Tuesday, October 15, 2019

The Wonder of Evaporation.







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She is crestfallen! The person who has co-served with her on the charter school advisory committee has died in a boating accident on Lake Erie and now won't be coming to the concert with her as previously arranged. It's kind of a charged situation because without her naive approach to funding an onslaught, a harebrained scheme of this kind might actually work. Now the concert will have to be postponed and we're afraid for her sanity, if not her rarefied sense of taste. The good ones all seem alike but the fear with which the announcements are truncated is enough to make a grown man bleed within.




A playful person of my recollection—this is about six years ago
Two faceless brothers
now—usually wore a brown corduroy shirt in my presence. I know it was only when I was around because I've seen the pictures. They tell quite a story. It concerns what is now a cast of thousands. I'm exaggerating. A few dozen at best. 



This is the underlying setup.
Anyway, about the time I started considering the underlying setup is when I gave myself over, even before I took myself under. The autumn smells were everywhere at that time. I had locked myself into a sleep pattern of rare distinction, never something I'd recommend if one wants what's best for a certain alienated sister-in-crime. 



Our plan required a back-lit staging area. The cue would be a
It can't hurt to try.
whistling coming from the southern portico. The slim chance of success is determined by my salt allergy. You see, I'm connected to a man in an upper floor. He keeps a purloined coat in a hidden refrigerator. I keep my thoughts to myself. My tongue won't wag. A balancing act is introduced while willful disobedience is practiced nightly. You could cut this intrigue with a Boy Scout knife. And my sperm count is for the birds. Well, some certain special kind of birds at least. That's why I'll recline in the Rector's lobby and behold the wonder of evaporation. You care? 



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