What about the angels and their mouths and their gastrointestinal burbling? What about wise madness and unhappy families, ripeness and readiness all and whirl being king?

The stranded cat syndrome in a dog-hump-bigger-dog world. The skeleton key of the Round C participation preference. The absence of low irreducible error high valence problems.

The man who shot liberty valence. The violence at the core of the American project. The American experience. The American musk ox. The musky flim flam artist who makes of a Ponzi a golden goose. The deadwood sheriff who promises to help with the fall to make the death come more quickly. The death that becomes her. The death that becalms the Roman road and the Damuscan one that gives rise to world building. The world builds and poetry in Greek is a pillar. A soft down pillow into which are uttered so many now I lay me down to sleeps. A monomaniac about the meta. A Barthelmean splendor, in which anxiety is the truer North than absurdity, but not at first glance, maybe, or at least not until a reader has suffered a tragedy. First time tragedy second time farce, third time impasse.

Hence the apotheosis. And the teleology. And the man at the end of the bar whose liver is not ever going to be transplanted. as to which is the major thesis and which is the annihilating absence by which it may be synthesized, your guess is good as what mine would have been if I stooped to playing guessing games. The darkness lifted when I stopped clinging so close to the torn flapping sail at the top of the mast.

What about - still, even now - what about the angels and their mouths and their gastrointestinal burbling? What consecrates wise madness and smokes out unhappy families, what is left after ripeness and readiness all and whirl being king?