Sunday, 29 March 2015

Sundae am nasty

Dear diary reader, I don't do this often so pay close attention and click & read the bulbous letter'd & linked:

Blegg Dock Read is reasonably responsible for thishere entry in ways worthy of bullets in numerical form. How many?

I'll tell you in some particular order   (+1 for each &):
  1)  prose & poetry
  2)  gazing up@n other peep's biznis
  3)  music & musing on the radio
  4)  th@t other sense of attention deficit

Had he not writ the above bulbously letterd & linkd poem prior to his trip into Swans, that is to say, even if it were not worthy of being framed & hanged, he is the best in every single case without exception whenever somebody else is not, which is approximately daily, which I am definitely not. Summary judgment: Pop is better than I.

Apropos poesie & prosa, this brilliantly expressed centenary wish is friendly-foreign to the primary language of this non-daily product by one of the multi-talented multitude of K8s I know, I know.

Plenty o' Payne can be found on any given Sunday & from one to the next. I choose this one because it is off the beaten grid, maybe right up my alley. Say it, Merry Kins: äh-loo-min-ee-oom!

Lend a helping head with the straw entwined in darkness' radicalism.

Just in, this reminds me of something I said thrice if I said it once: All are critical of supply-side economics except for the trickling that starts with themselves. This reminder that there're ninety-nine percent humans hungering beyond beneath some trite t-shirt attired slogan of the same – though I'm not one hundred percent not sure it was planned in the Lamps and Wire as such – reminds me further of the power of the pyramid. Meditate on that.

& listen to this: