she says
yes, i want to fuck
oh ok. they both are a bit standoffish. but full of fire. not scared.
just ready to reart.
and she stares at him blankily, staringly,
and says but over there in the other room
super
nothing to quick.
no its fine.
lazer eyes. lazer disc.
surever.
ill say hello.
and the two make love like fire.
Sunday, December 6, 2015
writers blog (bog) more practice
over a spelling wrror, I couldnt deceive the eal of a nagoon. which is a lagoon like of black blue.
we were talking and writing about the root of paranoia.
but Neal had sealed the deranged from the courageous to hire a thief in the night.
we were in love. dire straights had told me never to beat myself with spirit again. the bannangae lay on the table food for thought.
a kind sister had called be, Wely, and deserved as much as she could succeed.
does paranoia pull oneself from oneself?
a trigger like the pullstring on a bag?
no, only the featherpen.
unless the light was too bright, oerhead.
he burped and went to the kitchen.
ales are ales. the leter l. where all things are with.
hung
there on the refrigerator like.
miracle by chance.
the city team had won the home, big, game.
and a spiel lay ahead.
where doth traffic drive?
and he went out the door.
damn.
oh, shount be say that.
the rains not alive.
but a musical air taught the patchwork in the chair crossed soft wood. datch, he thought it was called.
but was this the right book, as he walked out the door, bag in hand.
/
on the end of the street, newspaper stood in a batbox calling out the nares of the world.
cars rushed past, he was in pain.
smells of a different sort that he ever found stood in the market. what was this?
don't know. a magic piece of air. reminded hom of a song.
where had the light began to bite him around the edges of his coat. hahaha. it's just like that.
no he thought, smells of wild. smells of masdness and the sea. he would drive to the sea, saw some birds, and let go of the spiels lingering strength.
how do u bird?
adked a mailmenhatted passerby.
everyone goes birding different I suppose.
they come down from the sky, not vurds but birds. like songs, peaches of smell.
without strangling a nightmare. or burden of blame, just storms in the nose.
kind of like the market, like a nap in the unchanging.
ceaion he said.
how is that right then?
it smiles. like green. that's how I go birding. and vurding. and wording.
he writes down a name.
that's where u could go, he tells the mailman.
look within the sky.
as for your other quest, he looks happy and walks off.
the stranger, not him.
nope. (note) not this piece. jk. it was good.
we were talking and writing about the root of paranoia.
but Neal had sealed the deranged from the courageous to hire a thief in the night.
we were in love. dire straights had told me never to beat myself with spirit again. the bannangae lay on the table food for thought.
a kind sister had called be, Wely, and deserved as much as she could succeed.
does paranoia pull oneself from oneself?
a trigger like the pullstring on a bag?
no, only the featherpen.
unless the light was too bright, oerhead.
he burped and went to the kitchen.
ales are ales. the leter l. where all things are with.
hung
there on the refrigerator like.
miracle by chance.
the city team had won the home, big, game.
and a spiel lay ahead.
where doth traffic drive?
and he went out the door.
damn.
oh, shount be say that.
the rains not alive.
but a musical air taught the patchwork in the chair crossed soft wood. datch, he thought it was called.
but was this the right book, as he walked out the door, bag in hand.
/
on the end of the street, newspaper stood in a batbox calling out the nares of the world.
cars rushed past, he was in pain.
smells of a different sort that he ever found stood in the market. what was this?
don't know. a magic piece of air. reminded hom of a song.
where had the light began to bite him around the edges of his coat. hahaha. it's just like that.
no he thought, smells of wild. smells of masdness and the sea. he would drive to the sea, saw some birds, and let go of the spiels lingering strength.
how do u bird?
adked a mailmenhatted passerby.
everyone goes birding different I suppose.
they come down from the sky, not vurds but birds. like songs, peaches of smell.
without strangling a nightmare. or burden of blame, just storms in the nose.
kind of like the market, like a nap in the unchanging.
ceaion he said.
how is that right then?
it smiles. like green. that's how I go birding. and vurding. and wording.
he writes down a name.
that's where u could go, he tells the mailman.
look within the sky.
as for your other quest, he looks happy and walks off.
the stranger, not him.
nope. (note) not this piece. jk. it was good.
Monday, November 30, 2015
the akward fist. title of a lost recovered hidden diary entry of an ancestor
shh. ouch.
listen hear.
in the writing.
because it's not Uranus' anus mistooken pair of eyes.
eyelids. that's why a playbook is a reason you're recognition of the 5th sense. recognition is a 5th a sense. we're not tied here. blegh.
(this is a left diary,
found, I'm reading from)
starts, like this:
shel as a dimepiece, se Brewt fire in a hckey rheind of fruit to say christanthiums are only a kind of Nash's to advore. or advertise.
leave tea leaves when u read dhis. contd out of the lure and you've exclaimed you've got a time in your e enises hands Ruth a cough2oo yew are a genie that the melencholy is serendipity in blooms of creativeness and crash. of a water jump solash like may. was marinade. of one for thought. though,
miracles, like baklava, are June to be a plainly written twain inbetwixt. these are writing tips. Shiloh shame it's the use u never see out.
over you
unless you're reading with rainbows.
that pause there. the breath. the one 1 oo where a silent mistake is in the teeth of the moment. not chaser on a track circle. be he about to overtake the champ.
that's why I told you not to worry. don't mistake that. a fireplace in cat at cup uta caging out catching the light off the window sills is relative. but not like rain rage.
it takes a lot of love
it appears to end hear, the rest of the text
no.
a good book would do you well. stufy th
it fades
not the seasocon nor a Mohican tutus I tear without a ogi lurch. a morning Lisa is not the answer. something like that is ready to be read. but not finished.
you can see where the stains have thinned the paper here. making it kind of glow.
jump out of the playbill shirt. stir and allow your thoughts to marinate on the paws of the deer of light.
because it's not unanimous or anon to be theology of some minutes of a track meet.
close your eyelids. or don't. but that's never a trapper. it's a trough from which the horses drink.
aarishina, it's is got it down now. the letters printed that being. shh you e dovetailed into cannon so don't prove that wrong because it's worth your smile.
but I'll be -
so numbering, that's forgivenzhia. via was there. unless you play no tic tag tah alligator with the bullein that bulletined your mind and Hdeart heat of silence.
but remberembence, like drunken love. like november -
fades here
but that's how you know the writer of this was like water and ice in the time of their sorrows and joy in ringing that. I guess.
not a fake character, not a month of the moon or year that left none asking where that donkey on the Montana ride was dreamily written about.
the answer is you always had the asp. the abollity. bullshit not.
and rain, don't kosh here, is like heaven on a snowy day when he ground is dry and sojourning o heart hair. overature self. solo Jason definite miracle. like soup.
if we codify the tombetime banjo videogrAm.
in betwixt the candy bar. or licorice.
you always, I guess sir, had the map. no composition works.
and the ground is snowed and pray in holmed.
listen hear.
in the writing.
because it's not Uranus' anus mistooken pair of eyes.
eyelids. that's why a playbook is a reason you're recognition of the 5th sense. recognition is a 5th a sense. we're not tied here. blegh.
(this is a left diary,
found, I'm reading from)
starts, like this:
shel as a dimepiece, se Brewt fire in a hckey rheind of fruit to say christanthiums are only a kind of Nash's to advore. or advertise.
leave tea leaves when u read dhis. contd out of the lure and you've exclaimed you've got a time in your e enises hands Ruth a cough2oo yew are a genie that the melencholy is serendipity in blooms of creativeness and crash. of a water jump solash like may. was marinade. of one for thought. though,
miracles, like baklava, are June to be a plainly written twain inbetwixt. these are writing tips. Shiloh shame it's the use u never see out.
over you
unless you're reading with rainbows.
that pause there. the breath. the one 1 oo where a silent mistake is in the teeth of the moment. not chaser on a track circle. be he about to overtake the champ.
that's why I told you not to worry. don't mistake that. a fireplace in cat at cup uta caging out catching the light off the window sills is relative. but not like rain rage.
it takes a lot of love
it appears to end hear, the rest of the text
no.
a good book would do you well. stufy th
it fades
not the seasocon nor a Mohican tutus I tear without a ogi lurch. a morning Lisa is not the answer. something like that is ready to be read. but not finished.
you can see where the stains have thinned the paper here. making it kind of glow.
jump out of the playbill shirt. stir and allow your thoughts to marinate on the paws of the deer of light.
because it's not unanimous or anon to be theology of some minutes of a track meet.
close your eyelids. or don't. but that's never a trapper. it's a trough from which the horses drink.
aarishina, it's is got it down now. the letters printed that being. shh you e dovetailed into cannon so don't prove that wrong because it's worth your smile.
but I'll be -
so numbering, that's forgivenzhia. via was there. unless you play no tic tag tah alligator with the bullein that bulletined your mind and Hdeart heat of silence.
but remberembence, like drunken love. like november -
fades here
but that's how you know the writer of this was like water and ice in the time of their sorrows and joy in ringing that. I guess.
not a fake character, not a month of the moon or year that left none asking where that donkey on the Montana ride was dreamily written about.
the answer is you always had the asp. the abollity. bullshit not.
and rain, don't kosh here, is like heaven on a snowy day when he ground is dry and sojourning o heart hair. overature self. solo Jason definite miracle. like soup.
if we codify the tombetime banjo videogrAm.
in betwixt the candy bar. or licorice.
you always, I guess sir, had the map. no composition works.
and the ground is snowed and pray in holmed.
it's not sperate
page two (couldn't get to bottom of screen so this beginning is continued from the bottom)
skip.
learn here.
the same chitlin scrambles up to see the picture.
slow down like the river , he says to his wife.
oh. mash u.
it means tganks. H
they rake in some leaves while talking on a stim homestead. he says she's going slower.
she laughs over him.
where's the cheptehl at the end of the bay?
don't cut off the ending, say it, staying write there in the air.
no, it's too much to put a scrap at the beginning.
that's an old wivestale.
he's a ball hog, he Sayers back noticing he holding playing with the puzzle the corner of the sky hard made at the end of a snake.
ogrim. you're rapping is too cheesy to be fire. and brick.
he throws a paper into the yrah crumbling trash intO a three paoint basket.
choai Ming. winds up and throws.
see that slip of you hue. that's the matrix?
no that's Lemieuerua. IE froth. gasping.
more life than law more gase. he says in his deepest montana.
the chitlin hip Reggie laughs and its scans into the fish it really is. the same puzzleholi that makes the ending cut off Yeager to read.
then this ones a scrap?
a scrap of big grass to e newer.
moment omelet. sometimes autocorrect. damn. get more personal. not ads. cognition, renowwned, he adds. that's where the other author needs to be the reader. e reader. and more serial and chaise.
then gimme the hearing. she lets him hear, miles away. waits.
listen this puddle is dense. but not simple in that puzzles tic way.
then that's the trick u wanted to learn.
the scene changes like a comic strip. serious comment.
it's not seperate. they eat a real fake holistorm. a real one. :) that is why he said.
but boon, or treasure, is a mainstay in the wise fathers.
the wise fathers, the aft of a ship.
the slip technique was beautiful and mainstay. but nothing like the main nightbus.
that
came every Friday, shifting up,
sitting there it got to yolk its arrivals of steam of exchaust csugh** pipe)) and build on the hictogramsog of philanthrouopy of hehy anyone could travel anywhere type of attitude.
this could take you leaping. but no tricks.
chapter 2 rly gunning for imagery and jesterica
----------
this doesn't work. says yule.
that does. the reader connects the dots and he shows off his sleek anaconda felt zipper 2 no moccasin etsy pair.
she takes off her glasses and looks at the screen.
------end chapter 2 interlude (a moggery)
finish your -
reading it was, as the well from the water could confuse you or make u wise.
nederlands, that's where they sat.
kinna spooked into this trial trip of being man and wife spies, like a Bollywood version of Christmas that scared your throat into going voiceless. time for a drink of water as she sat by the golf course, teaching him to go slow when making a put.
they atraphied making the vacationer masks and wrote a status on a favebook msgreade.
it scares them like wounded wind.
you're biting the wind up. she says, wind not necessarily the spelling problem with his advent into looking up a word in a theasaurus as he sat watching her sit.
site 1, water.
in the adventure grip, the wind was more important than a stage pace.
later. they notice a passifyer monument in a srahop window glancer.
is this top? as they get to the end of a lane..
no there's more.
they turn the corner and get to circling around blocka where they started. and yearn to get on to the next day.
don't know )3 he says.
then it was a good idea?
yeah, taught me about electrixity and cities.
as u said.
the crowd laughs, but not like a horror matrix movie post appocolyptoic in stoic nightmare.
they skip the tour guide.
the next day. that at,
no she says, let's take the tour.
no man. he strikes her glint of glance. a tour we make, no guided.
non guitted then.
paces. in meditative mode.
they mediateted,
and did choogon, an Algonquian dance. no trashidy.
the trashed coat, lating there in the alley they walked past after lunch, spoke of no thing of bane.
a bit egged? she said.
as a
little chichlin (a furry cold blooded mammal) with ravbit like ear scammed past.
I can teach u about the ahadowa, he mused.
shaddows scene 2
the narrator intervenes as douautheer here to explain that u, not some reader, but sun reader you. must ask yourself when the story goes on next!
they bend a nestle candy at the holly store and stomp over to a club called jazze jesteR.
in some other world, a man reads a black text banned by aircom over by an unimportant pool.
she noticed for a moment but said nothing.
listen, I feel like I've got a squirrel song.
never mind you! she smooches with a squish face while picking a box of Chinese food.
you run slow like a river.
write that down mister! her cheeks whisper matching her eyes.
they play a favorite ivy five'll moobie, and the water they drink becomes more important to be charity to wise old ahamans walking the streets as unhomed than to drink as a firework display.
R
he reads his text message.
ohp, no scare. but a storms comming.
why did it say that? coigh, say.
oh. because he was scared. the movie was fearless itself.
then keep working. he goes to his computer.
hope, logical to keep vacationing.
this is t h e cactus of my life. she says, always saying things like that.
points at a non camp cactus, in a children's book at the library where his photograph was taken for a wordwell work luncheon.
pungent. picket. the poet, speaks through the phot
skip.
learn here.
the same chitlin scrambles up to see the picture.
slow down like the river , he says to his wife.
oh. mash u.
it means tganks. H
they rake in some leaves while talking on a stim homestead. he says she's going slower.
she laughs over him.
where's the cheptehl at the end of the bay?
don't cut off the ending, say it, staying write there in the air.
no, it's too much to put a scrap at the beginning.
that's an old wivestale.
he's a ball hog, he Sayers back noticing he holding playing with the puzzle the corner of the sky hard made at the end of a snake.
ogrim. you're rapping is too cheesy to be fire. and brick.
he throws a paper into the yrah crumbling trash intO a three paoint basket.
choai Ming. winds up and throws.
see that slip of you hue. that's the matrix?
no that's Lemieuerua. IE froth. gasping.
more life than law more gase. he says in his deepest montana.
the chitlin hip Reggie laughs and its scans into the fish it really is. the same puzzleholi that makes the ending cut off Yeager to read.
then this ones a scrap?
a scrap of big grass to e newer.
moment omelet. sometimes autocorrect. damn. get more personal. not ads. cognition, renowwned, he adds. that's where the other author needs to be the reader. e reader. and more serial and chaise.
then gimme the hearing. she lets him hear, miles away. waits.
listen this puddle is dense. but not simple in that puzzles tic way.
then that's the trick u wanted to learn.
the scene changes like a comic strip. serious comment.
it's not seperate. they eat a real fake holistorm. a real one. :) that is why he said.
but boon, or treasure, is a mainstay in the wise fathers.
the wise fathers, the aft of a ship.
the slip technique was beautiful and mainstay. but nothing like the main nightbus.
that
came every Friday, shifting up,
sitting there it got to yolk its arrivals of steam of exchaust csugh** pipe)) and build on the hictogramsog of philanthrouopy of hehy anyone could travel anywhere type of attitude.
this could take you leaping. but no tricks.
chapter 2 rly gunning for imagery and jesterica
----------
this doesn't work. says yule.
that does. the reader connects the dots and he shows off his sleek anaconda felt zipper 2 no moccasin etsy pair.
she takes off her glasses and looks at the screen.
------end chapter 2 interlude (a moggery)
finish your -
reading it was, as the well from the water could confuse you or make u wise.
nederlands, that's where they sat.
kinna spooked into this trial trip of being man and wife spies, like a Bollywood version of Christmas that scared your throat into going voiceless. time for a drink of water as she sat by the golf course, teaching him to go slow when making a put.
they atraphied making the vacationer masks and wrote a status on a favebook msgreade.
it scares them like wounded wind.
you're biting the wind up. she says, wind not necessarily the spelling problem with his advent into looking up a word in a theasaurus as he sat watching her sit.
site 1, water.
in the adventure grip, the wind was more important than a stage pace.
later. they notice a passifyer monument in a srahop window glancer.
is this top? as they get to the end of a lane..
no there's more.
they turn the corner and get to circling around blocka where they started. and yearn to get on to the next day.
don't know )3 he says.
then it was a good idea?
yeah, taught me about electrixity and cities.
as u said.
the crowd laughs, but not like a horror matrix movie post appocolyptoic in stoic nightmare.
they skip the tour guide.
the next day. that at,
no she says, let's take the tour.
no man. he strikes her glint of glance. a tour we make, no guided.
non guitted then.
paces. in meditative mode.
they mediateted,
and did choogon, an Algonquian dance. no trashidy.
the trashed coat, lating there in the alley they walked past after lunch, spoke of no thing of bane.
a bit egged? she said.
as a
little chichlin (a furry cold blooded mammal) with ravbit like ear scammed past.
I can teach u about the ahadowa, he mused.
shaddows scene 2
the narrator intervenes as douautheer here to explain that u, not some reader, but sun reader you. must ask yourself when the story goes on next!
they bend a nestle candy at the holly store and stomp over to a club called jazze jesteR.
in some other world, a man reads a black text banned by aircom over by an unimportant pool.
she noticed for a moment but said nothing.
listen, I feel like I've got a squirrel song.
never mind you! she smooches with a squish face while picking a box of Chinese food.
you run slow like a river.
write that down mister! her cheeks whisper matching her eyes.
they play a favorite ivy five'll moobie, and the water they drink becomes more important to be charity to wise old ahamans walking the streets as unhomed than to drink as a firework display.
R
he reads his text message.
ohp, no scare. but a storms comming.
why did it say that? coigh, say.
oh. because he was scared. the movie was fearless itself.
then keep working. he goes to his computer.
hope, logical to keep vacationing.
this is t h e cactus of my life. she says, always saying things like that.
points at a non camp cactus, in a children's book at the library where his photograph was taken for a wordwell work luncheon.
pungent. picket. the poet, speaks through the phot
to deprogram the instincts: part 1
thats a bye tho. said Chat, a 40's brown nosed refgulator in the stretch of yandow this work takes plot in.
his glasses on loom, the leader of the mediation scheme on rule board. himselve.
birds. those hgi's. you know. ch- chat?
This IS Not Delegated. (A note is here)
In whose whoosh. Jep, a young graduate asks chopped like.
Scene.
Ripe as fruititility.
She continues, I guess if you say a storied expression, guttittitve, is sarcasm.
Continuimng, As a hyperlink in olde.
Its written the sparse.
Pansive jeans. Like pants and clairvoyance.
He replies.
Ha i got it. She murmurs. Her name, the other beside them, is Gesture.
Love here. A colon. {]
thats why i snap this notebook.
she taps a pen aside.
The clock tastes like time. Metaiconically.
One comm. Whats a leal to a , as he slows down minching on a bit of dinner, there at the office,
Whats a gaze less serialled in silk of warm? he speaks end.
Ue- then whats the engine of instincts? If the catch cant eat it, that is.
Shh, says shogun, laughing, this is not a computer pearl of wisdom.
The sparse is then written.
Then why are u wearing a hat, at the library, murmors Gesture.
Thats -
TBC
his glasses on loom, the leader of the mediation scheme on rule board. himselve.
birds. those hgi's. you know. ch- chat?
This IS Not Delegated. (A note is here)
In whose whoosh. Jep, a young graduate asks chopped like.
Scene.
Ripe as fruititility.
She continues, I guess if you say a storied expression, guttittitve, is sarcasm.
Continuimng, As a hyperlink in olde.
Its written the sparse.
Pansive jeans. Like pants and clairvoyance.
He replies.
Ha i got it. She murmurs. Her name, the other beside them, is Gesture.
Love here. A colon. {]
thats why i snap this notebook.
she taps a pen aside.
The clock tastes like time. Metaiconically.
One comm. Whats a leal to a , as he slows down minching on a bit of dinner, there at the office,
Whats a gaze less serialled in silk of warm? he speaks end.
Ue- then whats the engine of instincts? If the catch cant eat it, that is.
Shh, says shogun, laughing, this is not a computer pearl of wisdom.
The sparse is then written.
Then why are u wearing a hat, at the library, murmors Gesture.
Thats -
TBC
giant: part 1: the sca
When,
you're in the car, you're about to notice the trees on the right side and shiela stops you.
Hows it been?
Greater then.
The car stops and the wheeldrive bomoins up.
Wherefair and the rest of the them shuffle on and step into the chpe built step onto the drive and get out the sauycers.
The sun clicks. And they meet jam at the desk.
-
THe hum. Note. You're 8 feet tall all of the sudden.
Poled to the nanometer, strapped in by yenergy chair. Of hen. The over then. She greets tyou.
"Bau'hee, Bau'hee"
Full of consciousness, you, Bauh'(r_hee) look up in suprise. Love fills you. Warmth.
Can you smell?
Yea.
I cant get you to notice though.
What?
WHere you're going?
Which, he says, knowing full of breath.
Sleep. ""
You feel the hourless through, bau'ee, and sleep.
The yule, as a heicht full of energ and condenser serving as an engine for text, is a jaunt under the dablppn shurnted shaped sky. (Thats howling) as the hum feathers. furviviviously.
"Now dont pause" says Jade.
The scanned face image of bauees fathers sit on a painting on the wall.
The tribe was lost 300 years ago.
"Its N O t Written Yet. he replies.
"No shame in his sister, chrourgh aunts, reaction, as we speak.
Its Whell! Wheel energy.: Yong.
400b years in the future 50 of them would be on Derra, like earth. The other 700 of the promogiants would be on the 34th, rather, moon where the gwen seyen.
"Im not going to ask you a map. But study this."
But study this.
The way he stormwrioteo?
2. Bauee says
"No" But yours is telling. Jork is razal to know. Eugh.
In the plastic of the datajumps in year 00a and 00b. Oobe, they sound.
TYeres never a storm or rain hewe now. There was neaths beneath of green jade feels./
The yule, as a height of energy and anersirving as an engine for text, is a jaunt under the dabloon surfed shaped sky.
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