Oblate. Shoal. Counterpostal. Nabokov between two mountains. The balloon contained an unusual gas. The man who dropped off the hospital bed smelled like weed. The drain is in the concrete. The drain is in the woman. She gave herself a trephine for spiritual reasons. The point is to root out the pseudoscience with the vaunted time of framing with michaelmas. However. She guilded all the wood she found - a real problem. Some people get into the Guinness World Book of Records because they have real problems. The man who had to stand for so long because he was a prisoner or war. The woman who swallowed so many pins because she was a compulsive swallower. One of the Marx bros developed the clamps that held the atom bomb in place. The Tybee bomb at the bottom of the sea. My childhood was punctuated by red, and I feared the riders would come out of the waves, the sea. Father threatened to kill himself right by my open window. The cloth curtains went in and out like a graceful. Like a full. He threatened to swim out forever and die before he shot himself. Then, mother married the man on the grounds. Every day at college, I wrote her a letter. Harold Humes, Harry Humes, H. Louis Humes and Paul Auster go on the street with 5,000 dollars in 50$ bills. They believe, if they pass it out quickly, some kind of econ system will excite and collapse. An invisible hand. The man takes a metal comb and hits it across his knuckles. Next, he makes fists and wheels them around and around in a white room. Blood dots get on all the walls and the ceiling. Over time, they become brown. Because it was so cold our sweat - from sex - froze on the roof of the van. In the morning, when it got warm, our sweat dripped down on us. Her acute nakedness, supple majesty. Inkling. He actually believed in white mice soaked in champagne. Ruined with a cleaver - like the ole ones. Arrogant, shocked, impressed by pungencies.

Get ready to resolve the ends of all your characters. For once, death comes with terrible excitement. Vent. Bent. My famous friend. In the tropical city, unexplainably, they are all preoccupied with grammar. The big bonfire is in the hill, not on the hill, lit by the kill.
He hit his horse on the head with a waxed branch. Why? Discord. Syntax. We stabbed the horses with white pickets. Made them a fence.
All hackles raised. Many experiments
She is quasi-normal, but I still haven't discovered the purpose of having a one-of-a-kind dress. She took the trouble to destroy what I noticed. Every sentence, a Known-New contract I make with an audiece. The audience stands on the roofbeams. The story is meant to blow them off into the ocean. It's painful to see how faulty all this is. It's hard to see why I put so much energy into learning sign language. The ink dries in the glass. Now, I can't use it. I obtain the impression of her delicate feet, three. Her toes do not curl when vaunted. Her violent misuse of the dress. Repetition is what I thereby sacrificed. Fyce. Howlings. Billows. The spithead. She is a spithead, one I don't want to see again. The last of which: dressed. The former: deceased. The second to last: surveyed three times, hopefully.

The anglers, again, caught nothing but sand dabs.