Good things have been coming out of Deutschland and Bavaria and you can argue with a German as to whether they are the same but good vibes come in a big way with the World-Music Festival and there is other goodness in the background after not such goodness so plenty of sunshine but of the warm and pleasant kind rather than burn you into charcoal briquettes kind.
Some serendipitous goodness has come this way as well and that helped Yevette find that Sting-Ray plus do some important background things of a highly-unselfish and highly-good nature. It may be too creepy to know left-wing Socialists are actually nice to each other and it was cool for me when I said I'm happy to watch the goodness happen. I don't need to be holding anything to show it to me but thanks for the thought. Lots of warm and pleasant sunshine there as well.
Perhaps perceived as superficial but I've been blowing found reefer for about a week now and I don't take much because I don't need much. That's been a peach of a buzz and the zero-cost kind always does impart a special glow, doesn't it.
Playing the Galaxy Guitar was a most pleasant surprise and in a multi-dimensional way which isn't even that twisted to behold since much goodness comes from it in multiple ways, not the least of which is the potential to wear this twisted wedding suit. That means play one more time to verify a non-toppling guitar player and then do it for real, all dressed-up.
The plan is the second verse of the third part of "The Sanctuary Song" because the suit requires the RayBans so reading lyrics is out. Therefore, come in on the second verse and straight to some guitar wailing but no lengthy Ode to the Wraiths of the Blue Mist. Relatively short and out.
If there's fuel for it then possibly keep the cameras rolling and maybe something of a different nature. Need one more time to push it out and get some sea legs.
These sites which have been such an immense nuisance taking so long to heal are really getting on with it. They're clearly making observable process and that's some exceptional sunshine after some tormenting misery. It's not the killin' achey kind but the I am so fucking tired of this shit kind (larfs).
But then it finally turns, thinking, well, we prob'ly screwed with him enough.
My body tolerates more and more food and this is news when I couldn't get much of anything into myself. There's still no clear explanation for cause but cessation of symptoms is a whole lot of sunshine anyway. There's still noisy hacking but it's far less productive. It comes back to some level of control and still mystifying what triggers it / stops it.
Meanwhile, "The Gripping Hand" has a great grip but I'm halfway through it so the grip won't go so much longer. I found "Triumph" by Phillip Wylie and it's about a filthy rich mucky muck of the sixties bomb shelter era. He was so fabulously super rich he could afford the best bomb shelter money could possibly buy and it had all the most sophisticated protections against any infiltration by radiation plus it could almost withstand a direct hit.
Add to the shelter a bizarre array of the loons a super rich person may do and stick them down there for an extended time after an actual attack has happened. What do you suppose comes of them.
I read it some time in late sixties / seventies and that scenario may even be more apt today what with all the bold thoughts about surviving a nuclear war. After all, we have seen in movies the Earth survived being bombarded by space aliens, being hit an meteorite of near Earth-killer size, and all manner of other cataclysmic insults so what's the problem with one little nuclear war.
Maybe you're right. Let's get Quentin Tarantino to film it.
In case it sounded prickish about it being a bad idea to see this, I've no idea of what you last saw of me but this couldn't possibly by the same and I doubt it does either of us any good to entertain that moment of holy hell, you look like shit. I would just as soon skip that and I imagine you would as well. If it's important for some reason then stop on down as I won't turn anyone away but I'll be hoping you understand this is not a time for cheerleader stuff as I do a lot of it already but you don't hear it. Likely if not for doing it, you wouldn't hear anything. It's not that I would be croaked but I wouldn't be bothered.
Even if nothing else, this is an instant weather check as one look at the last article or Twitter time verifies, nope, he's not croaked yet. Even if you think what I write is completely worthless blather, that time check is relatively painless. Likely many do think it's blather and those who take that perception possibly imagine an aluminum hat with some type of antenna. Such people rarely consider how I envision them. Visualize Ronald McDonald and I think it's because of the huge yellow shoes.
The election will be decided by Ronald McDonald and that brings the most sunshine of all.
Some serendipitous goodness has come this way as well and that helped Yevette find that Sting-Ray plus do some important background things of a highly-unselfish and highly-good nature. It may be too creepy to know left-wing Socialists are actually nice to each other and it was cool for me when I said I'm happy to watch the goodness happen. I don't need to be holding anything to show it to me but thanks for the thought. Lots of warm and pleasant sunshine there as well.
Perhaps perceived as superficial but I've been blowing found reefer for about a week now and I don't take much because I don't need much. That's been a peach of a buzz and the zero-cost kind always does impart a special glow, doesn't it.
Playing the Galaxy Guitar was a most pleasant surprise and in a multi-dimensional way which isn't even that twisted to behold since much goodness comes from it in multiple ways, not the least of which is the potential to wear this twisted wedding suit. That means play one more time to verify a non-toppling guitar player and then do it for real, all dressed-up.
The plan is the second verse of the third part of "The Sanctuary Song" because the suit requires the RayBans so reading lyrics is out. Therefore, come in on the second verse and straight to some guitar wailing but no lengthy Ode to the Wraiths of the Blue Mist. Relatively short and out.
If there's fuel for it then possibly keep the cameras rolling and maybe something of a different nature. Need one more time to push it out and get some sea legs.
These sites which have been such an immense nuisance taking so long to heal are really getting on with it. They're clearly making observable process and that's some exceptional sunshine after some tormenting misery. It's not the killin' achey kind but the I am so fucking tired of this shit kind (larfs).
But then it finally turns, thinking, well, we prob'ly screwed with him enough.
My body tolerates more and more food and this is news when I couldn't get much of anything into myself. There's still no clear explanation for cause but cessation of symptoms is a whole lot of sunshine anyway. There's still noisy hacking but it's far less productive. It comes back to some level of control and still mystifying what triggers it / stops it.
Meanwhile, "The Gripping Hand" has a great grip but I'm halfway through it so the grip won't go so much longer. I found "Triumph" by Phillip Wylie and it's about a filthy rich mucky muck of the sixties bomb shelter era. He was so fabulously super rich he could afford the best bomb shelter money could possibly buy and it had all the most sophisticated protections against any infiltration by radiation plus it could almost withstand a direct hit.
Add to the shelter a bizarre array of the loons a super rich person may do and stick them down there for an extended time after an actual attack has happened. What do you suppose comes of them.
I read it some time in late sixties / seventies and that scenario may even be more apt today what with all the bold thoughts about surviving a nuclear war. After all, we have seen in movies the Earth survived being bombarded by space aliens, being hit an meteorite of near Earth-killer size, and all manner of other cataclysmic insults so what's the problem with one little nuclear war.
Maybe you're right. Let's get Quentin Tarantino to film it.
In case it sounded prickish about it being a bad idea to see this, I've no idea of what you last saw of me but this couldn't possibly by the same and I doubt it does either of us any good to entertain that moment of holy hell, you look like shit. I would just as soon skip that and I imagine you would as well. If it's important for some reason then stop on down as I won't turn anyone away but I'll be hoping you understand this is not a time for cheerleader stuff as I do a lot of it already but you don't hear it. Likely if not for doing it, you wouldn't hear anything. It's not that I would be croaked but I wouldn't be bothered.
Even if nothing else, this is an instant weather check as one look at the last article or Twitter time verifies, nope, he's not croaked yet. Even if you think what I write is completely worthless blather, that time check is relatively painless. Likely many do think it's blather and those who take that perception possibly imagine an aluminum hat with some type of antenna. Such people rarely consider how I envision them. Visualize Ronald McDonald and I think it's because of the huge yellow shoes.
The election will be decided by Ronald McDonald and that brings the most sunshine of all.
No comments:
Post a Comment