deposit.five

Apparently, the End was Not Near
Member of city discovered walking around neighborhood where member lives, reaching for wallet, forgetting wallet was left at home, returning home, adjusting the plants, sitting until sunrise, considering what breakfast should look like today
Belinda, TX:

There was walking, there was gazing up at the moon,
Sure, shaken from rest by a bleary picture of lines
Smoother, fuzzier, and plenty of people to ask about.
Then that moon again in its over-wrought cleanliness.
As no hemorrhage ever occurs on the moon as it is
Self-correcting, horribly impossible to spoil
Or learn a thing about. It could do no wrong at all.
It couldn’t bust if dropped, failing to cry enough
To stock a thimble nor gag a tick. Its perfect is, too,
The over-wrought perfect watching of someone shower
Behind the frosted glass. You have nothing to do with it,
Is what I say perched on your banister, perched upon
Your rail, but what you would have been
Come some less healed season. That one in which I walked
Into your house on the crutch of reason gone to seed
And threw it there, right there in front of you
On the table where you have kept your books
Stacked like folded shirts as long as I can remember.

It was reported this member of the city has lived in this city for longer than this member thought. More as the failure of the End develops. Back to You.

Clippings (the End is Not Near)

With the opening of the last bundle of newsprint, a dispersal of air begins to show off around the perimeter. Jokes are bad for the next 24 hours, but we tell them all.

We surmise that the End is Not Near and, frightened of our own boredom, dedicate ourselves its acceleration.

We work out.

deposit.four

Present, FL. Polls reveal that WE are brought to the present by enhancement of pleasure, what a comment. WE, of National Wildlife and Fishery WE CORP., are brought to the present by pleasure in a cinching, by stimuli outside procreative driving ranges. For WE, married at the wedding chapel i.e. crumpling under the tasers of WE HAS SENTIMENTS ABOUT LIFE, all space outside procreative acts (TO FUCK, or, TO MAKE PAPERS OCCUR, or, TO GET YOUR DRIVER'S LICENSE et al) is space zoned for PRESENCE PLEASURES TO BE ENHANCED BY ORGANIC TASER-ACTION. Like stabbing a barnacle with a fork over and over, a fluid's personal gush occurs when THE PAST and THE FUTURE just get tired of being stabbed over and over and stop laying eggs. For WE, the PLEASURE is tantamount to the infertility of things like THE PAST and THE FUTURE which don't exist. Please refer to our HABITS MANUAL segment of the ABSOLUT MARRIAG ARRANGEMENTS WITH Mr. LIFE handbook, particularly cf. "Tasers" (appendix) or the "cigarette umbrellas" block of the glossary.