tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52827552011-10-10T13:05:25.806-07:00The DinghyThe DinghyKelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.comBlogger741100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1152672955516741222006-07-11T19:36:00.000-07:002006-07-11T19:55:55.560-07:00Midfall Tuesday night, and the wicked crickets are dancing their jokey jigs all around me.Yes, my automobile has fallen into disrepair. Yes, we stand stranded high atop this hill upon the horrible highway.Yes, the ball bearings could no longer bear the weight of the awful axes, the stupid seats, the hideous hood and the grinding gearshifts. And no, I could not help but bawl, when the ball gave Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1152671727873026452006-07-11T19:30:00.000-07:002006-07-11T19:35:27.883-07:00Back. In black.The monochromatic monotony of it all is exciting.And exhilirating.GOODBYE.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1132114070582535742005-11-15T20:00:00.000-08:002005-11-15T20:07:50.596-08:00The days drip out, one dropping on top of the other on top of the other on top of the lawn.This morning, after punctiliously shining my cordovan loafers with urine and ketchup-stained napkins, I made my way to the microregion's wonderful wading hole for a bracing dose of aquatic exercise.The breaststroke--that most puerile of participations--was my cardiovascular endeavour of choice, due in the Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1131837487440351912005-11-12T15:17:00.000-08:002005-11-12T15:18:07.440-08:00I am happy to return. Herein, will much Monotony be embraced.HURRAH! HURRAH!Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1126580678642051822005-09-12T20:01:00.000-07:002005-09-12T20:04:38.646-07:00Today, Adelard of Bath and I ate a nice meal.We then perambulated the immediate vicinity in hopes of finding illicit characters selling big, bulky bags of their highly illegal wares.The trip, though unsuccessful, did yield some insight:When night begins, the hackles become infinitely more acute in their apprehension.This, we think, has great meaning vis-a-vis tedium and the Monotonous Life.Thank Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1126490262431987672005-09-11T16:42:00.000-07:002005-09-11T18:57:42.450-07:00Yes. The creeping continues. Long stretches of kvetching submitting (after so much time) to untimely bursts of voluminous retching. Headstands. Cartwheels. What punctuated and punctuates the utter monotony is not so much of interest in and of itself, but rather, it is a counterpoint to the flatness of the awful, though necessary, void. It is the blip (perhaps the cough?) that exists not at all Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1113783817292693382005-04-17T17:22:00.000-07:002005-04-17T17:23:37.293-07:00Norway!It is the only way.It is the only way.It is the only way.It is the only way.Yes.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1108954182396998052005-02-20T18:49:00.000-08:002005-02-20T18:49:42.396-08:00I am feeling ill today.I think it may have been the peanuts.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1099967432803571282004-11-08T18:14:00.000-08:002004-11-08T18:31:15.086-08:00Friends, The grey haze breaks today, filtered by the smog of this turd-herding blog and all that it stands for. Forgive me, please, for such an untoward outburst; I am feeling ill today. Today, the sun glinting cheerfully off my cordovan shoes, I ventured into our Microregion's city center on a shopping spree of a most pragmatical sort. The hated greengrocer and I greeted each other with our Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1099165185830544442004-10-30T13:29:00.000-07:002004-10-30T12:39:45.830-07:00Today, I shined my shoes with ketchup and urine-stained napkins. That is all. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1098929298084073822004-10-27T18:51:00.000-07:002004-10-27T19:09:53.870-07:00I will coagulate slowly, I assure you, if I do coagulate at all. My pace will be, pace conventional wisdom, turgid; my steps tentative and without logical plan or efficacious execution. My beginning will be abrupt, angry, bloody, fraught with longeurs, steeped in sophistry, hideous to behold and utterly compelling. From there I will proceed. I will track paths much taken, but I will do so in Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1097801978034217212004-10-14T17:50:00.000-07:002004-10-14T19:30:23.480-07:00What do we seek, friends, but Monotony? And how to obtain that Monotony but through the cultivation of Monotonous Acts? And so: we walk. We step. Step. Step. Step. We speak: Word. Word. Word. Word. We sit: Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. Creak. Silence. Silence. Silence. Silence. We chew: Raisin. Raisin. Raisin. Raisin. We sweat: Bead. Bead. Bead. Bead. All to the beat of the big, big Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1097717985609118932004-10-13T17:45:00.000-07:002004-10-13T18:39:45.610-07:00Today, I shined my cordovan shoes with urine and ketchup-stained napkins. Yes! Once again. Yes. I am feeling ill today. Wandering The Street of Ugly Curmudgeons that rings round the outer bounds of our Microregion's rankest sub-region, I stumbled upon a lorry driver with a most curious countenance. When I paused to examine the man and his ludicrous lorry, I could not help but note that he Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1096511376321891892004-09-29T19:22:00.000-07:002004-09-29T19:29:36.320-07:00Today, Vin Diesel and I took the big blue bus to our Microregion's most orange Home Depot store to examine the fieldstones. I refused a generous offer of an extensive line of credit upon entering the building, and proceeded to aimlessly amble the aisles while my companion tirelessly eyeballed the machines made to agitate paint. No other occurrences of note took place. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1094871544657421532004-09-10T19:30:00.000-07:002004-09-10T19:59:04.656-07:00Often, upon meandering the wordish wanderings of the intellectualities of Ultimate Progenitors other than our own, our ears stumble upon waxings of a "theoretical" or "philosophical" nature. And no! We do not run from the room when said lumpy, bumpy, and aesthetically pleasing thought-formations make their approach – as the human body yearns (so naturally) to do. No. Instead we funnel said Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1094609122485670842004-09-07T18:55:00.000-07:002004-09-07T19:05:22.486-07:001. What is all? 2. Whom should you love? 3. For what should we give thanks? 4. For how long, a goodbye? 5. How are you feeling today? These, and so many other questions, I ask myself on a daily basis. And, on a daily basis, I find myself, over and over, so hotly smote with the rote replies and inane rejoinders such queries unavoidably elicit. The rest is all hilarity. P.S. Today, upon the Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1092921599863259722004-08-19T06:14:00.000-07:002004-08-19T06:19:59.863-07:00This morning, I placed a bucket on my head, and engaged in a one-man Walk for Hunger down our Microregion's most noted thoroughfare. Upon reaching an Au Bon Pain, I terminated the Walk, and devoured a delicious salad. I then engaged in a one-man Walk for Sleep in the opposite direction down the very same thoroughfare. Upon reaching my home, I removed the bucket and contemplated that most Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1092012391680999662004-08-08T17:41:00.000-07:002004-08-08T17:46:31.680-07:00Today, I awoke to find myself covered in the worst sort of malodorousness. Yes! I performed half a dozen pull-ups, then retired the boudoir, if you know what I mean. And I think you do not. Thank you for your time. Embrace monotony. That is all. Goodbye. For ev er .Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1091402947729364722004-08-01T16:26:00.000-07:002004-08-01T16:29:07.730-07:00This morning I ate a fried egg sandwich, then buried myself in a pile of refuse reaching to the heights of a regular-sized automobile. Thank you for your time. The end. I am feeling ill today.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1090893642941533352004-07-26T18:18:00.000-07:002004-07-26T19:05:13.126-07:00Pitch spots my pickled heart today! After scuffing my finest pair of laceless loafers on one of the many hydrogenated hydrants scarring our Microregion's idiotic intersections, I temporarily took shelter on a nearby bench to determine the damage done to the shoes' well-worn cordovan. Sitting delicately (my congenital warts still burning with the fury of a thousand fiery furnaces) I primly Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1090549627764912262004-07-22T19:23:00.000-07:002004-07-22T19:27:07.763-07:00This morning, upon visiting our Microregion's most cost-effective clinic, I was told (in terms highly lacking in uncertainty) that I suffer from an acute case of congenital warts. Yes, congenital warts. I am currently taking daily inhalants to combat the symptoms, if not the very disease. Love yourself. As much as possible. That is all. Go, and never come back. The end.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1090378298035380102004-07-20T19:28:00.000-07:002004-07-20T19:51:38.036-07:00Cordovan shoes in shades of oxblood haunt my waking breaks at the Bureau of Reports and Records. Yes. Adelard of Bath puffs thick, twisting twirls of toxicity, blowing his terrible exhalations airward. Vin Diesel, descending from his eerie aerie on the upper floors joins us, pumping his angry fists at the sun, and screaming unbearable blasphemies into the airy atmosphere. And I, oxblood! Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1090095428572897122004-07-17T13:16:00.000-07:002004-07-17T13:17:29.040-07:00Today, I polished my largest pair of cordovan loafers using urine and ketchup-stained napkins. Thank you.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1089250847476843172004-07-07T18:08:00.000-07:002004-07-08T06:23:52.866-07:00Yes! The magnificent monotony and searing sufficiency of silences have been loading down my occipital lobes of late, as well! To wit: Often the quasi-theo/philosophical meanderings contained herein have swelled and swollen and ebbed and fallen with an inherent monotony that was (if I may say so) incredibly tedious to behold. Our blathering inanities (commonly referred to as signifiers) smited Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1088564126335101482004-06-29T19:23:00.000-07:002004-06-29T19:55:26.336-07:00Fire! Flood! Foes! Frango! Defense! Detente! Silence! Sleep! I am feeling ill today. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1088389884156121522004-06-27T18:56:00.000-07:002004-07-22T18:48:37.473-07:00Today, Vin Diesel and I began a most monotonous undertaking - that of re-soling my most pulchritudinous pair of cordovan loafers. We began, wild-eyed and wielding unwieldy warhammers, pulverizing the very soles of the little pair of laceless loafers. He, a modern-day John Henry, and I, the mindless automaton created by man to oppose him, we stood face facing face, alternating the reigning of Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1088135065789582202004-06-24T19:41:00.000-07:002004-06-24T20:44:25.790-07:00Today, Adelard of Bath and I began a fierce, brief, angry, greasy, gropey, filthy, stealthy, sweaty, illiterate, and ultimately erroneous two-man public picket-line-cum-demonstration on the walkway outside our workplace, the Bureau of Records and Reports. Long did we stride the wide walks. Long did we pound the petrified pavements. Long did we stomp the many cracks with their many ants, Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1088042088561401202004-06-23T18:52:00.000-07:002004-06-23T19:01:18.443-07:00Yes. The grey day, uglier than dog vomit, more powerful than a single mullet, falls inexorably on our monotonous existence. Yes. The dirt turns. The spit shifts. The lambs cry foul to the angry wolves, mouths overflowing. Chicken feathers floating in their gullets. Yes. Yes. Yes. Previously, and long past, we have added our own illiterate commentary to matters political, to matters commercial, Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1088041829060031912004-06-23T18:50:00.000-07:002004-06-23T18:50:29.060-07:00I am feeling ill today. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1084240538947179352004-05-10T18:53:00.000-07:002004-05-25T11:21:56.170-07:00The inky kinks, having been wrinkled out, and the rust dusted off, the timing is such that we must tackle that one onerous issue that has been hovering above us: LIFE AND HOW WE LIVE IT. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1083632770691436262004-05-03T17:46:00.000-07:002004-05-03T18:12:39.543-07:00Glory, glory, glory, and all the threads come loose. Yes, the days of milk and plenty have returned, and LO!, the days of milk and plenty run lengthwise down the great and grandiose wide, metal, aluminum and/or steel-made-stainless spoon of our making in white-blue running rivulets. In this place, the Microregion of my birth, the Microregion of my dementia, and most probably the Microregion ofKelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1070936918781080722003-12-08T18:25:00.000-08:002003-12-08T18:29:40.763-08:00I love the French.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1068008055626395062003-11-04T20:02:00.000-08:002003-11-04T20:54:31.746-08:00What is "life," but the extrapolation, interpolation, explication and deviation of and from "what is"? That is the question we tackle today, my friends. And we tackle it helmetless, and head on, and with great vigor, and with great vim. And with great animosity. The end. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1067486744611132502003-10-29T19:59:00.000-08:002003-10-29T20:13:40.700-08:00What has become of my velocity, I do not pretend to have forfended. What has become of what is, I will not, anymore, any longer, now or to come, be sure. (I must warn: the tenses are a warren today.) (Or is it tomorrow?) (O Camus, do that mon dieu thing that you do so well!) (I am tense. Be warned.) (Echo? O!) As you can see: the ding is dead, truncated, its trunk ailing, left in the Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1067202929715615042003-10-26T13:15:00.000-08:002003-10-26T13:15:34.090-08:00I am feeling ill today.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1063195129116863152003-09-10T04:58:00.000-07:002003-09-10T04:58:49.110-07:001000 whenever minutes. My watch is a jumble. Odd. Then even. How odd.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1061860185823321082003-08-25T18:09:00.000-07:002003-08-25T18:09:45.843-07:00Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1060908787607100962003-08-14T17:53:00.000-07:002003-08-14T17:57:37.216-07:00Do not be destroyed when the day (and those responsible for its upkeep) rains blows upon your mandibles. Be a man. Dribble. Juke. And die. The end. Forever. Thank you for whatever.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1057101901603390312003-07-01T16:25:00.000-07:002003-07-01T16:25:01.550-07:00The paper (which I hate) crumbles as I rub my charred stick over it. And again. And again. THE PAPER--WHICH IS OWNED BY A NEO-TECHNOPHILIAC CONGLOMERATE OF THE MOST TAXONOMIC SORT--UPON WHICH I WRITE, CRUMBLES, AND IS MUCH HATED. THAT IS ALL. Goodbye forever. I mean it this time. Thank you for your time.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-1056646835764396722003-06-26T10:00:00.000-07:002003-06-26T10:00:35.540-07:00Today, upon awakening, I stumbled to the kitchen, flipped on the light, and found that (to my despair!) my gandules had swollen to near-mutant proportions. I have called the hated Hegemon and told him that I will be unable to report for my regular shift at the Bureau of Reports and Records due to a "personal situation of dire importance." I am applying ice as we speak, and hold out hope that myKelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-959836962003-06-24T08:35:00.000-07:002003-06-24T10:21:20.000-07:00This morning, outside my very window, a loose collective of our Microregion's most insane lorry drivers drove in droves down the drives and up the alleyways, their engines sputtering, their drive belts buckling loudly and their unctuous extremities greased with the malodorous perspiration of a most offal varietal. YES: the neighborhood "noise factor" was amped beyond all bounds of civility, Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-958327432003-06-19T09:55:00.000-07:002003-06-19T18:00:29.000-07:00Professional prognosticators, devoted diviners, erudite haruspices, introspective bartenders and yellow journalists canvass the past, the present and the future in order to give order to the time outside the now. With great lodes of potentially oracular data, they squat on their prodigious haunches by the fire, looking to see what is beyond the is (the now "is" that exists at THIS SPECIFIC time).Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-957347412003-06-16T17:20:00.000-07:002003-06-16T17:24:58.000-07:00As the rhapsodically orientated waxing wanes, we wonder why what has heretofore inspired so much mirth now necessitates excess girth. Yes: in our maddening methods and pathetic processes, we are getting plump. Yes, the fat of our bulbous rhetoric is as much in need of trimming as the bulbosity of our overbearing personality. YES: what was once marvelously pithy has given way, in our exegetical Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-949155402003-05-26T16:59:00.000-07:002003-05-26T16:59:47.963-07:00My real name is Impetus. And I am dead. Goodbye forever.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-946606652003-05-20T18:08:00.000-07:002003-05-20T18:08:45.800-07:00Today, I was accosted at the bus stop and forced (against my ostensible will) to sign a petition political in nature. Vengeance: you will feel my vengeance.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-943593802003-05-14T17:38:00.000-07:002003-05-14T17:38:59.940-07:00I have a confession to make: I am, in many ways, not. I have a confession to make: I am feeling ill today. I have a confession to make: I am illiterate. I have a confession to make: My real name is Adam Gopnick. Thank you for your time.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-942960392003-05-13T17:03:00.000-07:002003-05-13T17:03:01.600-07:00I am feeling ill today. Sure: The muzak is clocked to twelve on the stereophonic. OK: Neighborhood waifs are gaily frolicking in cordovan shoes on the garbage-strewn streets. Yes: The dogs in their holiday sweaters are dancing on their hind legs. But those dogs (or perhaps just a lone perpetrator) have also, for the past six days consecutively, done unspeakable things to my morning newspapers. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-941967172003-05-12T04:27:00.000-07:002003-05-12T04:27:58.140-07:00O Monotony! Come back to us. O Monotony! Return again. That is all. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-941029882003-05-10T06:42:00.000-07:002003-05-10T06:44:02.000-07:00Hello. Today Vin Diesel and I are taking a jaunt to our local Microregion's government-subsidized deep-sea aquarium. There, we will case the place, and further develop our goal to: (a) subvert the dominant paradigm; (b) produce a revolution fit for television; and (c) liberate our aquamarine brethren. That is all. Thank you for your time. Have a nice day. Goodbye forever. Go, and never Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-939612672003-05-07T18:20:00.000-07:002003-05-07T18:23:59.000-07:00Upon punching in for work this morning, I was told by my direct superior (whom I will heretofore refer to as Hegemon) that my longtime colleague at the Bureau of Records and Reports would be replaced by a man, woman or consciousness with the rather pedestrian title of "contract worker" (most probably an Idiot Interlocutor) for the better part of next month. The reason: mild profanity. The Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-938555902003-05-06T04:20:00.000-07:002003-05-06T04:20:59.740-07:00Today, I woke up with a headache, administered to myself an analgesic, then went to the corner store to buy a new pair of cordovan shoes. That is all. Goodbye forever.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-937595352003-05-04T13:20:00.000-07:002003-05-04T16:16:41.000-07:00This morning I discovered, upon my sleeping board--nay, on my very pillow--none other than (blanch not) a human head. Its skin was of a hideous pallorousness akin to the colouring of a Kinh Do spring roll. The pate of this disgustingly bulbous protuberance was mostly bare, but for a few grimy tresses clinging tenuously to the epidermal layerings. No signs of immediate violence were apparent, Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-934978822003-04-29T17:13:00.000-07:002003-04-30T17:03:17.000-07:00Cod-suckers, scrod-gobblers and tuna-melters may masticate on the meat of our aquamarine brethren with great relish. They may flaunt the conventions of common courtesy, rending--in our very faces--the fleshy flesh of our fishy friends. These sadistic fish-lickers may even go so far as to dip the noble beasts in batter, then butter their bodies with (among other substances): butter, batter, Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-934312252003-04-28T17:07:00.000-07:002003-04-28T17:07:25.873-07:00Today, someone referred to me as John Stossel. In mixed company, no less. You: I deplore thee.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-933413392003-04-27T07:01:00.000-07:002003-04-27T07:24:09.000-07:00Do not be (if you are) disillusioned by the dissolution of templates, the displacement of paradigms and the latent illiteracies that “life” has here, in this “place” (cybernetic as it may be), sought to make manifest. The woof warps. The wharf woofs. And dogs, in their frustration at these things, aboard leaky boats in the innermost of inlets, bay at the moon. What I am saying: trials, Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-932116212003-04-24T18:12:00.000-07:002003-04-24T18:12:22.306-07:00Can the canned music and stow the yams, now, with the hamhocks. Put up your hammocks, swab the decks, don your glorious earphones and listen! Big news: Monotony, that which is, is, in its is-ness, something. i.e. the letting-lie-together-before i.e. that which exists in many states i.e. a thing that is a thing Go ye forth and prosper. I will return with a great vengeance and a great holy Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-931466312003-04-23T17:58:00.000-07:002003-04-23T17:58:57.226-07:00Sure: form follows function. Follows it, indeed, into the deepest toilets of depravity, along the lengthy sewerages of toxicity and into the chthonic cesspools of humanity’s greatest malfeasances. You: you yourself have experienced it with your own experiential sensors: anger leading to rage, rage leading to increased levels of bile and neurotoxins, increased levels of bile and neurotoxins Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930784062003-04-22T17:06:00.000-07:002003-04-22T17:24:47.000-07:00What interests some, is the irradiation of the world, the displaying of the Declaration of Independence and the singing of bawdy barroom limericks. What interests some, is the browbeating, the political polemical and the celebrity infotainment weekend special (Access Hollywood). But let us not bore our own gourds and clap ourselves on the back with claptrap meant for the ill, the boring, the Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930160072003-04-21T18:19:00.000-07:002003-04-21T18:19:31.106-07:00Today, John Stossel told me that "The Pleasure of the Text" is a total load of crap. John Stossel, I deplore thee.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930147822003-04-21T17:54:00.000-07:002003-04-21T17:54:49.530-07:00Enough.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930134562003-04-21T17:27:00.000-07:002003-04-21T17:27:52.200-07:00Editor, here me.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930126362003-04-21T17:09:00.000-07:002003-04-21T17:09:52.763-07:00What works?Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930125702003-04-21T17:08:00.000-07:002003-04-21T17:08:26.500-07:00Gird your loins. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930123972003-04-21T17:04:00.000-07:002003-04-22T18:42:53.000-07:00I go: “I am not what I am.” I say, I should say. Iago says, I should say, to be fair. But to be fair I should really say that Shakespeare said it. Right. Actually, to be right I should say that Shakespeare said it. Write again. To be right, I should write that Shakespeare said it. “I am not what I am.” Although, I suppose he wrote it himself. To be right, I should write that ShakespeareKelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-930122232003-04-21T17:01:00.000-07:002003-04-21T17:01:24.530-07:00No one came to roll back the rock, and I was stuck. I could do nothing. God, it was boring in there. Finally, I did it myself. LOVE MONOTONY; THAT IS ALL.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-929511192003-04-20T16:29:00.000-07:002003-04-20T16:29:36.076-07:00Goodbye.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-928100442003-04-17T18:07:00.000-07:002003-04-17T18:07:56.966-07:00Thank you for your time.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-927475722003-04-16T17:42:00.000-07:002003-04-16T17:42:42.030-07:00That is all.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-926147352003-04-14T16:56:00.001-07:002003-04-14T16:56:33.216-07:00Today I exfoliated my face with vinegar and ketchup-stained napkins. Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-926147132003-04-14T16:56:00.000-07:002003-04-14T16:56:05.140-07:00A great man, probably Adelard of Bath or Octavio Paz, once said "In apathy there is hope." Since we (I speak for all of us) have no urge to affirm or refute either this assertion or this citation, we can only hope they are true. Thus apathy props up optimism. If monotony (see below) is the cudgel, and tedium (see below) the scalpel, then the metaphor most aptly applied to apathy is the speculum.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-926146152003-04-14T16:54:00.000-07:002003-04-14T16:54:05.623-07:00Monotony. Monotony. There is rhythm. Mah. Not. A. Knee. Mah. Not. A. Knee. Monotony. There is tone. There is, lurking, tedium. There is tone. A tone. Monotony. A sameness. Tone. Ringing. Tedium, the scalpel; monotony, the cudgel. But we expect them. We await them--tedium, monotony. I am feverish with anticipation of my every upcoming monotony. Each morning, upon hearing my co-workers’ Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-926145852003-04-14T16:53:00.001-07:002003-04-14T16:53:31.966-07:00Today, I shined my cordovan shoes with urine and ketchup-stained napkins.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-926145652003-04-14T16:53:00.000-07:002003-04-14T16:53:10.466-07:00So. Yes. Today. Today will be the last day of the beginning of this blog. That's it. It's over. After this, the blog will begin. And that's that. That's it. Yes. Hmm. Yes. Hmmm. Because, yes because, yes, the reason for this is that today will merely be an experiment in the aberrant. Tomorrow, the delicious and the pedestrian. Today, the aberrant. Things will get better tomorrow. I swear it. ThisKelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5282755.post-926145462003-04-14T16:52:00.000-07:002003-04-14T16:52:42.546-07:00I am feeling ill today.Kelvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07421634757877696752noreply@blogger.com0