Sinister: ensorcelled by sinister on a clear, cold December first night

[figure2 at xxx.net]

Ocht.I just feel like it. Stumbling over this threshold into a vacancy I don't suppose I should be filling. But say I get out of the habit? I could end up in a gorilla outfit. Actually, I am hesitating and feel a bit furry around the ankles. Mmm... carry on: it's only letters on a screen. Squeezed out, like  juice from a glace cherry: the twitches of intimacies concealed; the gagging of a loudmouth! Or someone with little to say, even if he did buy some CD's the other day, ate sausages and travelled by the public omnibus more than once.

paraphrasing, sort of

I knew it. I'd get material by reading other posts. I. 'm .scared. of. plagiaBCDEFHIJKLMNOPQRism, and
1) I can't write like girls do
2) I have an oxidationsmittel-set for instant rust, if not trust
3) Jeremy must be English
4) non-sequiturs are the new 1) I can't write like girls do

it got me started
what the cuckoo clock didn't tell

I have a tip that I'm afraid only works in Scotland if you have a radio alarm clock and you get up at 5am weekdays. If you tune the alarm to go off at this hour, on the hour, there's a swirly but rousing jingle on that frequency at that moment which dovetails with charming neatness between somnabulance and bouncing out of bed into the freezing pre-dawn air in a sickeningly determined - if not yet aware of its own cheerfullness- way.
I used to have a cuckoo clock, which went off all night. I liked it, but I was young then and got to lie in. It is in a cupboard now, beside a collection of some hundreds of hotel brochures I collected. I sent these wee white cards edged in gold from one of those special marker pens requesting a brochure from the...

the life of a delusional small-town snob

... various Grand Hotels of the world, most of whom replied, with a greater or lesser degree of enthusiasm. The Atlanta Hyatt sent me a T-shirt and a whole stack of brochures, the Hotel Richmond in Geneva has one of the nicer brochures, and the Connaught in London has no brochure at all, but sent leaflets outlining the facilities of Claridges and the Berkley instead. Not our Princess, but one of the Windsors, uses their open-air rooftop pool. This information is not in their leaflet but the hotel is in London, after all, where you can't move for the grand and the ghastly. And good, rich people who swim a bit. On a similar ticket, Rolls Royce cars sent me a book.
Why am I spouting all this garbage? CUCKOO! CUCKOO! Piss off ye false bird propelled on cheap Swiss clockwork! [a closet door slams with turbulence arising of a simmering satisfaction on the one side and ruffled plastic feathers on the other]

have I done my bit in the length/duration department?

Questions, questions, always questions, innit?
No.
mmm
I think I have the answer. And so to bed.

Gordon

with every ground smooth weld shoring up a glassy elevator; when intricacies of corinthian on Pall Mall are only stone; whether oblivious to one hardness or all too aware of another; the shadows and the light combine to chiaroscuro and reflections, not grey

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