835,200. Are you also madly in love with Anne of Cleves?

beingscasa. Perhaps, in the beginning for those who god, would a stay really be that strange or odd, if you and I existed but not as war, and in the end we left It quite as before.

ibitboting. As Man covered and filled the earth, He damned the wasteful ways of water. As Man found ever more things to slaughter, He counted and cried over his net worth.

i wrote poetry as in i try at poem bitbot32. Some dare to write God, good as dead. Others, deemed wiser, shoot what's said. You see, everyone here coughs up blood. Conditions far worst than the long flood. Quick masters designed a new church. Experts who've done all the research. Also, ones who convince with the gun. Liberty for those who know their sun. God thankfully gave them the strength. To keep the lazy at arms length. It was they who secured the next act. Leaving God's formula mostly intact. They will build the smarter planet. A perfect mix of concrete and granite. With just the right amount of trees and grass. It'll kick any other planet's dumbass.

gbitbot. There once was a god of the few. Who knew only what they knew. Then there was god to the many. Who became as common as the penny. But wait - we still want to believe! We still want treasure when we leave! Fear not - these dark days of grief and doubt. They are merely Shadows to be fleshed out. To think - this is only a (quiet) beginning. Here we are with earth - thankful and grinning.

cbitcbot. The silence here is god awful. More so because it's lawful. To take from such a quiet day. What time could only say.

tirbitbot. Where there once was quiet and thoughtful lands, came concrete, hard and swift, and machine for hands. Trapped now between coded fingerprint shores, and colder walls proclaiming exclusive floors, here now is an unheard of boredom, divided and polluted beyond repair. My friends, don't forget your smile, it's what earns your right for water and air. Sure, endless cycles of worms avoiding fat and fatter birds, launches you for twenty seconds only to hear your own words. But by then, those chronic snapshot wars that stirred you fade away. And, besides, your not going to stand in the way of God and Country today. Maybe, some other time, when you're less tired, and not in this rat race. So you buy the next distraction, hopefully, to take you far from this capital place.

432ios. There was something disturbing the way this small girl in her art class would draw only large grandfatherly eyes - with a sharp edge, she would begin to describe the world, her small world within those dark eyes, until at last nothing recognizable as grandfatherly eyes were left. Asked the usual question, she shook her head, to then add, Why must we live this way? In a long empty yellow hall, she stopped her roll, where she hung her heavy head, upon a tiny upright fist. Two days later she was dead. Here, where arrows fall. Here, where rubberbands break on the small.

blah7658. On the day of rest, as God tried to rationalize creating only a good world, God once again found solitude refreshing to the spirit. Meanwhile, not too far away, all the animals and plants in that recently created world joined together upon a crowded spot, they called: First Hill. Almost immediately, a man interrupted a platypus, a gentle old platypus named Tuck, who had begun the meeting with a cheerful song. After the boos and hisses that followed, Tuck was allowed to finish his short delightful song. The sharks thought it so clever they clapped; as did the rabbits and mice. Not long afterwards, a small disagreement broke out over what one does - if anything - with a hat. An odd hare thought it looked grand on hamster; but some cows wondered if the hat wouldn't better serve as a spit pail. That got the hens all worked up - each taking multiple sides just for the sake of continuing the disagreement. The sharks made bets. The trees took the hat up and were soon overjoyed at the prospect of something else providing shade for them for a change. But then the man took it upon himself to shout everyone down. He told everyone they were missing the logic of the hat - and the animals and plants gave a sort of look to each other, and soon, the first meeting drew to a quick, unfortunate close. From time to time, if one ever cares to listen closely, it's customary for the birds to remind us what we almost took away from them all.

thx4231ron. Without Earth, there is no Being, because there's no openness of the human mind to dwell, to disclose, and to thank. Without Earth, we're mired in the single pursuit, that smarter planet that compels us to do only what profits produce. Without Earth, there is a separating of the society. And without Earth, communities will not and cannot long endure. If we ever forget to foster disclosive freedom, then we will be one nation under God gone under.

re23fe. This nurse beat the shit out of me; and months later, I got a chance to ask why - she turned silently to me and said, Boobs are for babies. That life lesson, folks, was a bitter, costly pill; though, I kinda liked her more for it.

ter1.2something. If the same men who chatter endlessly about the noble Christ were to instead advance a noble silence - well, we'd actually sense a matured God's greatest sacrifice (without need of the scripture).

pis43. As I do every morning, I stepped out from my back porch and began my daily exercise of baiting my body to some already pissed off crocodiles. It keeps me sharp to say the least. Only, that one morning, this early jogger distracted me by asking me for the time, and needless to say, some eighteen months later, and countless therapy sessions afterwards, I finally was able to say, I do, to him. It was cosmic if nothing else. The moral of the story is: don't leave the stick you hit the crocodiles with at tripping distance right beside your jello-like legs.

this23. Modern Horizons. Little one, little girl by the big river. Little one, little boy by the big river. Little ones hanging by velvet threads. Sway in soft breezes, full of spring meds. But yonder thunders, closing in fast. Back in my jar, back in my past. Turn the lid screwed on tight, under lock, every flock, every night.

1qw. The other day I awoke to a thundering clatter - a great insight had my little world flipped upside down. The mountain view I once had - now gone. Why, attaching the wholesome word clean to that awesome world of coal - pure genius. I mean, that's why naturally, the world envies little old Kentucky and not say, oh, I don't know, this place called anywhere else. Look how rich, empowered, employed those busy coal bees are. Growth industries like coal inspire everyone; look at all those bankers' sons and daughters racing to join the clean coal industry of the future. Truly the envy of every silicon valley.

12points. After the trees were removed, and the ants were covered in a gray stew, and the old river was fixed with heavier elements - a gleaming steady flow of green products rolled out the back doors - quickly on to trucks to a mall - miles away from you. Sure, the tax incentives closed schools, and the tax burden fell on the many without, and no one swims at the beaches who's younger than fifty - but, you know, liberty is in our constitution, as is days-old rabbit food. Where my pills at? Here, have another tall glass of water. Phew.

qwerty23. When we scold even squirrels for losing their acorns - you know we've got a land problem mistaken as a rodent issue.

54andhalf. The last thing we could ever believe in is the tortoise - but, hell, it was a pleasant yarn when nothing else was on.

red82. Hold your breath, and stand witness to God's undeniable wisdom. Seed that never commit to more than one season - check. Inbred litters ripped apart before seeing even the sun - check. Unchecked masters who breed the all exclusive future - check. Sweet lands made into gray seas for more make believe greens - check. Infinite confidence in advanced filters - check. Infinite belief this is God's wisdom - check, bang-bang, double check.

blue7. From time to time, we shuffle our feet, in the pews of liberty. Bow our heads, let us pray. A sudden crooked glance, not as hidden as we pretend it to be, a quick peek across the pews to our neighbors and our teeth begin to grind to a different beat. We somehow snap back, but look up, and stare at the splendid cup, and - sigh. We quickly remember that's not right, and so we abuse and pity ourselves at the same time. When the A-men is finally read, we discover our attention - and everything attention brings out - back upon our wicked neighbors, and a moment later, we add stiffly our A-men, if only grudgingly.

0.002. Well Beautiful Day. As a man of thirty, he cleared his throat. Instantly heard by desert meat, they swarmed to the mouth they believed a cup. A thousand lips or more sealed upon this hot well, what else could they ever want. On their knees they fell, and soon enough, everyone was clearing their tight throat. Everyone hacking dry sand from their shallow red throat.

16.95dis. Word to the wise, never invite Mother Nature to a party showing one of those criminal investigation shows. Every five seconds with, And what's the big deal? She ate all our popcorn, too, without apology. And she double dipped with classless immunity. We finally had to shove her out and lock the house door. She finally got the hint that we didn't exactly like her. We found someone else that is much cooler to hang out with. It takes a while to power-on, but he'll say his name eventually. It's cool, just wait.

16.392. One day, three men found themselves shipwrecked on an island. The woman of the island graciously shared her big bowl dinner and the three men were saved. Later, on another day, more men and some women were shipwrecked on the very same island with the one woman, the three men, and their six consequential daughters. Now was it wrong that none of the originals came out to share like before; and was it wrong that those desperate recently shipwrecked souls drew first blood? Dental records showed everyone had clean teeth.

16.3812. Behold, junk! Landfills full of everything imaginable, we accept as a consequence of our wonderfully advanced stage of human civilization; but why can't we also accept as a consequence of our wonderfully advanced stage of human civilization that everyone has shelter, food, and clean water - well, it's a sort of joke, like our managed rivers, forests, and mountain ranges. Like smarter choices, new freedoms, and full hands. Like our aging calendars. What a hoot, right boys and girls.

16.381. Aw, seriously. How is it still possible to take seriously a man who breeds like a farmer, but expects the Bell of Liberty to shake the earth like his forefathers? Or the Tree of Liberty to not be cut down for last warmth? Nothing makes Lady Liberty more vulnerable for destruction than more mouths to feed - look how worn out, ugly, and nihilistic she's become. These men aren't even embarrassed; in fact, they're proud of what they've done - and they talk endlessly now about how everyone has to make tuff decisions and hard sacrifices. Oh, wonderful work, and we applaud their little crowd, their ridiculous show, and all the while we cling to the belief that more concrete produces the best oxygen to get more things done. Hooray.

16.377s. Look up to see the plane; look down to see the tile; look all around to see a handbag's horizon. Even cookies make us bleed.

16.372. Today we believe in rights to basements, to networks, and, continuing a long tradition, to guns and alcohol. How romantic, and, indeed, more cartoons featuring pills to take can only make us stronger. But really, we have many colorful cities to build, more peers to flee away to.

16.34bst. Who is this that celebrates coaxing seeds to the devil after harvest? How can we look our children in the eyes? This might be our grandest sacrifice.

16.32ae. When so few have so much, can there really be a debate on sacrifice.

16.31. No matter if you were something still, a solitude walker among those ancient oaks, a climber who loved depths as much as rare views - no, no matter if you cherished the wild tongue to the cool brook - ah, look, look now - the quiet deer is down, no different than the ants now; as with those once mighty oaks, the roar of another mountain falls - and all around you, all around you still, are countless stiff shoulders that give you more than the chills.

16.3aes. Naturally, with every new shipwrecked generation, a little more quiet land is ripped apart; already crowded shores erode further; and the seas are trashed. This tile thing is working out well. Naturally, there can be no time for rest - not when Sputnik fantasies swirl around us like fireflies - we're all spinning our wheels - and everywhere the disease of convenience walls us within and without.

778f. For the rest, we learn quickly where to stand and what to say and how to say it. For the rest, we wear crowns of silence; and we never back down. There is great still work to do.

777pf. Ah, more words - just in time, too. More shaming. How - yawn - orginal. More artificial shadows. More walls. More of the same. I know, tomorrow will be different somehow. I know, the power and tools of tomorrow - what won't our experts solve. More of the same, no doubt. Only, with fewer shores, searching for something that perhaps could be mistaken as bread crumbs. Forty centuries of colder shores. We were told to stay here. We were told to wait for tomorrow like dogs. Pat silence on the head; good day.

5andfivethousand. Here we have a persistent cold war. A surplus of words that crown every human being as unique; you're one of many of God's beautiful creations; full of potential; above the lion, the oak, and even the elephant. Yeah. So, naturally, when amazing, glorious, divinely touched humans compromise to form a people, a state, and even a government at this supposed late stage of human development - we leave a great many homeless, penniless, landless, undereducated - and what is there to add to those starving - more empty words, more perfect unions, more exclusions, more empty hands. Ha. Nevermind there are no shortages of exclusive shores; of unique long tables, of unique high chairs - where one hears endless chatter of God - and where are the scraps to collect to get by - no. No. Unique, divine creations don't live for scraps, no. This is about human decency. This is about a love so natural, so intimately linked to existence, it is like the blood that flows through our veins. This is about sharing and experiencing divine beauty on this - the most unique stage ever. This is about the privilege to even think - to even think - about communing with God - especially in light of how we commune with our fellow unique images of God. How dare we even think we are being heard. We have forty centuries of degradation - we should never face God.

-HQ. Oh, unfortunate, miserable child! You have the most evil brushes of all - a natural painter of stills, of rest, something of silence - we have no use for you. Preposterous, child, and why should you just have this canvas? Your uniqueness - that quiet life of yours - is no excuse. Well, we have our excuses, yes, child, but that's the beauty of the law.

1003. The greatest courage has yet to speak; yet to be seen. Let's just say we're rounding God's armpit -

145.7. Wasn't, should we attempt to fall off the edge of the world, beyond that blue horizon to the west? The great computer calculated a great while, and calculated, and calculated, - and isn't it amazing to still be able to read Latin today.

In these early ages 12up. of force, how could anyone, any of these self-proclaimed masters of the brush, truly come to paint the true word of God. In silence we pray, and the quiet seeds we plant today, we also declare the most fertile soil for a new noble art. Ah, no shortage of words; words as unique as snowflakes, as common as rain, as inspiring as passing clouds - as dry as our formidable sands - words are everywhere my friends, my very chilled friends, there is great still work to do.

123. Forty centuries of gold and not the rule look down upon us. And the only thing we do, in our glorious age, is preserve more of this rational. There's no question about it, we love winter - and the formula agrees.

325rst. And then the most absurd stillness arose overnight. A gray sea was worked and removed, and the newly exposed earth, which once held life like a proud mother, was given a new godly breath. Again. Again. Ever so silently. Again. As irrational as turtles' breath. And the days came and went without history. Again. Again.

676pp. A few rabbits had nearly all the cheese. Now substitute, silently, to yourself. Don't force it, let it flow naturally - quieter this time. No, quieter, my chilled friends. Stones at ease, full of grace. I wish you a silent day.

900. Like filling a glass of water, only quieter, and not in a glass.

9.00. Let us at least acknowledge our love of the irrational clowns. Tongues that know a thing or two about distances; that provide feet a comfortable stillness. You can't just watch their eyes, that's why they never wear shades.

9.0. A stone never says a word - one day it's simply there, like a new dawn. No one needs to greet such a thing, no such encouragement is needed. It simply arises. It simply is because you're something still.

10.00. Quietly, ever so quietly, we free a room hidden behind marble columns - an excellent view for someone very new. How does that toliet paper feel? Ha!

10.0 Have you ever stood before an ancient statue, a perfect example of the type of glory they knew the body, as well as the mind, was quite capable of experiencing - and to believe that requires a b and c - almost a tragedy if it weren't for that small flame that still burns on ever so quietly, ever persistently - these walls sicken even stone. It's great to know how to preserve up to a point, no? Perhaps, we need to stare at it longer, no.

9.88. Do you smell the hotdogs?! Everyone has to work, we chant! God's awesome plan has no room for the lazy, we justly declare! Daydreamers must work, or die? Look at these charming streets of charity - there's no time! Paved and maintained streets for cars that sit idle - endless miles of thick concrete - but for people, especially those awful daydreamers, what? Honk! Get out of our way - God's awesome plan demands this pace! Though, all the while, for countless reasons, we love to hoard time saving machines and other people, but that's called good management, not laziness. I just wonder, though, why God's awesome plan, the same plan that takes away our most vulnerable, requires us to slice the hills and always poke what is still. Perhaps, a good quiet walk would do everyone some good. A bit of a joke there. Oh, now our efficiency train has been lost! But you know, since the poor don't sign paychecks, the poor have so little to add anyway - such rational logic is found everywhere today - we're told it's officially endorsed by God as one rather harmless way to separate the blessed neighbor from the cursed neighbor. You didn't know, God judges and pins you even before you're through with this transitory life. That's why the super ambitious can't help the poor - it'd be against God's clearest, most traditional code.

9.8. We got all kinds of teachers - the kind students would love if they ever could reach them. The silent type with all kinds of irrational figures to get drawn in.

9.66. A new forest doesn't require parades, it surely doesn't require posters and those gimmick attractions and contests - no, as perfectly still as God, strength as inspiring and impressive as dancing rings. But what about our pissing rings? Stop drinking the sugar water? Are we that lazy?

9.6. We are great knowers of patience - some even great lovers - and what will come to be? I hope something irrational, quieter than a bee even.

9.44. Quietly, ever so quietly, take down to seed, again.

9.4. As the prized species of Being - ha! - it's all the more despicable that we ignore the fires burning among our forests. We claim too much when we speak of smarter planet. We have to reach the smart stage first.

9.22. Naturally, it's allowed, praised even, at the expense of another's private sphere, that more roads are paved over what once were quiet greens, permanent protection services along with walls, fences, doors, and locks are all erected and blindly enhanced, and spaciously preserved homes that all look terribly alike are spread out over what once were inspiring horizons. The stars lie at night. Naturally, as well, while we all must pick up this tab and more, we cannot, we dare not, create safety nets for the unfortunate rest. By God, we have principles and more.

9.2. There is much ado about nothing with these loud terror wars (hence the diversions, black highlighters, and the ho-hum approach to everything but high gas prices) - underneath all this nonsense, a silent movement of real reform, mistaken as a movement, is unfolding her petals, by the side of the road. New temples that provide each a proven floor.

9.99. What's done is done; listen before adding more to this frozen shore.

9.9. Don't get me wrong, I love flashy stadiums, high rises, and a good score; such classic yawns; fizz and dazzle distracts from what is necessary - don't tell me it's a lack of resources. But these cold hands on these colder shores are slowly preparing in a new dawn, brighter, warmer than all before. Quiet, please. Be very quiet. The old dew will awake from their long snore, the quieter we are.

9.77. We are a certain people who take extreme pride in doing everything really well - I mean, God blesses our more perfect union - that outrageous word again - but it's odd our greatness can't be applied to construct shelters the same way we construct 40,000 capacity stadiums. Damn, oh, damn, I forgot, we have principles, or contradictions, which our memory concedes to our well established pride (of doing everything more perfectly).

9.7. It's comical how desperate we are to provide the best response times to protect what on any other day of the week, we'd consider as junk - but, Harold, my magnificent possessions like the ones that remind us to live, laugh, and love; all ruined - but at the same rate we hold our fists tight and deny a safety net to our neighbor, to our friend, to a cold stranger on the street. Man, do we sit idle in traffic and make up all sorts of stories to justify our fat fists and then we race on to that next stop light, just in time! We magnificent social animals of the same big family hate for things to get embarrassing. Drive on!

9.55. Not every genius begins their mad pursuit at an early age. Why do we demand all other daydreamers nothing of this allowance? If they never bloom - so what. Ensure good soil and the best sun with the least interference.

9.5. A new dawn comes without force. It is gentle upon the old dew, and yet the new dawn knows, as does the old dew, which will carry the new day.

9.33. We ought to cringe over a god who follows every conversation with, "And I want you to invade!" There are, my chilled friends, plenty of places needing a good dose of liberation in our own backyard. Their faces don't need to be put on playing cards, no, they're too real for that nonsense. Ah, but that would require a new army, a different kind of heroism, noble heroism, and mad ones mistaken as devils.

9.3. We prove our shoe size by building higher, bigger, and more featured and exclusive palaces - perhaps, you may tour this rich display some day, on your empty stomach. Oh, but what a honor, bees! Help build and preserve a shiny thing or two and then go home to nothing. But the super ambitious earned God's little blue wonder all for themselves. We put too much faith in tomorrow -as if the arguements today just can't compete with the same ones said on Sunday, or maybe, the following Wednesday. Are we waiting for a headturner to say something clever; or a greater reward than Heaven to entice those super ambitious, who claim to do God's work, to mend the blanket?

9.11. A security blanket with holes. Gosh, you can't shoot me, I'm one of them humans, not a rabbit; I've got the laws - we're just one big family, yep. You can, though, deny me free basic shelter, land, food, and clean water - funny how those things are the essential ingredients to life - oh, but what a stink we make about being one big family (during televised speeches, after disasters, and before the big game). There's no question how lazy we are. Here's the real stink: there's no shortage of guns, fences, laws, blind gods, and sacred genes that provide the best excuses and rational to look the other way, like when certain tightrope walkers trip and fall. Drunk, we declare with instant satisfaction! If we were only banks and not life...ugh! We are the ultimate social animals, ever so proud of our rational thinking, and we prove this by making a mockery of the irrational, of silence, and those awful daydreamers.

9.1. From the very beginning, silence has been misunderstood. That's a key to another locked door.

767. I wish you a silent day, friend. (Maybe, something quieter will do.)

743a. Whenever you change farms, new ideas spring forth from new landscapes. This is crazy good. Abuse often hides behind wonderous shadows, and new rays of light can be a new beginning to a new world. That is why it was good even for a divine king.

725. There's something awfully redundant with our present day demands for freedom; just as there should be for a safety net - but maturity, as we are fully aware, painfully aware, is lacking nearly everywhere. My calendar had us down for bigger, better things. Seriously, what year is this?

33b. Perhaps, we should be thankful for these new challenges. All these austerity measures may very well feed an atmosphere of new solitude, silence, and seperation; and, beyond those sweet horizons, a new era of fewer. But as far as who gets what - that, my chilled friends - that has yet to be judiciously explored. New dawns seek new dreamers. Perhaps, you are something still?

33. We are recklessly obsessed with numbers except for the important One.

32a. Anywhere there is no right to remain silent, there is no right to open mouths about freedom.

32. Quiet. They're dancing.

5andfive. Join us. Get born. Eat pizza. Get old. Hold signs. Die. Not exactly breaking down doors, here. Oh, but there's so much, much more like contradictions, shunning, and hugging toliets. Don't get me wrong, the goldfish have it best. We're getting close to their level of understanding.

ada2. The world is God's belly. After discovering His pregnancy by His mistress Solitude, God thought about what He should do next. After some time, His irritation grew at the lack of perfection kicking inside, and He chose to abort almost the entire lot, except for a goof named Noah. There was pain everywhere, but God didn't mind. In time, even God walked away from His old belly. Perhaps, He's grown another. Anyway, God's never heard of a sin by rejecting what shouldn't be in the first place. All judgements are left to the one who is pregnant - not by every other cold dick thinking he still hears God.

one. A flower by the road. Slash those hills and poke what is still - say God, bless us. Kick the bucket full of legs and brush the land with the headless - say God, and pray this way. Flick the wrist, lob divine gifts, and cuff the last tree - and say God, march on, say God - say Destiny! Nevermind a flower by the road was forced to turn away.

-4.5. A day spent with a child. One tile. Two tiles. Three tiles. Four tiles. Five...err, what happens after a bajillion tiles? We all fall down! Every tile is promised as a step forward, the same as before. The same as before. The same as before. The same as before. Child who are you? The same as before. The same as before.

89blsr. When even our pigs are more refined - see that towering bread castle, that fortress of social integration - see their mouths stuffed with cold sands - see these meaningless shores rot our empty hands - for one moment, will you pause the game, and sense - what else do we know, what else could there be to value for the ultimate social animals? - Deny, deny, damn our pride!

ad65. I object, sir, on the grounds of babble. Come observe our new English classes. Are we not motivated to buy pink pens? How about our reliance on black highlighters? There's a new paper industry in town, a perfect example of our smarter society - volumes of black pages. Teach the youth to shoot the song birds - what kid isn't motivated by the melodious sound of shredders? These predictable advancements to our writing instruments have left our little ones so much to build upon (if they can learn to read between the lines). Every crayon is a walking stick. Ha, I had you believe we still walk.

(997). Oh, but have you seen them read! The best, simply, the best actors. Now, connect part A to the 1 mm subpart B of part C. Are the rest of us too busy to read? Do we prefer only glossy covers? Book jackets and then we're done. Best sellers than those untouched classics? Perhaps, it's a matter of vision. Noses by books can't smell roses by brooks. Ugh. Who has seen books or brooks in this giddy age? I have, once, in a painting. A word or two about our language, but who has the time? There are still more eggs to crack!

23. Why are the little ones unmotivated? The walls and tiles that explain this simple minded question have boxed in our good senses. Hence, drugs and capri pants are in high demand. You'll no doubt disagree with the babble, but when you eat what you shit, you've got a rabbit problem with something mistaken as pride.

@6.51. We were picking up piss-shells on a crowded beach. Our senses are as rotten as this shore. As we continued our worthless activity, we were more than approached by desperate creatures, begging for child. We have no money, we told each of them. They seemed undeterred by this and as we walked away, they shouted all kinds of things about Duty, Purpose, Love, Fulfillment, and Joy. Only, we noticed they had to have such words tattooed on their weak bodies - no thank you! This as we moved through the ever crowding cold shore. The void at its worst. The oldest profession hides behind even the best intentions.

43. Miracle of miracles, another one has arrived - sing me that song, Mother, sing me the one song with the open fields, the high trees, and unbroken shells. Mother? - What won't we toss in the fires? Father, may I see those bread crumbs? I threw them out to sea. I'm waiting for a bird to take me, to drop me free. There are no birds, child. Now, quiet your wild. Quiet, little one. Quiet, and done.

5.44my. We know of no better aim in life than securing the world to live in freedom. A good doctor would get out her pen, but we'd object to such an offense, considering the energy of our presentation and our heroically raised-print business cards. We'd request a new doctor.

6.12and. In the name of freedom and other botched measuring sticks, we find ourselves boxed into tighter corners, but all the same, proclaiming the glory of choice. Every modern corner exposes and strips us naked, and far from being naked in that cute innocent way, the way it supposedly was in the beginning; instead, it's cold, hard, and brutally inescapable. Sadly, there's not even a place to be thrown outside of today's painted garden. The punchline: virtual green is envied more than natural green.

Today, our seeds are something else, a greater mystery since they deny the seasons - and perhaps you have a handful of natural seeds left to plant, but the question remains, Where? I don't race after cures, I expect better uses of our souls and time.

Don't think you're just going to stand in one place, placidly chewing over my sweat and blood, while you daydream all day. Oh, no! I've got a whole herd of cows that do that. The funny thing is, this rancher kept right on talkin'. 3.4r.

see4.2. But, seriously, what work do we not discredit! But they earned every dime, right? Dime?! Ha!

4.75bb. Are they as rare a breed as they claim? A question to put to squirrels who know a thing or two about quiet spaces. Ah, I see, it's a matter of avoiding the arduous task - simpler to deflect the blame, but wouldn't that be lazy?

or3.75 Why should those who build sand castles have to deal with the consequences of those who built once with concrete? Oh, boy, even better, four lanes of love. How sociable. This concert tickles me stupid. Oh, wow, another eco-friendly building (except for the part that it exists and nothing grows or lives on concrete) stands tall over a growing population of homeless, penniless, landless, undereducated human beings. Bravo, another great way to showcase our advances. Seriously, we put way too much faith in our calendars to tell us how far we've come.

4.5%. But the super ambitious, those blanket of individuals whose work ethic is far greater than slice bread, who all could show us a thing or two about working hard and smarter, also, quite naturally, require drivers for their luxury cars, private golf courses to stretch, island cruises, fine restaurants, theaters, social clubs, stadiums, ritzy hotels with golden views, gated mansions with maids, heated swimming pools, garden keepers, and a private jet or two. Did someone say yachts? Now, define lazy for me once again, because I've become quite hard of hearing over all the quacking about good-for-nothin' daydreamers. Those same nameless daydreamers who get their nails done. Gasp! Unless we're wrong here, and the super ambitious work all the time, consquently! Consequently, we'd like our quiet spaces back. If they work only part of the time, well, an apple is an apple, a hen is a hen.

3.85hay. We have organized ourselves a world without solitude or silence, the consequences of which we continue to deny.

2.87pp. Instead of being welcomed, the irrational clowns are shoved out of sight, into the shadows below, into the darkness to burn alone, and the cold fronts that make them so idle, we paint as progress, as the height of forty centuries of social development.

6.34. Everyone's going to have to cut back and make sacrifices. Okay. I'm ready with my rolled up sleeves. Where do I go with my bag of seeds and, more urgently, where do I get my Caterpillar keys? Some are called to sacrifice their life, some a meal, some their pills, and - oh, dear God, no! - some social grads are even called upon to sacrifice fewer white balls. Fewer white balls? You know, that might not be such a bad thing after all. It's been a never ending pissing contest around here for way too long.

6.75can. It has become customary to paint our water clear, and not joke how clear it is.

6.77this. We gather upon these eroded shores, hoping, even some still to this day - praying, for a new explorer to mistake us for who we think we are.

7.01. Did you at least introduce yourself? Oh, no. I didn't say a thing. I didn't want it to become awkward.

0.01. Reading this will make you say things like Brains! You once favored the fish at sea and believed in the salt of life, but not now. Now, your magnet sweeps for bread crumbs upon this wonder island. An island proudly covered with the finest stubborn sands ever made. Behold this one-note concert played on the most unique stage ever, where by grand design, the blind believe the blind; and what once was unsaid, and what once was unnamed, and what once was your full hand, has to be burned for warmth without further decay, quicker without delay. And your children knowing no better weep all night and all day.

(5.6.) When he opened his door, a thousand clay figures stood below him. A thousand fat faces facing the throne - his throne - at the back of the crowded room. A thousand fat heads all ignored his moan. I had an awful day, he said to 1,597 ears (including his own). He soon took his seat on his throne, throwing his legs over one of the arm rests, and then gazed hard at all the jealous gazes he got back. He nonchalantly looked rather up and away, then, he said, You know, I'm starting to believe you're all deaf. Suddenly, he jerked his head back at them and shouted, You! Take him away! I knew there were more. He went on to peel a banana taking great pleasure at what he heard.

2. Unfold those ears, my dear boy, a silent irrationalist is speaking with a banana peel.

$6.22. Okay, it's a date. I bet cookies to apples that I'm going to say something about bananas, but the last thing I want to do is give the impression that I'm a superior manager, so I think I'll go buy a rabbit at some point and place it next to my toothbrush. That should at least give me something to be ashamed about, you know, to keep the conversation going. I'm not the best communicator, but I do have a bandsaw, next to my corkscrew. I like saying bandsaw and picking up my bandsaw at the same time. You know solitude, and it's a date.

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