Not that fond of biscuits myself, except on the occasional occasion when there is something inneresting to partially soak during a dunk, I never gave much credence to Waterhouse's analogy, well, at least, not until last weekend. I was itching my craw, moping along down the street as I do, (looking up at the sky on occasion), when I faultered in my stride. Majestic interludal visions popped up machine gun like, (that was nothing new) but as life remedy idea 4098 dropped in, it started raining and I figured I was going to have to take a whole new tack on the mopoke principal.
I've been settled into the mopoke concept for a few years now....you know: "Mopoke"
A little meaningless utterance once in a while, out of the blue; it had been carrying me for quite a time.
"Mopoke"
Hell: "MOPOKE"
"OINK"
"Fuck off; shit heel welter"
Interject interlude prancing...(Note: all this shit usually to myself...in between silences and stuff.....or out loud in the car or even at the game)
But that rain...something
Something I ain't figured yet to be honest. But its there. Just changed things a stretch.
I'm still doing that whistling thing but now I sense, well...something...
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Comments (1)
TEX LUMBAGO
said:
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grate to haff yew back kunt. still edifying ya self by tweeakin in rain? as welteschung may be. mebebbe. stilt. claim ya cousin to place the meeting upon an island soon. the next one. |
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