Friday, October 29, 2010

defend us from the phromaglynn

Zogmunckey didn't return from the Catableps? What was the 'orizontal spoon? Can I be a sheep? Can I trade a sheep for a moose? And what of the Monmouth Mongeeses? Are they even allowed in Drydgebellow-on-Strunn? Were the cantilevers like a bridge to the remember factories or did the grain of sand cereal not include a free toy? Such questions like this do not haunt me at night. Telling the tale of the madman and the ant? The Heegner number and the CW complex.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

skene arbuthnot

ANQUILA: But think of the wonderfloonts!

ASPERALDI: The wonderfloonts have no mustard!

ANQUILA: And I suppose so does Oggpongkoa?

ASPERALDI: Oggpongkoa is silent, speechless, reigning in unprofundity

ANQUILA: Do the birds twitter, do the bees google?

ASPERALDI: These things are not as a gargarice, a mouthwash, a priory, a backstabbing elemental. Ask not of them, they do not curry favor with the elementals.

ANQUILA: Then who does the sea froth for?

ASPERALDI: The sea froths for no one, nor do the stars foam for us; Such things are the warp and wooft of the world. 

ANQUILA: Will the heavens defend us?

ASPERALDI: Not from ourselves.

ANQUILA: All hope is lost! We are become our mothers!

ASPERALDI: Only if we have become our hamsters.

ANQUILA: But the ribald sconces do not betroth us to such monoliths!

Sunday, October 17, 2010

staring at the sky, madness in my eye.

The Icthyyud contemplates, withdraws its energies into a small fibril of a Antaglan Goat, flies around on a neutrino whose wavefunction is oscillating, and generally not making much of a nuisance of itself, diffracts off a virtual muon in some low probability feynman diagram somewhere not twelve kiloparsecs from Foofaraw junction, splits infinitives once thought impossible, and generally doesn't know what the whelk it's doing. The Icthyyud lies dormant in an unresearched gerbe aeon by damned aeon, content in some high whittled knowledge and not on speaking terms with alef-12. Some virtumaceous claugns iffer frothingly, but the Icthyyud crosses its arms (or what it has that passes for arms) like the grand Akimbo Bimbo of Blothyugn, Naratquad Parsimmina. The Ichthyyud is massless, imaginary, effervescent, and perhaps not the best witness to long term high planning cosmic affairs, for it regards them as folly: only mere motes demand much attention by the Icthyyud: for it certain Planck intervals are desirably favorable to experience, but others are shunned for their loathsome disregard for the Icthyyud's nigh inexpressible aesthetic moieties.

Tuesday, October 05, 2010

questions, questions

The experimentation is a dense machinery. What is the story you wish to tell in neutrinos? Shall the riboflavin god be appeased?