wavesaver

Rapidiment, enter the queue.

A certain confine, comfy, can type fairly well, still ---
tassels.

Purposefully on a lonely mythovibe. Not much ration. Still. Dunno if I could carry on a conversation. What is the point of the party?

Tissue is comfortable. Aphex is also. As well.

Well I'm kind of sinewed between agendas, itinerary stretched immediately, what was I doing? Trying to do?

Gravelicon lining grouts in the arbitrary grot. Got. Gotten. Self experiment? Resonance for the good of genetic and millenarian lineagons, polyonal, plattitudes? Placement with the bending basements of the wending floorboards? Need drip dilution. Water.

No more feeling freaked. Found a new place in chronically out. Uh oh, here we go. That pro stuff. Professionally sound. And around. Wound. Wind? I am? Me? I dunno. But here we go. Rational factions splintered. It's interesting.

The cassock, tattering in the wind, who said I would scrape the void on to you? Scrape it out of that, scrape it on to -- the cassock, when losing touch was a natural way to go. Hey, it's what I wanted.

Opium and water. It's a touch stone. Here we go. Around this merry go round. It's a touchstone. It's television. It's quality. It's something to do in this weekend spackle. It matters little. Means nothing. But everything, right now, the grotto. Lined with owls and analazers, alls well. Lono. Botdrommo. Forchrostrockcho. Kandalacka. Dex kept me flaquered with reinbows... This? Getting wild and flunged. Would flunge. Should. Wille. Yeah, but not necessary, right? Conventions, soaked to aesthetics, a little spackle of resonance, these cosmic cause dances in my life, people I know, survey says, survey, sajak?

The white blur goes, along, and I wonder how I can exploit my position here in this strange damp and electronically warm corner of the floorboards, most people are asleep, I picked a weird and perfect time to lacquer the keys, maybe, let's hope it works with the rest of this mechanism, I'm not abandoning control, trying to work with, with, you know? So I guess that means more snow on the brain is necessary, to work with, even given the graven comfort and nursery siness and finess thatsnecessary to play the wrong notes intentionally, like those grey fyukin stripes, verbatumb, heh, the crumbs of this special place on the floorbored, thinking, maybe maybe

well, the raison of another paragraph, there is some kind of amnesia renewal, maybe that is what is going on, like dipolar circuits on an old growth forest, i'd arrest and traverse the larval grains if i had my limbs on the panel, but we're standing in a matrix that is very compartimanenalized, why not lose and lope, my people, i related to the off and on, one of who i was, one of those, hey ha, yeah

people who used chaos drive me now

don't ask me for a reading, i'm the wavesaver, enjoy the butterskotch flavor, remember the good times we had, i will throw in the towel when the art fuzz triad reveals tingling self-obsessed mold dartistry, like peaches. Yeah. You know what I'm talking about? I figured you would. Even though I'm in quicksand. Decisions. Should I pursue this line of questioning, and insufflate atop cioran? I'm not sure. When you get into the thick of it, punctuates, and paradigms shlurn, and new words form, and hey, where's that randomnity i ordered? I remember why I liked fucking around with this in the first place, the chaos, something I wasn't always connected to - sometimes it comes around again, gravity waves. There's more. To come. Mmm, it's hack time. It's not all rehash. Mostly though. That's what you find here. I'm amused I can pull on some strings. Baby let me follow you down.