of sleep

a fierce zephyr of chance tore the fundament of the Char-Arrhenge. It was the syllable of Tern, and the manganese pluralities were resplendent in the languages of Honvoril. The Andyvel had been sleeping for well on thirty thousand plurisubkalpa and were expected to maintain their snooze for another nine thousand manganars, notwithstanding the Trident of Cenos. I, at the time, had vowed that I would maintain my dormancy for another twelve mahakalpa, but events in an adjacent thylakoid would extend my rest for at least a mahanahambe. The rising of the stalks, the linearization of the Cancalla, the lemon guilds of Tersoris and Nanniquat enduring another Great Fructicient Insult from the Prince of Astralapsis, an unexpected migration of the Besselnefe of Tandrulis, and so on and so forth, the combined effect was that my somnolescent period was massively extended.

more of the dvorak zone composition

the lassitudinous creep. the crawl of the gorn. the smell of lemons, augmented by parabolic subgroups and then appliques detailing the fury which the average american ozonoscopist searches the british museum for mighty comfits and candygrammar. when everted and exposed to jazz music and tamborines the audacious tarmac encysts, preparing for ecdysis. a plantar pedicule then forms, trapping the nascent opera claw into a barstible and a Organ of New Hebrides, a chromosynthetic bioergiastic organ which composes chroma into stridently stored ergage. a largesse not ulcerative necessitates greening and unfurling of the main photon sieves. the long winter of my discontent then froths and macerates, leaving the cri du fromage loud and irritating to passing citizenry. Oh enthytimetic condors fly over the craton and leave epistles from the mad metafauna of Gondwanaland. The erratic and cantankerous child lasts for several minutes and is then calmed by its parents. A meretricious mercenary planning the drawbridge of the river Orinoco dun tablassars and the cream of the martin's follies might presunder the classification of the galactic collision, with metronomes and muon and plagioclase and amber prepared and readied for certain use by parties not known to the heteronymic Cressidon, the Alabaster Rat of Saint Tertius. My mynad delivered to me that arrival intimate and gleeful, a call of the wild the message of sublime oppression and urgent fortitude which, cougar and leaping
ibexes untied the syllabary for the prepared cheese plate and arrayed rainbows in an unplanned
celebration of most transparent magnitude. By the precession of the oryxes and the sublimation of a block of specially prepared carbon dioxide cheese made by the vice regent chef of Cahiers did my major worries dissolve into the fluents of the great steam stream surrounded by rocks and other various geological ambigua. Whetstone gnarled and pretended that the major Whorl -- not the Great Whorl of Whyster, but the subsidiary Whorl of Tantinigires, along the shore of the Cetterderes, ululated the swan song of the central tergiviseration of the pelargonide generalissima making the chert and feldspar tasteless and hydrogen-fast. Tell them, she said, tell them about the hypernetwork, the gaseous and interminaquiline matrix of rich and redolent cross connections. Cordon off that Great Loneliness and make it manifest while surgeries to retopologize the reticulated inserrat transpire. Shosh the filaments together.

Irrigate the central tentacle

more theory firmament candelabra engine fury matrix metasyntax selective isometries endanger the ribald allocations and engender chaos in the gazebo like no one could have guessed as the major networker storm collided with the lemon curry howard isomorphism make the whealgrove commutator lessen the impact of the hardened radiant glee. The frogs are standing waves of probability, measured Lesbeguely and post haste Riemannianly oh there was chaos my doula had a boil and the boil had boll weevils and the doctors were most disgusted by it all. The message that was contained in an envelope concerned the execrable exegesis that the graduate student had written concerning the juxtaposition of multilayered fauna with degenerate and defunct nineteenth century French Philosophy, a most grave and serious matter that must be attended by all manner of madmen and wildebeests. A misty, vaporous, nacreous, luminescent, piece of lint registered its disregard for the semantic ambiguity and subsequently squirrelled itself away inside the cambium of a pine tree. Truant swamps and outevolved lemmings transferred their manner of stuff to the secondary and tertiary epochs, using Tensorwright brand time machines to traverse the stormy chronoscape. London metal and gallium sugar made
the trip most enviable, and the archkineticists organizing the whole affair were amply rewarded with ten thousand wonzlos sterling a-piece.

upgraded

Resoul that old computer -- change its parts and change its responsiveness. Today I installed a 500 gig disk on my main machine

some theoretical wiz-baz

The metafunctor of the third variety is gourd shaped and green when ripe. It is found along the coast of the continent of Tellerephonda in the Third Thylakoid of the Rellenders. It becomes gravid during the season of the Asinditars and floats away during the Season of the Static Hidden Spanish Television Channel. The scion of the metafunctor then emerges while it is in hysteresis and the fifth moon of the Blannak is paused. The scion then subdivides to produce the antecedant Inion of Stallaran, the Pheenge of Ixion, and the Bastaragandin of Leishmirin. All of which then recombine into a hybrid ceramo-metallic structure exactly one point four millihelens in beauty. The structure then internally reorganizes into a quasibiological part, a wholly organic part, and a wholly inorganic part. At this point the entire structure is called a Queasyfungus. The Queasyfungus then expands its thallus and hybridizes with any landborne philosophical concepts it can find.

never stake the xenon butler on waxed stilton

shadows of later make the meninges furl and the brows burst forward with furrows, furiously defending the bladderwort from perihelion and making the many tongued red tensor flows cough and sputter like the late bloomers that they were. Oh, the green silent ridges between the machines and the monstrosities made my eyes ache and my head whirl: when was the greatest fascination with the eyewheels of the Tsauraung people of the Valley of the Umbral Coffee, oh, the waiting was fastidious and misengineered, the bitter filament of vapor tasted like licorice and the iron plated eyes of the mad robot Morzepan made life and rusticant somewhat rhumb-scarred in comparison. This was the start, the invocation and seventy two rounds of prayer, of fourty seven syllables all in disarray -- the arrangement of syllables did not matter, but their rhythmic repetition by the monks of moo made the tea ceremony tolerable. Chance and Vortex suddenly and shockingly, and perhaps if one might make too fine a point of it, rudely intervened with a thunder and lightening show the likes of which the deity Lord Govvorongoa hadn't seen for at least several millikalpas now, a long stench and a gravid gray green gyroscope dancing and pirouetting lazily against the sunlit and moonlit half-night, the major marker of the nistral episodes and the caretaker's personal collection of apropos wiz-baz was certainly permitted but it was only vacuously denied and by the frothingly obvious statements of the Candec and their Sirvinculi was the resolvent sugar splutter approbriously determined and extangency mated.

line engine kinetic sculpture

the dark times were shortening, becoming tenuous and dusty, composed of many motes, and uncertain of future movement. the leaning, leading garnishes were dusted with garlic and celerity, the gravity was uncertain, the lemon of the metacosmos was tumbling around in curcuminacreant glee as the paracytologically inhibited martindale of the leaf-sheaves rotated to the beat of the cosmic harmonies, a sound like a deep hum or the sound of one thousand twenty four butterflies flapping their wings in unison, or to some hidden pattern not obvious to any observer, anywhence and anywhere. The leading rational affliction that divided the seeming from the unseen made the irony abundant and transparent in character. I savored the moment, each appealingly more determined than the previous moment, more complex in motion and stranger in organization, the parameters and functional dependencies enfolding and becoming ever more complex: that I was already familiar with -- the holy momentous occasion hit at the start of the third nahambe, with a clarion call of fusing hydrogen nuclei bursting forth and the wave upon wave of neutrinos emerging. Suddenly that monarch butterfly pauses on a dewdrop and the single metamomentous transfiguration orrery occurs and where were you the show just got interesting now they've moved from trying to occupy as many points of physical space to a vast sea of ideas, thoughts, concepts, the realm of the mind, the tip of the proverbial iceberg, that odd littile transition which when fully orchestrated en masse can leave h random primate species or proteinaceous globule on the Great Migration from here to there.

Grand Mal

Cycads and doronadrils accosted the interior minister as the procession of liminal luminaries occurred and occluded visibility for hundreds of miles and kilometers. The go getter attitude of the Generalissima's staff was that anyone sufficiently lunatic to accompany should be fed poor quality fast food and donuts instead of health food, and as none of the luminaries was that healthy anyway, there wouldn't be much need to institute Individualized Dietetic Plans while the procession was transpiring. Instead they would take positions in the sidelines and jeer as much as possible. The luminaries were an arrogant sort and wouldst not mind this kind of low-jinks. I had my place at the vice-minister of stale crumpets side, and there I would remain until relieved by another attendant or a royal lunatic observationalist. But november comes soon and because the general flavor of the gerania is not to the liking of most of the lunatic luminaries, as well as the scent of roboclone martindales (whatever the heck those are -- nobody wants to admit to knowing what they are.)

Another Bad Idea: The Atomic Toothpick

The scrambled communications line, the ice crystal, gravitational attraction between two solid bodies in free space, and many others, such are the breakthroughs of Lenzler Laboratories. Lenzler laboratories is proud to announce the invention of a revolutionary new form of atomic powered toothpick. A fantastic invention that will solve all your toothpicking needs. The result of work on the atomic match, the atomic toothpick allows extraprecise food debris elimination, which means cleaner teeth and healthier dental checkups.

the starking of the water.

The arrhengterrapongorin is not specified by the first arch-gulfing or the second or even the nth -- it isn's specified by a unique one either. It is instead implicit in the conditions and the wistful hopes of the impossible dream, the motion on the dreamtime that the freeling of ether-monads makes patently visible through their common comminution, the continuous ravine between two plateaux of consciousness and the summa theologica that occurs with the transcendant feeling that one is evolving, not at the particular states of individual organism or genome but of the interpolated continuity of motion of form and formlessness that marks the gray areas between genotype and phenotype. The amazing ellision that transpires in the meiotic cauldron, never answerable nor answering to an authority, an accidental taciturn pause in the machinery of life. My arrhengterrapongorin may be entirely different than yours.

autumnal vertiginy

The leaflet "how to protect your dog from trapezoids and other parasites" was released by a high altitude plane over Toronto during one of the most abysmal times: an all out, no sense but the best nonsense, culture war. Okay, if you want to call it a way, you can. I'd rather call it a kind of prolonged accident, the one with wings and a stellar burning vapor associated with it, you know, that kind of vapor you smell just as fall is beginning and people are starting to burn wood to keep warm. And it's been maybe not the best weather and you're considering moving to Florida or San Frangalis just to keep a nice winter home far away from the chill. The weather leaves a dry, almost alcoholic tang in your mouth, and all kinds of ridiculous sports games are on the television. The air smells dry and its been a while since the last precipitation that you can remember. A thin veil of winter air descends and the fireside alien is roasting marshmallows happily while you struggle to keep up with the ever increasing, ever incessant demands of your time made by shadows and substrates, made by ghosts and wraiths, all representing the gone world. Maple cider and whatnot, the chance of the changing of the seasons. The withering of leaves, the dessication and dust conversion of little scraps of formerly and recently photosynthetic tissue, an ore of carbon made from air, water, and light. It's a few billion years after the first filamentous masses of cyanobacteria began emitting toxic oxygen. And the thin sunset peaks of the moon and the thin fibers of the sun intersect in their rabidly obscurescent dance of the seasons, with that magic in the air and that feeling of degenerating leaves and maybe some itinerant hope hiding under the sea charred air, the coming of one of many transitional magics, only a few of which are known well, and fewer still that are practiced appropriately. The set sun says the sky is dark and frosty, and the air says nothing save the whooshing noises it makes as it sways and waves.

dvorak, wrong and odd.

Malthusian paper ant you say. Mages a plenty and enough room to spare in the noggin! My thinketer malfunctions and they're these wordlings are exudated or mend and wend through space like a thick tricky twister. Only an approval could make it worse, only the approval of the vice minister and company. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tertevian, I hope that you find your accommadations acceptable. What's that? A soup has landed in green pastures up in the Northern Abyss? I should jolly well hope so. For if it doesn't live up to expectations for the party of three I suppose we'll quit and carry the item off and be done with the electric laser weasels. It worries me, Mr. Tertevian, this feeling, this zeitgeist makes me all uncertain in feeling and all troubadoresque in manner and neither of these things I enjoy being. I have made my grand issues one of foundational concern, not for the sublime neither for the daft or the transparent. Rubbit out! The methodical application of various techniques of reasoning is of greater concern to me than the results of applying them. I am a confused person and revel in the candor or the condor of the seeds of misapprehension and blurriness that I plant.

a titled post is not this one

Varnish the metabolic itinerary and waste the methodical application of the transmagnetic donut. The lemon of Saxony is frighteningly wacky and chances are that the menhirs that were strangely associated with the well were seen to be cougars and wildebeest as well as an assortment of a wide variety of other critters, all of which were viewed as vexing and paradoxical in character, The somnolescent lavado of the brednans and the tensorgiastic rhamny of the chicanery of the chirugeon means that the message which this bureau processed in four in time made the gas pedal distort its readings and led to massive internecine miscommunication. The blarblers and the wrenxvrunculini have different and diffemorphic agendas, none
of which they are willing to talk to us directly about. Instead their language is one of spares hops, of blinking alliterative phraseologies, of chaotic tendrils and deep crimson indigo patina on solid red metal.

By happy at henhecn ati hde hditd hdah man nai, ronfuse the methodical madness and warble the juxtaposed interrelevant teleology begin the tensor nostral rostrum meticulous method and master
the ream of instruction manual like the good doctor recommends. The message is the chaos is the translation is the function of the byways and the lethargy is the component that exudes the notion
that emotion is the cancer that catalyzes the anger that is the method. The interrogation is
complete and exclusive, with parts being written in a language that there is no present translation
for. Because of this asymmetry, I must make do mustering my lamination and my stalks and my chances
like the delirious and many splintered accidental cheese monster and the excitement manages
to creep in unseen and falls over unceremoniously during the first quarter and at this point the
metamatrique of the telafin at the border crossing make their reasoning widely known and
common knowledge we can say that the scary robotic feel that the wards feel is not due
to some disease or other pathological condition that has its roots in the utter chaos of the
situated Quark bar and that the xerological feeling that one might feel at the stem altar might be
justified for a change,

Lethargy liberal limerick gasher jackal lamination samadhi astral lancer coordinated damnation
as the astral lamina macerates under the influence of the beanstalk and the drapes have their
shadows approximated and proportioned by the juxtaposed interreferenda make the feeling I'm
having now livid and yellow in nature while not pausing in mainly free gandalf from the monsters
and maybe the message that meant to emerge from the cosmic egg might not be ignored this time.
How things have chased and wandered in momenta and position, how the cosmic lunacy has
traipsed and transmogrified in so short a time, how it is that all is dissolved in a thin layer of jam,
and that's not counting the mile high metallic sculpture which was recently installed at the residence
of one Jenglefroth Lapparonian, an inveterate maze twister and puzzle solver extraordinaire, a jarring
experience to say the least, but the experience that one has in the vortex fold often leaves on feeling like that they should encounter the mysterious vapor column again, with all its varied topological smoke and distorted fields.

archgulfing the polymeric sun-moon

Vurch thy vonfriegan in the divisor table of Wallus! Monochemona and Walsis, Kelor and Dinidirang. A fourth of scotch and a fifth dram of the chaotic in tertiary waltz! Oh the parsippany, the parsimony, the parsley, and the unparsed gray green gray's goose wayzsgoose statement table to metabulate. Oh Ohonckoa by the notice of guitar grault and selminiferous corge! The maxillary andropause for the sine and cosine of covoniers! The expression of the metamud metamuter. The lalr generator, the cons cell extrusionistas gathering by the beta-gamma reductase comet impact site in Tunguska-Loosa, readying for a Krakatoaesque blaserblosion! Oh, fudgesicles and fin-de-siecles, the readying disaster-trophy of the malmisinclined, the proprietary nose-baz interfaces sold at the bazaar by less than reputable salesman, of many a clone of Arthur Miller proferred by the quarter man (full power, the biggest fish in the sea). I stood for something in that age, that era, that aeon. The fifty fourth segment of Heraklitus says that the Aeon is a child playing with colored balls. Are they juggling self-transforming transbiological machine elves or are they just strange salesman married to infinitesimal noncommutative polyhedra. I can't answer that, having never lived at Foofaraw junction or Corrohence. My answers to the questions about the propellers were rejected on by
the erratic reasoning of a dimble-straw, an arch-rhombohedral kineticist of Yourghk, a plan without a woman, or man, or straw-feline to lead it into the next time index. The Ollohimbean
stark-carsting that made the whole endeavour worthwhile, the thin gray metallic stalk made from pure Planck gas connecting the quantum mechanical indra's net one to another. Surgery on the local ones is in order I hear. Someone with specially muted senses with active genes in both the post Kardashev 33 region and copied from a time-displaced Wiwaxia and Hallucinogenia are required. This wiz-baz makes me wheeze. All these strange topological machinations requires to cleave one world from another just leave me at the seat of my nasal phalanges. Of course, it could all go wrong leaving us stranded here for another 10^33rd of an aeon, and if that comes to pass we might choose long term hibernation. But such is the dreamstuff of araglyphs and dusty desert menhirs, the tales of wood machines and headache gods, the pulsating peramplification and perambulation of the discontinuum, the buried geese of Yonkers, the time ridden wait of the burred silver convectionary which is our joy to imbibe after tea. Or maybe so!

chronotomes.

it doesn't take a mechanical reductase and two dimes bit a milliparsec to grok that things are crazy-odd, the color of the sun is green, the sky is red and the grass is blue and the street-mart seller has plastic wrapped permutation groups for sale. there's a trapezoidal vapor slowly drifting over the horizon and you haven't seen an Eddie Murphy movie in a metanahambe, and the plutonian steam hockey scores are twelve to two in the fourth quarter. the violinists are protesting the string tax and the cellists have ascended in the governmental fugu-fugue states. the arch-fluorinologist of Maryland has descended into the arms of the bourgeoise. Well, let me not tell you: the sand grain numbered 10,204,201,102 in the Sahara just spontaneously achieved Nirvana, sending ripples of energy across the desert, with thousandfold of athousandfold gigajoules of energy spontaneously released and echoing furiously throughout the desert and in local weather systems. a violent cavalcade of muons, neutrinos, languages, celery stalks, belief systems impacted in more ways than I can count. Oh god. Oh dear. Oh beards! Watching the pulse deepen and broaden as more sand grains achieve nirvana and vanish? croatoanize? go elsewhence? the gone world! definitely relativistic in character and not willing to let their secrets go simply. a little mote of silicon dioxide no longer subject to perception or sensate luxury. Oh, the pallid chronotome(*), the metallic glint of the orreries



*(a note on transcendental units of time: in elsewhence proper (that's exterior hyperborea for you lot in Foofaraw junction and New Jersey) time is measured is generally measured in nahambes, with a millinahambe being 1/1024 of a nahambe (they work in powers of two). the transcendental extensions of a nahambe are the metanahambe and the mahanahambe. -- these compare favorably to kalpas, a frequently inaccurate though unfortunate transcendental unit of time that is frequently used in the post-Gondwanaland epoch tables. Regrettably karma isotope decay times are highly inaccurate because they were written by political artists rather than analysts. a mahakalpa roughly corresponds to the duration of one planck time. a metakalpa is the best unit for times which are shorter than one planck time -- that is to say that times shorter than one planck time can only be measured reasonably with the conventional unit of a metakalpa. the nahambe is more accurate than the metakalpa, but it is less applicable to sub-planck times because of its transcendental character. a metanahambe is sufficient for an exhaustively large subset of the orthoquine event spaces, and a mahanahambe is a sufficiently corrugated and gnarled nahambe that within one, all that is recurrent can be said to recur)

nectar of the odds

the acrid oxytangent of the exhilarated endive birefringes during the intensity of Gangerinar. in the first phase the sylleptic transformation begins to emit various microparticles, many of which defy description, but most of which defy Queen Taxonomia's attempts to classify them. The Queen Taxonomia, one Thortensia Andulanar, is deniably quite mad. She flits from microparticle to microparticle, attempting to name them."This one is Kelson-4,4-metamerase-Philganaus" she says. "This one is 2-alpha-Thyrontifar-1,5,N,N-chromase", she keeps this up twenty two hours a day. It doesn't help that she's two trillionths of a meter in length at her maximum diameter or her brain is exactly 2 gigaparsecs in radius. (an explanation of how this paradoxical situation can occur was ellided from the latest edition of "Mad Monarchs and Their Ways Magazine", which usually focuses on Geo-Oblong monarchs and their dynarchies. in the transrheotropic secondary phase, the internal geometry usually undergoes a complete reorganization, where most of the internal motions are recompensated for by macroscope butterflies undergoing migration from the Great Here to the Great Here. Most of them are named for monoids. exegrata is the third phase, and during it the most amazing transformation never occurrs.

questions of chromokinetics

the chromokinetic school (SE 102,401-130,401) believed that all was light in motion, and that matter was frozen light. they had developed quite intricate methods for transfiguring light between its nonmotile (matter) and motile (flowing) forms. these methods were impounded when the Duchess of Vraktom ascended to power in SE 130,400, and all traces of their existence were destroyed by the Beadle of Vronsek in SE 130,401. Since this time, many have attempted to reengineer the methods of the chromokinetic school with little success: the Beadle of Vronsek's lieutenants were exorbitant and meticulous in their destruction of all extant copies of the fundamental equations of the chromokinetic school, and the perpetual imprisonment of those remaining chromokineticists. not bad for something that lasted twenty eight thousand years.

nothing to say, not yet, not ever, never, nowhere, now here.

the interior core means that the traversal of the metanode will be made by the next higher order kertetheron process: the choice is in the node asymmetry and in the nuance and the timbre of the upstream processes that can be selected by invoking a preferences pane in the nethermenu: the bombast of the selection makes for entertaining etiological activity; not the vacuous wishes of princes nor neither the broadcast scones of the cosmic illusion, maya, when primates say that they want eons of time to pass in an instant, they redress their memories and recapitulate their phylogeny in a peculiar oar scented fashion wintergreen nicitating membranes and pause for the question that those...

the argument of the dithyrians

Nogothyras of the Keldran Dithyrian colony suggests that the ghostly lemurs at midnight are the reason that the Belzheim corridor has been poorly populated in recent months. I suggested that this assertion was specious though I didn't provide much in the way of evidence of my belief. Now I think I have a better counterargument but the ghostly lemurs have chosen the token labeled "correlation doesn't equate to causation"

perforated transformative gunderschleisse

The kinetic artist was uncertain that the spirit of the age would be terribly fair to the approximations that she wished to employ: it was the year 201,321 of the Gelen Epoch, approximately one thousand two hundred metanahambes before the ascension of Stult Junzis the Misbegotten, and Van Starling still lived in the prefecture of Jeongle, in Cirappan. I was a fifth vice-wombat of the anti-Belgian squad of the district and we'd just led some exercises in detaining rogue Belgian academics as they were used in academic treatise writing sweatshops in the prefectures of Hxun and Jzallilary and I was most miffed that the one half dram of caffeine I had that day had coffee in it. It was not my funereal waltz into the ethereal but a rather rust ridden arroyo of misprocessed cheese. Consequentially I wanted to take a break and spray the paper with the seeds of disaster but I was going to wait and worry as my teammates practiced in a particularly dangerous cow-eversion exercise that involved the use of military-grade topological tweezers and ten meter long liquid lunches (several of these exercises had been so deranged that they had produced immortal cows)