This blog post was necessitated by the fact that over the last fortnight my twittering machine transmitted throngs of chaff that prayed to be given an alternate oblivion.
Plus I found this image, which I thought would work well to illustrate the present entry's attitude.
Throngs of chaff:
Having nothing to say right now, I'll quote Archilochos, fragment 48, translated by Guy Davenport: "Golden hair."
I can't wait for the year 2000.
Although I'm not sure about this, I have an inkling that the English words humankind and overwork possess exactly the same amount of syllables.
. . . plum . . . pant legs . . . socks . . .
It was so quiet in my apartment yestermorn that I could hear the blood pumping through my veins. (When I say blood, I mean alcohol.)
I marvel that you can run faster than thunder in those silver boots of glass.
I believe that someone is visiting their family at present. And now I dedicate these sentences to that person's automobile.
When my resurrected smoke detector quoted from the 1st Book of Samuel, "Why hast thou disquieted me, to bring me up?" (28:15), I realized how cruel it was for John, in his gospel (11:43), to have let Jesus replace the battery of Lazarus.
The trick about makeup is that you must blend it in — you can't just put a glob on the center of your face and expect people to fall in love with you.
Once upon a time, a fast-food franchise ganked my 20 spot.
I am thankful that the Global Chief Privacy Officer will soon be able to discover and purchase products without leaving Facebook.
We did not return, since to do so would have bored us.
The only problem with this New Universal Dictionary is that it has a total of 1644 pages instead of 33 less.
fresh & cool & broke & rich & warm & umbrella bird
In a local coffee shop today I was forced at knife-point to give a reading from my book X Pages of Horn-face, which is part of my big blue collection of self-amusements that can be captured in the amazon or otherwise.