Sit up straight and milk the trees
2005-02-28 - 10:04 p.m.

We saw in the waters a sludgy sort of beauty and decided our lives would run short and our pants would fall off and if we did not grasp this chance to chase our sludgy desires, we would collapse in bristly borrowed boxes with no envelopes to be mailed. It wouldn't do. The circumstances brought us a canoe and things seemed pretty straightforward. Our meddlings with all the life in the blinking fields of lotion seemed to be attacking only features of glory and harmony. In a terrific burst of almonds, I tragically realized that the sludge had disappeared while we busied ourselves with mops and disagreements. There was no more beauty in our pond. Once linked to luster, we now wonder if our exposition to hallowed emotions has begged our disillusion to reveal that ugliness is entirely unavoidable.

This is rather important, my dear. The problem has been the distraction. Once so focused on glittery highlighted destiny, we photograph the leggings of sultry caribou and ignore the impulses to abandon all that is real and sink into a lonely abyss with nothing but an intense system of stacked watercrafts and a certain passion for lakes. You’re going to think I mean this in a void of continuation, but sincerely, sir, I beg of you to flush me in the lagoon of past octagonal vows.

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