odeeeil

My blank ocean of lifeless oxygen bubbles. Floating leaves flip over and remind me of sailboats. Garden variety bugs crawl inside my view and mimic my behaviour. I add things with the British accent, favourite and delicious. Oh no that one is right.

Crimpled paples cumpled propers decide languid hours on starry nights time. The night owls are up and the mice aren't, so they starve. Drop dead big fly bird and make a dreamcatcher for the unpure.

I wanted to learn how to cook but the years pass as I open prepackaged flavor systems and cook all vegetables to a pulpy buttery mixture. They're good like that though. I could learn a thing or two. Wink wink.

Cosmology sounds like Cosmetology. But are so different. The lavish personalities of such differences are like Christians and Buddhists arguing over the last bottle of wine. If it helps the choking...go for it.

It's about that time that I don't know what I'm talking about anymore. My secret but oh not so secret outlet to the world. I want a sailboat and a typewriter with a ribbon that works... or at least one that is near the last decade or so that I don't have to order stuff online. I guess then it would need a power outlet. When do modern conveniences end and the real life situations take over again? We all expect there never to be power outages or disasters until they happen, people still typing away furiously while walking down the sidewalks on their laptops. Forgive the wavelengths that the agents are planting in brains. Did you hear about that?

Well here are some pictures instead of cryptic drabble from yours truly.

These are some of the things I will be planning my giant backpiece on... but just as ideas..