21 december

In fact when I think about it, the sound's no doubt -- it would be better to touch feathers with a sound track that flies me through than the mild reproof that rebounds the inner grounds brewing up my organs and my genes meaning well but genuinely reflecting and genuflecting in the service of considered meaning and also of the meaning of service -- to deserve this goodness or to give up the cup that overflows and pass it on -- to fail the bond measure and heap the treasure that cheapens leisure when you just live in the house that jack built -- it's a spilt wind that blows no cream and it's a hungry locomotive that leaves no steam -- forgive me all my tresspasses and let me off the hook -- I'll make it after dinner if there's something you can cook --