intelligentsia redolent with afterburn air fresheners and you thought yeah exeter's indecision is one of many that klambers kwickly through everlasting pies of seven up and cherry cheese cake and who knew that's what he wanted what i wanted what she wanted what they wanted. and we. shall i ever break free of licorice cellars and phospholipids? my membranes might be somewhat annoyed ne t'inqui�te pas, ma biche tout ira bien of all the capital [magiscule?> weren't you intra quid quid dict um and you knew didn't you of all the pizza squirrels swirling around your intrinsically entered head of all the spite of dead weasels who don't get sucked into jet engines whereas others might if things don't go according to plan and whose plan right into red blue red shaves without cuts or lemons or clotting factors and your recessive hemophilia is getting me down are you even listening to all i have to say in worlds of water where the solvent becomes the solute and vice becomes? yeah right i'm sure you did you bastard �spece de salopard re entry of the lost knights of trained welfare sages to whom those of which we never (usually) spoke sometimes (often or never) went into forests of pristine green but lacking verdant splendor which was only to be found in the dark souls but we won't worry about that. not anymore. and what, you say? they don't know now and they didn't know then but maybe they will and maybe they won't and i tire of your endless conjunctions <je d�teste vos conjonctions et qui �tait l'autre?> who will be ready when the time comes for those who have been ready to stop being ready and make room for the unready don't forget what i told you then alabaster in couches of gold krypton is not kryptonite kryptonite would probably be very difficult to create in any kind of stable form KrO3 perhaps maybe KrO4 one less than kryptonate en tout cas who needs vesicles? greek mythology? give me janus any day of the week you two faced twister of all that is passing through my entrails � ce moment-l� n'avez pas peur de votre derni�re figure entrails intrails outtrails new trails lost trails trails begins to lose its meaning when written too many times in succession of kings and queen and shoguns and the samurai is a class but brahmins are a caste and why doesn't arjuna ever stop whining just kill the poor slobs and perhaps some day we'll find nirvana and maybe the king of illiterature will be there too if you have to ask...

Diaryland