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Showing posts from January 30, 2017

No bowl from charm (code for smoking pot)

Prologue.There are major goings on right inside the school's front office. This is where the neat desks are arranged into right angles. Prim and trim in front of the neat white secretaries with their tidy assistant pins pinned to their sharp lapels.
"O' can I get a picture please?"
Type type type, "Of course, yes."
Chapter.
The slow arc of light being thrust at the dusty screen aches like a spreading bruise. It's a hot knot shaped like a hound, a small fat hunting dog on a wide rug beside a glowing fire and an oversize bouncy chair. The long table has a dozen sleepy students sitting at it. They fidget with their pens and gaze at the dim clock overhead. The radiator bangs and a couple of the girls chins bounce when they nod. "We've taken advantage of the this rule before. Last week we saw it with Hawthorn. We're likely to see it again in Updike. Can anyone identify the rule I'm talking about here?"

No one moves beneath the steady weig…

The Folklore of our Economics

This is after all of that talk about painting and painting things clean and free from the sounds of value. - After PvZ, after SMJ Radio, radio, barn owl hoot, the tainted thing in the dry black grove on the pale clay mound. No chairs, no chairs or tables, no beasts, no beasts with guns in the back seat of my checkered yellow car. The walls of the basin are like cold tonic being served over traffic and the walls are like 8 foot high piles of dung in the center lane. The cloud of super-villain in front of us is drinking from his paper cup and he laughs a little too much like Frank laughs.
"Cold coffee is cold enough," He tells me from his mirror. He casts some blinker, promptly switches into the right hand lane. He slides in beside a great hovel of a necromancer then pounds the steering wheel for effect. "The market is a cultural construct, a series of black eyed occurrences. The market is all math that's been translated through the actions of determined transformatio…