O

Oxtail soup in the fall on the shore of the oxbow. As far as billabongs go it's quite modest. Wee turtles, green lilies and a small amount of duckweed and sunfish.

Oxnard OXR it is not. Thousands of oaks yes, but within a forest rather than a county.

Oxycodone scheduled not once, but twice for reasons of making everything into a world of sweet fuzzy rabbits. Much like the cotton-tail in front of the bumper of the car in the parking lot this lunch, today.

Only Occidental in its sum of a sun setting over the western mountains.

P

psychosis or slight periodontal dis-ease, each a malady turned back by the toothbrush. one by land, two by sea. lantern-like in appearance on a dark-knight delineating the border of light and dark. thats the spirit. outside of a common frame of reference and stabilized reality-field of consensual delusion. that is what is known in the business as the doctors office. hygienists know and enforce this. pushing toothbrushes with every technological enhancement of angles, bristles, bristle layout, even colors in order to create a common order. a land of publicly fluoridated city water systems for the societies continuing reach.

Q

Sometimes things happen with ease. Flow, so to speak. This is the q. Quixotic like peppermint flavored flavur-flav with a eucalyptus schent. This is the q. Quantified like standard oil future based derivatives in a bull market. This is the q. Quintessential like forcible entry at the bank vault on a Thursday afternoon. This is the q. Quinine like the malaria fighter but with a special alcoholic based twist of lime. This is the q. Five mysterious yet standard things which may seem innocuous, but in fact are part of a larger whole. QED.

R

Jealousy proves everyone is the same. How about you just go to U down below, press play, and open this goodness in a new tab. Make it through the whole song you get a prize. Maybe the prize is your own sanity. Or lack thereof. Not that any judge should be. Though that is kind of the point isn't it. Comparison only works when things are roughly the same, but different. Say you got a flounder and a halibut. Both bottom feeders. Both fish. Then you got a star-fish. Now they all live underwater. Now you got yourself a library book on the 3rd shelf of the 2nd row of the stack on the left near the entrance. Not much in common. Maybe. All exist on earth. For starters. Judging by things it could and could not be similar. Matter, check. Carbon-based, check. Earth-bound, check. Proximately close, check. Green, fail. Contain green, check. Smell like oranges, fail. Quite obviously there is going to be a whole lot of stuff happening during this post if this goes on. So it won't. The assumption that the number of examples was too few may be in error. Maybe it is not all the same and more are better. Wait, maybe less. Wait what is this? Reaction, perception, thought, feelings are shared? Well damnation this gets confusing. Except you understood and were misunderstooded. Communication works nice that way.

-->*<--

Things got to be common enough to understand, too uncommon and you don't. Which done goes to show you jealousy is certainly skin deep. At least.

S

Texarcana never looked so good. Not nearly as good as a Greyhound full of witches packed aboard on a journey to Alamogordo. Despite what you might believe, they cannot eat that much. Wolves could perhaps, but not greyhounds. What really happened? There was an unfortunate game of chicken. Witches playing chicken is not the same as ordinary chicken. What you end up with is a bunch of smaller and smaller witches who can't get much smaller but won't admit that they cannot. Next thing you know there's this mangy little ex-racing dog lying down on the sidewalk in a small Texas town who's just picked up the a whole abashed coven or conclave desperate for transport to somewhere other than the middle of the wasteland of the sidewalk. The effects may wear off at anytime, no telling. The voices will grow along with the dubious characters masquerading as fleas at which point being a deaf greyhound with the ability to run fast under duress isn't so bad of a thing.

T

Under the hanging green moss and the green-yellow light of the perpetual dusk they live. No need, no desire to travel. The stars they can see. The reasons for going they can or do not. Those wishing to visit simply come to them, their world. Just instants to simply jump light-years or further. There and then it becomes clear what travel could mean. Engulfing stillness within a silently roaring forest and conversations which reach further back and far forward in time within an expanding depth. Lost, with the realization of the mountain home. The tree, the forest, one voice and then many, many more... and wayward firefly's going on home.

U

know the way.

V

The soul is yellow and the magpie is blue.

STOCK

MARKET

W

Life is a confluence of events. Once I heard that somewhere. Maybe in the previous sentence, perhaps in one previous to that.

Sometimes coincidence is so coincidental that it is no coincidence.
Other times it is all coincidence.

There is no such thing as chance, however.

As soon as you pick up a d20 your options are one to twenty. That is not chance. That's pseudo-random. As they say, the die is cast.

Chance happenings, perhaps, but not random.

X

Nearly everything about space is empty. So why does matter, matter?

Easy, nowhere else can there be an lama riding an llama with the reins in one hand and a pancake in the other. Other places or non-places can claim to have that, but they don't. They are cheap imitators. Now you may say that a llama and a horse are not all that different, but tell that to the horse. Of course, you're going to hear nothing much. Besides that Mr. Ed, he was really animatronic. Looked real enough to fool you, didn't he? Without James Randi I'd have never of known myself. Not that I really trust him either, but I guess one man's artist is another man's savior, is another mand's doctor is another man motorcycle mechanic. Unless you are a lama. Then my understanding is that the pancake is really more like a roti and it really just fooled you all into believing that the waffle house started to allow llamas in the drive-thru. Just so you know, they don't. Don't even try it. I did and it is safe to say that next time I'm getting the coffee and just spilling it on me and suing right away instead of eating the pancake first.

Y

Wings are gravity knives.

Or skeptics. Looking at why falling towards the center may not be what you just do.

Or heretics. Displaying why inevitability is not.

Heavy it is, as self-centered.

Z

Spin up the wheels, it's time for a ride. Time to ride the crazy train on an express route through the alpenglow of your inner medula oblongata on and through your corpus collusum and into the collusem of the unseen collussus of your primitive sub-concious self. Welcome DAvid. Pick a nuber, take a seat and lets see how long of an eternity your chair will exist before losing its legs and becoming an primitive piece of art and general pedestrian hazard. Tripping isnt it. Onto your face. About face if it's a mirror. Mirrors on the floor. You wouldn't fall onto the ceiling. Unless you're into living on a ringworld or something with no floor. Last count though, asymptotic boundraries didn't hold much water. More like they flowed the ocean through the eye of a needle and left about as much of a grain of salt on the tiberian plains or dear Troy. Nearby to that city was another, in another time however. Greater, and forgotten today. It will remain so for times longer. OH I see the laundry is done. Which means cleanest of socks and new fresh furry terry-cloth fuzzies to populate the lint trap of the edge of conciousness or is it the dryer. Jim morrison couldn't get much higher. That though is a physical limitiation, man. The doors to perception, those are barn doors. That back 40 is a pretty good size and right right when those doors are swung open with teh hay a drying. May even be a bit of a breeze blowing. Like the kind of the yellow stubble fields of van gogh's frenetic nightmare waking dream of the walking dead. Like near on to there was this gas station which had maps to the edge of the state, but no furterh. Supposing though there will be another filling station a bit further on down. Eithe rin this state or next.

Finest Hour

Some know how to speak. Churchill for instance. Everybody can speak, but not everybody can speak. Most can read, write and type. Though all are not the same. To you on the sidewalk yesterday, you are equal to all, in everything but achievement. ==

Leaves you.
=--======!
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=== --- ====@@#


Wondering. About ASCII art. code tags too.

ASCII codes, wondering about art?

Sidewalk

From away sideways it is forward and back down the walk. Back there all the ended steps, and the start. On ahead steps the path to walk, a destination. Guidance in concrete. Around the block, street and path upon a mobius world a track. Avast the ocean. Pirates!

Pilots of chaos, indeed.

Dancing the waltz, tango, foxtrot up on the wheelhouse roof.