a good bludgeoning

i do declare, things are a lot different today. hey.
right and so forth, we must go forward with disarmament if we are to be taken seriously.
so sayeth the shepherd.
so sayeth the flock.

the phone is ringing.
somebody answer the damn thing.
somebody might no answer the damn thing.

Thursday night in SF was spent doing time at the Bottom Of The Hill, hanging with the oddball boys in Anti-Pop Consortium.
They are a strange lot, quite, but are also a good deal of fun, that.
Yes yes, enjoyable they are, but so much more.
Reading the room like you knew they would (even though I didn't know) and giving the audience a show unlike few others.
Octavius opened up and they were very atmospheric, yes. I dug some, in varying degrees. they were more on the noisy end of things, with elements of hip-hop and stuff.

No more mosquitoes.

Four Tet was so good. the album is so good. i am so good. you are so good.
everyone is not so good.
but we are all good together.

Stop ringing. That thing has got to stop ringing.

This is what is called random thought syndrome.
You are sharing in the bath. Immerse yourself into tranquility.

Base. or Bass. or bass, the fish. or Lance Bass, the twit.
There are many uses for you to enjoy.
Say them loudly and proudly.

A fortnight ago, I was unsure about things.
Today, I am more unsure than before.
Lo, I know.

At the twilight's last gleaming.

Puncture me with words.
Stab me with liquid.
Flatten me with pooridge.

Do you have any more cream?

I'm not bunk, you are.
Give me more apple pie.

Eat fennel milk.

Buffer tone for you,

Bun E. Carlolita