sordid thoughts of galoshes
the muck beneath your feet, the goo between your toes and the silt found in your ears.
All the tasty pleasures, mmmm mmmm
Why can't nitrogen be converted to energy to solve our world's energy problems?
Mexico is further south even then something that is more north than it is.
I am absolutely and completely terrified by almost nothing.
The problem is, I encounter almost nothing rather rarely... I encounter varying degrees of nothing regularly, but almost never almost nothing.
Snakes, spiders, heights, crowds, geese, snow, thunder, aliens, bees, work, effort, intangible thoughts... you name it, it isn't made of cheese.
Soup isn't what you think it isn't. However, a couch is exactly what you think it is, unless it is a chair.
The strangest thing happened to me yesterday, but since today is tomorrow's yesterday, it may have happened today, unless it happened in yesterday's tomorrow.
If I didn't know any better, I would know worse, or, as compared to someone who knows more than me, I would know less, and as compared to someone who knows less than me, I would know more. More about what, I don't know, but more about when, why, who or how, maybe. Or maybe not. Not knot, though, simply not.
One of things that is even more scarce than something rare, is something near extinction, or something lost. Something lost, if found, is no longer lost, but could be described as having been both lost and now found, and as such, may still be lost and found.
Spaghetti is often spelled incorrectly, though how someone interprets the word 'incorrectly' to mean spaghetti, I can not fathom. Mind you, if you have many fathoms of spaghetti, perhaps you have the right (write?) to spell it incorrectly.
If you've read this far, you'll notice that this post has absolutely nothing to do with galoshes. In fact, even if you haven't read this far I will fully admit that this post has nothing to do with galoshes, but you won't know that because you didn't read this far.
4 comments:
It was the title that got my attention.
I really, really, did want to read about sordid thoughts on galoshes.
I slogged through it...without my golashes.
I read from the end to the beginning, and it made perfect sense. But then I read it from beginning to end, and it made imperfect nonsense.
And imperfect nonsense is equal to perfect sense, so the same can be said for the different.
Seems to me that the entire post was about galoshes after all.
If you were wearing galoshes when you wrote it, or if I wore galoshes when I read it - then I think it's a galoshtastic post!
Like the fool I am, I read the entire thing. Spagette and all.
Post a Comment