Model T

               In no way can I afford to be subteraqueous.
(Hi, I sigh.)

Crossroads

I decided to remain and observe the ceremony, which was to continue nine days and nights.

PEASE-porridge hot,

Pease-porridge cold,

Pease-porridge in the pot.

Nine days old.

Nine Days Without Seeing an Elephant. The sale lasted nine days, there being 1144 lots.

Thus nine days I sat upon my knees, with my babe in my lap(top).

Nope

Trying to cope with polite asses, she found herself irremediably trapped in a perilous sphere. Out of this globe, out of this world -- her aspirations, much like the style of some dumb newfangled Chicago jerk specializing in unnarrated short stories, sounded otherworldly. Shemale of some curious designation denomination, irretrievably lost.

Saving grazed

In no cowardly spirit do I write, nor in revenge. A retailer in retaliation -- is not what I am. There is no dastardly plot, either, to rob you of an amazing future. Just read on your dirty magazines, don't write me off please, that is all. At this stage let me ask a vital question : are textbooks piled haphazardly ?

We scowled revengefully, not daring to reply. Then a long day awaited us. Piles of books everywhere, hideously pitted against a powerful shoat.

Don't shoot me ! In no cowardly spirit do I write.

Missed opportunities on the "Pont Wilson"

Under the lilac streaks of cloudy evergreens, a soft breeze was tugging at Michel Gressier's flags. Cooler, indeed, was the wind on the heights near Notre-Dame and Noah's Ark.

(Dammit, this was fuel for Touraine sereine.)

Mustang-along

I have just tried to imagine what it will feel like if ever I try to translate the various texts in this blog. Then I have writ (yes : writ) the previous sentence, and noticed (yes : picked up on the fact , spotted) that something was not completely clear : in what language do I intend to (or consider) translate (translating) this blog ? In which (French or English) ? In what (Tagalog will do) ?

-------

Dreaming up, conjuring. Thinking up, fancying. Presuming, surmising. ( Sowing wild guesses.)

Just so you know

For the umpteenth time : adverbs are fine.

Inside jog

As we were freesbeeing our way through a very sunny Sunday afternoon, we came across an apricoty escapist of the vilest sort. No free thinker would ever smile down to us. And all of it taking place in the square Mariotte  -- dunno if this is more of a patio or of a yard or of a play area -- where poodles are seen with flasks in their fur !

The old man was shouting, grumbling aloud so to speak against this apricoty escape artist.

I was laughing inside.

No seaside resort to brag about, no nice neighbourhood either, however green, and then whatever was coined or made up on Mt Everest has just not reached us. So the ludicrous dog trotted away. Can't you scamper or canter, you fishy furry apricot ?

In my name

Granted, a desert is what I deserve. And bluntly in tens and dozens specks of sand come my way, blind my eyes. Oh pain. In tens they whirl. Under tents can I protect myself against myriads of grains of sand ?

Nobody knows my name.

Thursday after lunch

Her cheery cherry smile I bluntly unkissed. Untidily she waved her hand, with lavish fingery innuendos. (There are dos and there are don'ts. Deer and does, in thralls and in throes, etc.) Not an unkiss I'd like to forget, not a smile I'd blatantly dismiss. Not in so many words, at least.

Strings ("of my heart")

As they left the place unhurt, they felt unscathed, and confident, knowing that they had left no stone unturned and let no bows unrosined. After a brawl there is always this definite flavour of excitement and loss which makes you wonder about such trivia as "love" or "the human soul". (The human brain is a desperate topic.)

St Stephen

   Now of all places you're going to live in Saint-Etienne de Chigny.

Aren't Sundays horrendous ?

Yokohama, with a clarinet

Is a veneer of friendliness a good enough reason ? The vendors flew out to greet us in droves, petty thieves. With a scarf I strangled the horse dealer. With a calf I left, undisturbed, my speech unveneered, and  - shall I admit it ? -  utterly uncheered.

For days on end I stared at my face in the mirror, a mere veneer of ugliness.

Golden days everyone.

Ashes to ashes, reneged to overasserted

This is not being tepidly polite. It's not about defending your ideas lukewarmly either. Nothing to do with putting it mildly or other slight trepidations of meaning. No hot denial, no denying hotly, no dense reply on the hotline. They're not ignoring you coolly ; they're not ignoring you at all ; they're not even aware that you are there. No cold shoulders, so that you can't have heard the missus saying anything coldly (or coldly enough).

Roughly speaking : enough said.

Strings

How much more coffee do you need ? How much more coffee do you usually need ? How much more coffee would you usually need ? With how little sleep can you cope ? With how little sleep incidentally can you really cope ? Incidentally, with how little sleep can you cope ?

How little little sleep might affect my moods is a moot point, or a dubious issue.

How little a scarcity of sleep.

How little a scarcity of sleep might or might not affect my mood is undubiously a moot point.

I frankly doubt that anyone would be interested in knowing how little the lack of sleep actually affects my mood(s).

(In some short sentences, Michael Cunningham has three or four different adverbs, at different places.)

Afterthought

     It's Monday's fool, you lunch.

Enough said ?

Deadfully the graveyard felt empty. Adverbs are fine, finally, let it pass. Adverbs leave much to be desired, and little to be said. So the graveyard dreadful as it is reddens the air. The church empty as it was felt cheated. Commas might help, adverbs are just

fine.

Jack of Naples and of Suffolk

His badge was a clog and a chain. So he was an ape, a jackass, a dumb waiter of some denomination (a jerrycan of an Anglican ? tough pronunciation exercise, lad !).

A year or two more Jackerooing would only mean the consumption of so many more figs, so avaunt ! from hence straight to good old Suffolk !

(I choke with guilt, I choke with laughter, I choke with vomit, I choke with pain, I choke with tears.)

An arty-fartsy fellow finding himself chock-a-block with Our Good Man in Suffolk ! Now that's a nice cigar for you. Serves you right.

Bow-el vow-els

Milkshake UFOs and wise weasels on the HF painter's easel. And then double beds and triple pillows just don't make the night sweeter or swifter. The bang in my head. Is the bang in my head more than a mere song (music for the birds ?) ? And is the pain in my left elbow cancerous or not ? Better call it tendonitis or tendinitis lads.

Sleeplessness and nightmarishness cannot make up for a lost life, one lost in time, one lost in ways unwise. So they say.

In the mirror

In the mirror.

In the mirror.

In the mirror roommates err.

In the mirror.

In the mirror motors purr.

In the mirror in the mirror.

In the mirror.

In the mirror I'm a fraud.

Stir-fry

I move for no man.
No man ever moaned.   (has)   No man has ever moaned. Evergreens in your soup.

And a fry in the oilment.

As usual

Where   there's a Will there is a Way.

Gertrude tut-tutted commas, so what ?

Boing boing boing !!!

A hard-working Sunday with steady reading, sedulous writing. Very busy people, unflagging attention.

(The young couple, no longer not-since-eons-ago petitlatinizing. Just one drop of milk in her tea. Dr. Claptrap drinks his black as soot, yet in a brown mug which makes the simile somewhat contrived or haphazard.)

Dr. Johnson eventually turned his back on adjectives, finding them an abjection. (Even finding them abject was too much to bear.) He was always cautious to a t. And dressed to the nines, goes without saying.

Beetroots cooking in the pressure cooker, Dr. J. would not know what to make of that. Dr. C. feeds the red juice to the arronzo, then turns his back on cooking, leaving the pinkish-brownish giant eggs to cool on the window sill.

It's Monday's lunch, you fool.

No ad-

-jectives.

High time there were images again.

Soothe our souls, images. Images soothe our souls. (Depends on which, though.)

Wallowing in images can badly damage your eyesight or your health or or or or or

Wallowing in images I sort of fell down.

--- Whereto ?? --- (Horror !!)

The answer is : I do not have the wherewithal. (Survithal.)

At high tide there were images again. (And sharks and jellyfish, but that's another story kettle of fish.)

Red chaos

Sipping the third drop or the last of my glass of La Gaule 2005 I muse on redness and prepositions.

gs . at

The previous message was posted at 12:21. Here he goes again with palindromes. A palindromedarian is what I am, quoth I smoking the last butt in my pack of Camels. A pale appalling palindromizer ? Nothing of the sort. No strings

attached.

Lost ?

Hideous and tedious : Villeperdue.

Back of beyond. Un bled paumé, as the French would say. 

                       Lost in

the fog (you thought : translation).

No need to bargain

Why wistful finally, and why not wistful ?

Why wistfully eventually and at the end of the day why not wistfully ?

Why not feeling wistful and why act wistfully ?

Why write wistful rather than writing wistfully ?

(Etc.)

This was on March 25, 2008 - 30 months ago. 30 long wistful months ago. With nostalgia aforethought.

Speak speak oh Chesapeake

There's no autobiography to speak of.

There's no autobiography.

There's no autobiography to speak of at night with friends as drunk as you.

(I haven't been drunk for years, for eons. So there's no

Autobiography.)

There's no nonsensical no-nonsense autobiography or self-portrait. (Isn't the word otherworldly at this stage somewhat wordy ?)

To tamper with syntax and with autobiography first know that there is such a thing as syntax and there is no such thing as autobiography. So there's no autobiography in the dead of the night when you've died with the night.

(I haven't been the City's own night owl for eons, for years. So there's no
Autobiography.)

A sorry sight

Tremendous tantrum thrown.

A devil of a child everyone in the shop was desperately trying not to pay attention to.

Through the nose : that's how you pay then. Serves you right.

(A sorry sight.)

Not

No I'm not disinhibited.
Not a bit.
No, not inhibited either.
For pete's sake I'm not disinhibited.

I'm just hibited. And inhabited. Indeed I am prelapsarian and post-saurian.

Randormant

Random.
Dormant.
Dormouse.
Dormitory.
Vomitory.

Here I stand at 4 am throwing up in my hands.