I lost the minute I was supposed to post the post in. It was supposed to be a minute ago. Work and worms and the slow build of logging/
this is my what-for.
capitalize the new brutalism.
a shirt made of angry gestures. a birdfilled shirty.
the screen just made some sort of screechy motion.
to be honest, perfectly. I worry about possession, about becoming possessed. things from the middle of the night sink into a back and chest. on tamer on tamer on old datsuns and ernest borgnine. how would you like your name to be spelt?
lick your name pelt. the save now button
keeps wonking the screen up and I've gotted better at being a person.
it has to do with less sharp edges, more rounding up.
the new humanism will not be capitalized. will be the color of the waves and the crest, the fallen grasses.
so in another number of minutes sleep.