conveyor

stately jonathan sergei hector phillip slicey holmes methyl jekyll cribbon veronica rocksoff molly levonorgestrel maxiquadrillion d'don von minitrinity hecate borus nathaniel lydia charleston lumumba francois phenotype robinsino fuck messier whitman'll sparnford woke up at three o' the clock ano maturity because i say so and so others do unto me

ah, the richness of the waking-up metaphor, however inapropos - how profitable the vein of future lyrics a branch of assonance promises in an uncarved block of schlock and trite workmanlike information conveyed by belts - what's the cycles per second up to, thirty-two gigahertz? tomorrow's mills and processing facilities are here today, horray!

'n so, what is writing, again? i must have forgot, lost the sense of it - best case scenario, i'm a technician sans magic lately ('xcept the magic fader), but i do believe in magic, man - but writing, that wretched thing, feels weird, either solipsistic, or presumptuous, that anyone should read - either/or - perhaps i should switch to sentence case and re-embrace punctuation, just to crick and crack some bones i never knew were stiff to the point of brittle - ol' man johnny ain't what'e used to be - dick-ay, eh? at the rate of a pro-football player minus ever having any physical prowess - except the sneaky smallness of his frame, being able to hide and fit in tiny spaces to evade the giants, and the fast metabolism, nothing sticks to the ribs - he never was very limber though, never could do those splits and lunges and yoga moves, and now he's on the fasttrack from that subpar norm to malady accelerado, where he's supposed to "learn" what he's felt all his damn life, the fragility of physique, the reality of mortality, the fleetingness of life, etcetera - you caint school me on nothin' jack, i knew it already

okay jackey, maybe you can school me on a few things, i stretched that point a bit just to make a point that needed to be made and taken to counterbalance a giant bias of trite-ness that gets mistaken for sage wisdom, because convention gets so big and heavy it gets to attaining an oppressive gravity that people mistake for a universal constant rather than an accident of mass