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Archive for September 2018

30.September.18

I, Jack, was giving a rodomantade about the most endearing characteristics of lanterns when a pumpkin crossed my path. The interloper was given a situation on which to chew: bite me oppositely, in other words: me bite. Perhaps, pump’s kin would have lived to a riper age had it not been so Gadarene in its pursue to chew before it knew what such word meant. Now, before empathy is given to the gored gourd, remember that after I, Jack, am lit, enthalpy may reach the degree at which both I and witch melt, leaving hollow, *possibly* haloed souls, I ween. ; )

29.September.18

Our six legs made it to this summit place. If slothfulness and stagnation are vices that held us back from this view, I am glad we found the energy and motivation to exorcise ourselves from that state of energumen.

Thanks for staying so patient with me. I appreciate that your tail wags in my company regardless of whether I am at my best or, instead, engaging in more nocuous shenanigans; right and wrong are not always so black and white, very grey friend.

What I find amazing about this view, furry one with pointed auditory receivers, is that even though the air here is dead silent, my ears hear a diapason matching the majesty of what feels like a heavenly perspective. Are you sensing the same?

Well, I certainly was not expecting these latchets to hold up all the way here; I knew this wear would be cooler, but I could still hear mum in my head, inquiring why I did not opt for boots instead. How are your paws, Woofers? Splendid. Let us enjoy this pause a while longer and, then, return to journeying forward. ; )

28.September.18

Both living and working downtown allows for a walkative life, one which allows for easy exercise and no car expenses. But, when the fiancé about city finds more items for her trousseau than can be carried in a couple manageable bags, a call for help is received. The evening’s sporting event means sparking fireworks, which means earplugs to fight phonophobia, which means crossed fingers that the taxi called has a sign illuminated since arrival honks may be missed. Having rescued the princess and nestled in the backseat, the reply is “Applesauce!” when sig-o implies kiss did not notice new lip gloss. Truth is pineapple-tangerine-marshmallow-cherry-ambrosia *was* noticed; mind was just set on enjoying a talkative wife while in company of a driver guest, with trip safely pulling up to house the sign of soon-to-be fruitful love at its best. ; )

27.September.18

“What encounter awaits on the next page?” mind-queried Alice to herself. “If it is needles of Tweedles or gawk of the Jabberwock, certainly I will need some sisu in heart before I the next chapter start.”

“Kings may merit most to obey when their orotund proclamations drive the stalwart to please, but,” determined Alice, “attention must be given to all voices, even the mews, the ahems, and the suppressed sneeze.”

“Oft it feels as though the pieces placed in my path are a bit unsensical and purposefuless.” mused Alice before furthering, “I would like to try being my own scop so that I can wing a sing around trouble’s ting, relieving life’s hard for a lucky card due to self’s bard.”

“What does my mirror me think when it looks the other way through the glass?” reflected Alice. “It copies what I do, but it seems to be out of fond curiosity rather than gnathonic means. So, when backs are turned, are lives alike or does one clean while the other queens?”

Alice wondered, “Maybe, for each me, the other me just justifies the dreams.” ; )

26.September.18

Board’s inspired message no longer relays lorem ipsum, but, rather, now, ‘Carpe Diem’, so words shall be obeyed by meeting with wave number two at half past three.

Halibut met on way inquired regarding habiliment, “That wetsuit suits you well, but if you fall sans snorkel and flips into swell, how will you return home to tell?”

Sun’s layer cake plays the final scene of an epic passed; experienced outside a theatre, awe leads not to anarthria, but a mind so focused on living a tale, there is no time for telling one.

Let the blellums recount shadowed stories under bulbed lights in dank rooms. Scenes worth relaying pass by daily. May loafers enjoy waving to them so that livers may enjoy riding them. ; )

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