arrow over january

8/365 by Tim Caynes

why’s there a line through that week when it only starts on monday and goes through to thursday really am I to expect that another collective wik will be dumped on the unsuspecting lead roofs of midland ferries while I trundle a 3-wheeled embarrassment of a slide projector into the calamity of 101 and mumble something about tractors on the 140 before you can say text variable widget parameter and I’ve generated a lonesome withering dolt of an oaf that dribbles back and forth across the very fabric of time until I lurch to a halt by the newsagent and get funnelled into the paygate like I’m expected to sit with a monkey for the next 4 hours, whooping about his virtual desktop. if they paid you to do it you’d never be as good as you are but there’ll always be someone for whom the bell that tolls of trolls will never be loud enough.

nefarious market voles might take umbrage at the continual misery of 10 o’clock tolling whence the straight fringe of white city pouts the graphs of apocalypse while my grapes get warm in the hands of a clot but since when a darkness befell the lcd of hades and twas finally secured the relief of the fallen-headed doubter of the endless journey that the miracle of beginning came upon the limp fetid balloon of the first phase of part 2. it’ll not be finished by then, marking my words with a pencil. but you never said we would get to the end only that we’d get past the beginning which is where I plan to have been. enough said about the labours of wordsmiths and the interactions of the half-willed suffice to say I’ll have a 17 plus please mate and where’s he gone now I need to get this flaming thing done today.

you can’t get the staff.


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