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  • At this stage in my life, my poor gulliver is forming fewer and fewer new synapse connections.

    Archive 2007-01-01

  • All round my gulliver was a bandage and there were bits of stuff like stuck to my litso, and my rookers were all in bandages and like bits of stick were like fixed to my fingers like on it might be flowers to make them grow straight, and my poor old nogas were all straightened out too, and it was all bandages and wire cages and into my right rooker, near the pletcho, was red red krovvy dripping from a jar upside down.

    Where's the show?

  • But, I must say that you're not obligated to read YRHT, or tire your gulliver speculating about how I viewed the Lewinsky scandal in the nineties.

    Your Right Hand Thief

  • But the throb and like crash crash crash in my gulliver and the wanting to be sick and the terrible dry rasping thirstiness in my rot, all were worse than yesterday.

    Where's the show?

  • When the last one had slouched out, his rookers hanging like an ape and the one warder left giving him a fair loud tolchock on the back of the gulliver, and when I had turned off the stereo, the charlie came up to me, puffing away at a cancer, still in his starry bogman's platties, all lacy and white like a devotchka's.

    Where's the show?

  • They like tol - chocked me into the back of this auto, and I couldn't help feeling it was all really like a joke, and that Dim anyway would pull his shlem off his gulliver and go haw haw haw.

    Where's the show?

  • I was howling too and like yawing about and I banged my gulliver smack on the hall-wall, my glazzies being tight shut and the juice astream from them, very agonizing.

    Where's the show?

  • Then one very thin starry professor type chelloveck stood up, his neck like all cables carrying like power from his gulliver to his plott, and he said:

    Where's the show?

  • I lay all nagoy to the ceiling, my gulliver on my rookers on the pillow, glazzies closed, rot open in bliss, slooshying the sluice of lovely sounds.

    Where's the show?

  • When I opened up he came shambling in looking shagged, a battered old shlapa on his gulliver, his raincoat filthy.

    Where's the show?


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  • "Head" (Russian origin)in Nadsat (literary lingo from A Clockwork orange).

    January 7, 2009