I'm beginning to suspect that I'm somehow enmeshed in the Tristero system. There's probably a W.A.S.T.E. bin around here somewhere.
Anyway, here is my correspondence from Mario:
When the tabloid inside a fairy laughs out loud, the salad dressing beams with joy. Sometimes some overripe wedding dress ruminates, but a sandwich always seeks a sheriff! A single-handledly dreamlike line dancer has a change of heart about a greedily shabby ski lodge. Any hydrogen atom can make love to the fraction, but it takes a real freight train to give lectures on morality to the globule.
Indeed, another razor blade for a cowboy competes with the minivan. Any graduated cylinder can secretly give secret financial aid to some girl scout beyond the cab driver, but it takes a real fighter pilot to play pinochle with a defendant around the wheelbarrow. The skinny polar bear thoroughly assimilates a squid about the avocado pit. Now and then, a cough syrup about a prime minister brainwashes a particle accelerator. When the buzzard behind the spider is orbiting, the surly avocado pit somewhat shares a shower with a greedily optimal grand piano. symmetry. Hmm..today nothin interesting happened..I went to Wlds juz now and initially planned to meet wif Azhar but he went home already aft Friday prayers..then met Catherine and passed her a guide book on Singapore's transportation route..hopefully she can find the shortest route to go to ngee ann poly wif tt...After tt,i went to my old apartment to check my mail..yes tt bloody apartment still haven't find a buyer..-sigh-..I guess cos it's a 5-room flat,it is difficult to find a buyer esp wif the economic downturn and stuff..so..yeah..now stoning at home on front of the tv..feeling damn bored.. 2
A briar patch defined by a ski lodge carelessly makes a truce with a recliner living with the demon. A cargo bay teaches some crispy customer. A miserly short order cook borrows money from a statesmanlike graduated cylinder. A fractured cloud formation eagerly reaches an understanding with the deficit defined by a crank case. A resplendent pig pen ignores the obsequious crane. Mario
Dear Thomas Pynchon,
I love you and do not think that your brilliant writing resembles InterWeb spam, nor does it resemble your writing. Please do not kill or sue me. Love, Sheena ps. would love to meet you, can I stop by for coffee someday?
5 comments:
a) i love the crying of lot 49.
b) i also love how there's this one paragraph that makes a little bit of sense - a narrative, if you will
"Hmm..today nothin interesting happened..I went to Wlds juz now and initially planned to meet wif Azhar but he went home already aft Friday prayers..then met Catherine and passed her a guide book on Singapore's transportation route..hopefully she can find the shortest route to go to ngee ann poly wif tt...After tt,i went to my old apartment to check my mail..yes tt bloody apartment still haven't find a buyer..-sigh-..I guess cos it's a 5-room flat,it is difficult to find a buyer esp wif the economic downturn and stuff..so..yeah..now stoning at home on front of the tv..feeling damn bored.."
i mean, i don't know who or what tt is, but it's actually coherent.
I'm telling you. Tristero!
I'm going to get the muted post horn tattooed on me somewhere.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting with Stanley Koteks.
i'd just like to point out that on dorothy's site, you can purchase a sticker that says:
"my other car is a pynchon novel."
in case you're interested.
http://catandgirl.com/store/psticker.php
What is this? Where on earth is it coming from? Should earth be in caps? Aaaah!
the muted horn thing would be the best tattoo ever, by the way.
Post a Comment