this week i

knocked albert royer's door, just looking for someone to thank on marco's behalf.  islamic seaside cemetary post pasteur, i impersonated discobolus

watched mangrove..

the system crooked as a damn ram's horn

the botheration continue and continue

 ..lover's rock


don't even know no one
so what, you nah know me?
i don't know you
what ah you? eh?  what, the dance no sweet?  my breath not fresh?
yeah, but you pile on the aftershave, innit?  come like pepe le pew.  what's that?  brut tirty tree?
your right now blood clot.  give i ah next dance


read l. frank baum's the wonderful wizard of oz, wicked witch of the west defeated same as aliens from signs

"there is only one thing in the world i am afraid of."

"what is that?" asked dorothy; "the munchkin farmer who made you?"

"no," answered the scarecrow; "it's a lighted match"

"but that isn't right.  the king of beasts shouldn't be a coward," said the scarecrow.

"i know it," returned the lion, wiping a tear from his eye with the tip of his tail.  "it is my great sorrow, and makes my life very unhappy.  but whenever there is danger, my heart begins to beat fast."

"perhaps you have heart disease," said the tin woodman

one by one the mice came creeping back, and toto did not bark again, although he tried to get out of the woodman's arms, and would have bitten him had he not known very well he was made of tin

he seized his axe, which he had made very sharp, and as the leader of the wolves came on the tin woodman swung his arm and chopped the wolf's head from its body, so that it immediately died.  as soon as he could raise his axe another wolf came up, and he also fell under the sharp edge of the tin woodman's weapon.  there were forty wolves, and forty times a wolf was killed, so that at last they all lay dead in a heap before the woodman.

then he put down his axe and sat beside the scarecrow, who said, "it was a good fight, friend."

they waited until dorothy awoke the next morning.  the little girl was quite frightened when she saw the great pile of shaggy wolves

i was born in omaha

she kissed the tin woodman, who was weeping in a way most dangerous to his joints