serendipity and the lint

The rest of them, heh, they didn't know what year it was.

It took them forever to figure out that the left shoe goes on the left foot and the right shoe, well, you know where it goes.

A pin dropping from the left hand to the marble floor only made a sound to the person whose head was just above the floor next to where the pin dropped. To everyone else, they looked askance at the image of a person lying down on the floor with raised head as another person standing nearby drops a pin.

That a pair of sentences would be composed only so that the use of the word 'askance' could be used, and even then, inaccurately, would serve no real purpose. I should know.

Not all of the people named Bartholomew had the nickname 'Mew'.

The sleeping agent cried out foul, wanting to continue sleeping, when awoken by her pet cat, who meowed longingly for a play-date with the neighbour's garden gnome. The gnome didn't utter a sound, knowing that the agent prefers sleeping under all but the most exceptional circumstances.

I can tell by the shininess of the keys on my keyboard at work that the keys F2 and F4 seem to get used with significant regularity as compared to the other F-keys which all have a layer of dust upon them. Well, upon further examination, F5 does seem to bear somewhat less dust then the other unused ones. I know that F2 in MS Excel allows me to enter a cell to edit its contents, and Alt-F4 allows me to close applications. I am less certain why F5 shows as being used; in both MS Word and Excel the F5 is used for 'Go To' or 'Search', but usually I use Ctrl-F or Ctrl-H.

My suspicion about beep was correct. Let's count twice about the chances of in the middle and all of the rest. Only time will tell, as it always does.

bip jip kip lip hip gip fip tip

If all of the three letter words were to go on strike, complaining of the treatment they get in Boggle scores, the title of this post would no longer exist.

If the title of this post no longer existed, I would question the existence of the post itself.

Jody Wilson-Raybould, SNC Lavalin and PM Trudeau, what a mess of a situation.

In a nutshell, SNC Lavalin corrupt in Libya and CHUM among other projects. News article mentions that Justice Minister JWR is 'pressured' by the PMO to do a remediation agreement with SNC Lavalin. Then JWR is shuffled to Vet Affairs, allegations fly, JWR resigns from cabinet, Trudeau is grilled, SNC Lavalin continues to lobby, investigations begin.

A wrist watch compendium went bowling under the microscope used by a witch doctor that hadn't cut his toenails in the previous week. Not all of the posturing will lead to a solution that merits publication. Not all of the solutions that are public would posture a merit. Not all of the merits would publish a solution that postures.

Walking up the hill, dancing down the slope, skiing in the pond, mucking about, leaching from the host, reaching for the top, slouching to the sofa and wretching to the bottom. Ringing like the bell, singing into a shell, longing for a song, lingering for a subordinate, inordinate, coordinate, suffocate.

Poof, a leak-worm needs that flight baster, the kite taster and the light faker. I've got, in order of appearance, meek, beep, tri and aqua. I think I now have a fifth to add but I haven't a proper handle yet.

Multiplicity as a solution to singularity castigated the divider from the denominator. A soliloquy donned a sonnet and hung a haiku. A bumblebee saw a comet and stung a redo.

Not everyone could give directions to their own left ear lobe. Elsewhom's left earlobe, on the other hand, was on the other hand.

Success as a laundry detergent is not the clearest idea that a person who is almost as generic as a person could use as a shelf lighter or a barge engine. I should know.

Take all of the emptiness that finds its way in your most immediate surroundings and vaporize it with just a sideways glance. That's all it takes. Now, in the void, deposit all of your extra words, ideas, thoughts, songs, music and smells. Tactility can be overrated, unless it isn't.

Depending on how you view that thing that should be viewed, take two steps forwards and don't look back.

when three times eleven is myopic

The big question is if beep and I will get closer now that I am switching out of departments.

A wholesome attitude isn't what the butcher offered the cantankerous woman who insisted on cuts measured down to the picometre.

Extremism as a solution to boredom isn't the best path to follow, I should know.

How Amu manages to get the funds for all of their updates is beyond me; still, I'm enjoying their episodes.

There is more I can say about J but I'm not one to spread rumours or speak ill of people.

There was the potential for us to go out together as a group for lunch today to acknowledge my time that was spent in this department, this, a few days after I ballooned beep's desk. I admitted I am more comfortable doing good deeds for others than to be on the receiving end. In all honesty, I can not recall the last time someone has done something specifically for me as a good deed. In any case, the lunch didn't happen. This comes as no surprise to me.

Monday, in my new department, we already have scheduled a department lunch to welcome me in. This is likely to be better attended.

If my strength is with the written word and beep's strength is still to be established, but is clearly not the written word, perhaps I should put aside any specificities.

Lacking any guarantees, listening to the pin drop; counting the chickens before they hatch and all other of the ferrings that fell of the starboard side; well, cast them twice without remembering why. Rinse, repeat. With equanimity I can say the inequality is rising ever higher. Is it conceivable that a revolution could take place? In this day and age? Time will tell, but I am become less certain that it can't happen. After writing the previous sentence I read an article and found that four things have historically corrected inequality: war, disease, state collapse and revolution. Not any of these sound particularly friendly to common folk, but I guess that's the point - make things bad for everyone.

Then there is the FIRE solution that I have been reading quite a bit about recently. If only I can get my own situation settled; hopefully this will happen soon.

Good luck!

when fight or flight chase you out of town

A rocket scientist played Hearts, throwing the Queen aside each time. The vilified kept it, swarthing away; into a new kraken that wrenches the beep away.

The underside of equilibrium isn't made of French Toast, but I'll only find out after numerous partial days.

Like all floodwaters, the wishes and dreams wash away only to be replaced by iguanas and other reptiles.

Take three steps forward only to find that the middle two didn't count.

twice the three time winner paid off the elven

A rickety rickshaw was used to plagiarize a copy of a duplicate of an unoriginal.

A cloud cover dare devil planted lilacs in the anteroom of the gardener's velvet covered armchair.

Nine nickels weren't enough to draw circles around the ionosphere of a spheroid the shape of an ox.

That predawn exercise, as a form of lint removal from laundry drying machines, is used as an envelope to wrap up misaddressed post-cards, comes as no surprise to the people who are very difficult to surprise. It says something about their ability to surmise.

A quintessential exception was used as an example to show how not to perform certain acts that require the use of left-brain creativity and right-brain boredom. I should know.

Following a follower who is following a follower means there is quite a separation between knowing where one may be going, and knowing how many handkerchiefs to bring. To have brought no less than a number that is between orange and sideways would be just about the least anxiety driven thing that an extinct mastodon could do.

I sometimes think of both meekness and beep at the same time; ah, curses and time afloat, like the busy-ness that a fledgling idea could waste away. Aqua-Fresh could be a diversion; so could that middle of tri-generational that still has no nickname. There'd be less or more of the most or now; like a vivid idea vague in interpretation; twice doubled and thrice tripled, halved and quartered but not nickel or dimed. There'd be a reckoning, but only on the middle day between twix and florp.

when all of the children count the oxen

Being mesmerized by the beep serves no purpose apart from reminding myself that lost opportunities of the past are truly lost.

Future possibilities are only probabilities and can be safely ignored in the immediate.

The immediate contains no opportunities, but that can be put asunder once the tassels have been tossed aside.

Still, even with the opportunities, once they arrive, it will continue to serve no purpose to be mesmerized by the beep.

Mind you, corroborative scintillation could be shared with the tri-generational, reducing weakness and moving away from ambivalence.

There is a need to stop the leaks; this will be addressed as the uniform creases are pressed.

like a brocoli without the calisthenics

Twice the mystery; less a lesson, more like a moment. What's the nickname I would use?

Float the boat, make it happen, not yesterday or tomorrow.

There is only now.

A destitute on the street, still can moment to moment learn about self and else. Or not.

Enlightenment is more like a cucumber than it is a runt.

Then the topics veered, addiction vs habit, eclectic grouping vs homogeneity.

I played receiver pretty much throughout. Successfully fought the urge to place my own questions ahead of listening; merely prodded instead of pushed.

Still not sure of the nickname; will have to think about it. Beep and meekness were easier to decide upon.

When an ice cream cone smells of fruit gills

Witch craft, unlike aircraft, performs craft work to show craftiness.

I dream of beep but will never own it. I sleep of twice the symbol; barking like a deranged lamp post. Marveling at the DC; that's how errant the type would shake it. There aren't two, when three of twice the spread; like rampant disingenuous fly paper modules. It is only the plague that wrecks me so. Time will will provide solutions that one can wrestle with diminishing vigor.

The choice is cheese. The voice is fleece. The slice is diced and the pocket is rocketed. There isn't enough elbow room for all of the elbows. There aren't enough shins to be kicked. There is little angst among the Mastodon follicles. When the livid divide their energy, squalid entropic puddles of emotional mush get toasted and then vaporized. The troposphere receives this punishing mixture easily, like a doughnut hole racing towards a broken incandescent light fixture.

Exposure isn't what the leaders intended. Sidelined by the vision, corrupted by the mindset, evasive by the wayward; these are the soul truths to be discarded. Let the meritocracy decide.

rip the kip out of the lip

So what?

Am I not allowed to be curious?

Morning nosey-ness is not welcome, apparently. The bringer of beeps, like a maple tree in a winter morning; serendipity is not the fruit that lingers, welcoming it again and again seems to serve no purpose.

Mental calisthenics, severity like a dew fall, crank the rank that sank, as a wrist slapped.

Limitless.

Sometimes I swathe in the internalized ignominy, balanced on the precipice of choosing between future stealth voyages or local amicability.

I drain of this; spilling out into the ether. A sop up was due and received earlier this week. Who knows when the next sop up is scheduled?

crouching among the dandelions, painting eggs orange

With eighteen years difference, between the first, the least, the most, the highest and the lowest, a crouching rhododendron plays havoc with the minds of the semi-elite. That stations, be they fraught or bitten, would mollify even the Europeans, would take the place of asunder the leftists. That the bringer of beeps reminds me of the meek is only by chance viewable in the rear view. Plague me twice? Or dough nuts as a gift of Kit Kat fingers shared.