brokers of exsquisite dream things anfd slugs AND LOBSTERS AND LENGTHY SERIAL-LIKESTORIES OF bloody caps lock bah!
HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!!!!
Been away for a while, love to all, hope everyone is well. Woop woop woop woop woop woop.
Funny, was just wondering where you were last night after seeing your name on thread #1, and lo and behold up you pop!
...Dudley
"Followers of obsolete unthinkable trades, doodling in Etruscan, addicts of drugs not yet synthesized, black marketeers of World War III, excisors of telepathic sensitivity, osteopaths of the spirit, investigators of infractions denounced by bland paranoid chess players, servers of fragmentarywarrants taken down in hebephrenic shorthand charging unspeakable mutilations of the spirit, officials of unconstituted police states, brokers of exquisite dreams and nostalgias tested on the sensitized cells of junk sickness and bartered for raw materials of the will, drinkers of the Heavy Fluid sealed in translucent amber of dreams."
.... okay, i give up,. someone clever tell me the answer.
It's like writing... on drugs!
not just drugs...
A curse. Been in our family for generations. The Lees have always been perverts. I shall never forget the unspeakable horror that froze the lymph in my glands ? the lymph glands that is, of course ? when the baneful word seared my reeling brain: I was a homosexual. I thought of the painted, simpering female impersonators I had seen in a Baltimore nightclub. Could it be possible that I was one of those subhuman things? I walked the streets in a daze. I might well have destroyed myself. Nobler, I thought, to die a man than live on, a sex monster. It was a wise old queen ? Bobo, we called her ? who taught me that I had a duty to live and to bear my burden proudly for all to see, to conquer prejudice and ignorance and hate with knowledge and sincerity and love.
Poor Bobo came to a sticky end. He was riding in the Duc de Ventre?s Hispano-Suiza when his falling piles blew out of the car and wrapped around the rear wheel. He was completely gutted, leaving an empty shell sitting there on the giraffe-skin upholstery. Even the eyes and the brain went, with a horrible shlupping sound. But Bobo?s words came back to me from the tomb, the sibilants cracking gently. ?No one is ever really alone. You are part of everything alive.?
Exterminate all rational thought.
Erm... rhubarb?
In conversation with my toilet, i uncovered several DARK DARK facts
The machine that made the Burroughs family fortune:
It's like a typewriter... on drugs!
its not big & its not clever. now where did you get that typewriter ?! hmmm ? i want names & addresses & youre not allowed out until i get them !
So thats what John smith got for Christmas