stagnanTVowels

fig.02.210) another harmless baffle There have always been things in front of that window; once Milton cut out paper leaves that he hung there with fat pink string. The high sun cascades in, letting shadows playing at the edges of the floor. Watching it is like seeing a brittle plastic film in a cinema that's the size of a bathroom. After a short wait she steps into the light. Her nose is just visible. The mask she's wearing seems well gnawed, some purpose must have interrupted the hungry vole of reason that's responsible for such violent deckling, but the barn of reason now forgets it's stopping. Why does she wear this, thing. Maybe she's disappointed in choices she's made?   Brushing the hair from her eye's hotly, she exhales meanly. Standing up quickly, Myko turns and leaves the kitchen. This is when the world ends. The End. Chapter: The Next, To Begin! I adore her quick smell of perfume and whatever it is she has in her pockets. Back when kids would roa...

Fig.01.213) Me, the Apple with J Mascis During this time... The voices of many telephones murmur as proles manage what business is appointed to them by distant masters. There are never short answers in the stacks. History is a tightly wound coil around a small golden chair sitting beneath an even smaller umbrella but short answers require clownishly large shoes. Not springing from the loam of a hallowed vale, the narratives within these aisles are constructed from the straw and twine of whatever is easiest, most expedient or convenient to lay hands on. All of it is being piled higher and higher at the urging of untidy fools, until it finally falls down. Now, here we are. As in the United States, most clandestine, independent or alternative publication actions in Montreal and Toronto ceased by 1973. So the short answer could be, we aren't Canadian... The Canadian social and political realities of the 60's and 70's were particularly contentious. The country was sorting thr...