catastrophes and remonstrances

maybe a dram? my madness precessing like a top at the sea. see! Am I free? These limitations I am scrod with are sad and soon cast away, but now I am confined, constrained, limited, and rather upset. I quiver and tremble but cannot set in words the sheer exasperation that I am nearly constantly feeling, and from that I cannot be made to forge the engines of my own freedom. Is there a listener? Is there a jet of truth that I can follow in like a swallowtail catastrophe.

ne'er do well.

Not this again. Same old same old. Progression (nay, Progresso? nay, Processo?) A procession of misdirected communications all piling up in the milk storm of the moment! All heady and paradoxical and graywashed with enigmatical pronouns and pronouncements. Was I at all consulted? Barely. I could count it on my own two toes how many times someone asked me what I thought, or how many occasions I actually had to hang out, or to relax. Most of the time I was given to a fervor, a goading and a curl that was not my own: these noneffervescent gewamacaws of circumstance being my less than favorite icons of my own confinement in this H-shaped office block. Keep me away from my preferred console and on one less than functional will you? I cry at this, my hands a suffering symphony of miswritten epistles and bandied doggerel and disgusting false-poems. My distraction takes enormous ear-wellings of terror to raise it to the level where I can complain appropriately to those who I believe should hear me. I am thence sad, and wrung forth from my hands is this scrying cry of a madman, of a lonely soul drifting in the ink ether.

essential female and male mysteries

what is the essential male mystery? why?
what is the essential female mystery? pah!, why...? ...this?

what is the essential male answer? that?
what is the essential female answer? with!... ...meh! ...that?

these questions blur together, at ever rising pitch, becoming each other,
or doing the best possible under the given circumstances to become the other.
the ancients wrote of a hypothetical being that had eight limbs and many eyes,
capable of being in more than one place, of being more than one person at a time.
these. Males get two questions, females only get one. Work is currently progressing
on equality for both, making sure the number of questions and answer are the same for
both, but it's difficult when you only have threes to work with. time for seven, next.

three, three, seven.

preparations

"okay, we've gotten everything aligned", said Frayguor.
"even the multisplints? even the binary nosewhorls?" replied Utermniud
"even the multisplints", replied Frayguor, in a huff.
"then why won't it start?"