Wednesday, June 27, 2018

a mish mash of mush

All of the cerebralists will get together pensively to share their thoughts. That's pretty much all they can do.

A microcosm of a tropospheric ambivalence was launched from the downgraded satellite with the intention of creating the slightest spark in the night sky above the Pacific ocean where only sea-crossing cargo ship crew would witness it. Even then, most of the crew were drunk and so they mistook the spark for a glitch in their eye.

A calisthenics teacher decided not to throw the porcupine at the horse.

Reluctance as a way to spend time on the weekend is significantly less desirable as compared to eating your third most favourite flavour of ice cream.

Reluctance as a way to spend time on the weekend is a whole lot more pleasant than being gastroenterologically impacted.

It isn't often that I get to use 21-letter words in a post.

I had trouble finding the correct word to come after the 21-letter word, and to this moment, I am not certain I chose the best one.

A rendering of a limping rainbow trout was the least promoted art piece that the promoter Doug had in his repertoire. That it fetched from an anonymous purchaser an abberantly generous price came as a surprise to Doug, but not to the artist. For the artist lived in the 'Now' while the promoter Doug spent little time in the 'Now', but rather, wallowed in the he that was, and wistfully hoped for the he that would be. Of course, neither of them gave much thought about the poor rainbow trout.

Today I turned 16,444 days old. This comes as no surprise as yesterday I turned 16,443 days old. I do not feel a day older though I do know a day has passed. It seems to me that with each day that passes, new days appear. From where they come, I haven't the faintest idea. Where do the days go once they are gone; that too bewilders me.

I counted zero virgin pie plates on my way to work this morning, though I searched high and low, left and right, even every other second. It is possible they knew I was coming and they hid. Those pie plates can be devious.

An oxymoron and a regular moron went dancing at the local club. Less imaginative punctuation marks took note of them and said little to each other. Punctuation marks do not tend to speak. Once they had danced enough, the pair got themselves a drink that they shared; mostly because as morons and oxymorons they aren't that good at deciding on things by themselves.

This brings me to the penultimate point of this post, which I will have to hold off on sharing until the next one.

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