A Poisonous Nit Infestation

What happens is that very quickly my house is infested with nits and gnats and bumbles and earwigs. Sadly they are poisonous and bite repeatedly. They open all my cupboards, remove the contents and eat everything. They leave remnants of dirt and chow, chump behavior over every surface area. No harm is meant, they are just obeying their nature.

They are unlike the sirs with the jelly center. They are pestilence in the most intense formation - your friend and yet your foe. You feel for them, you experience emotion in relation to them, their centers are faceted with crystalline loveliness. It's the residue of their behavior that you hate, that you cannot stand. The infernal rat-tat-tats that are neverending.

Pus on you, pestilence. May you all be consumed by the pus of inequity.

A drifter's lament

I am not a wife, nor am I a husband. I am neutrally inclined without sexual stimulantion. The hand job is the number one method for this nonactive actionary. There are migratory eruptions within the physical space inhabited by my smile. This is not a drifter's lament because my history is peopled with community team works.

Happiness is predicated on lack. Lack of fluids, intestinal fitness, deworm.

Mishap

My friend Gish has had a mishap with the Hair Club for Men products he was using. It is nervous-making him unto a chump. He is going to stay with me for a few days until it falls out. The hair I mean. He is nice, this Gish. He made me waffles for breakfast and he is assisting me with my attempts at Gutteral Erosions of the positive kind. We are thinking of the method of the hairball to purge the system of unmentionables.

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The Longhouse

I need to tell you about a house. It is not a house of charms, not a house of comfort, it is a house I visited last night in the night. It is long and narrow in its formation - everything is on one level. The yard is hemmed in by a twisted metal gate and th neighbors' land tenses up against it. You might see the corpulent craterous next door matriarch riding her John Deere, without feck or hap, around their lawn. She smiles big, all two-toothed and gummy, and lays a claim of ownership on all she sees so don't get in her sights or you will be manipulated into behaviors that you loathe.

Inside the longhouse are many many guest bedrooms. Much much in the way of cracking antiques fill the rooms, ugly, threadbare sheets and flocks of fat ceramic geese, wall to wall carpeting that is rough to the touch.

A food fight breaks out between myself and Ham Paw. We throw fried chicken at each other's heads. A mad fleshy fat man enters the longhouse draped in nothing but a hospital gown. I collar him and lead him around with a leash as Ham Paw spanks him with metal rulers.

Later Ham and I enter the bathroom/sanctuary. In the bathy waters is a fermenting body subject to maggot consumption. The body is a man that was once a small girl, it is still both things at once, and possessed with a spirit of animation. We forensically examine the site and see entrance points in the ceiling where small toxic leak drips penetrated, invading the territory and the man, subjecting him to the ugliest of decomposition-takeover.

We lock the bathroom and name it a sarcophagus. We exit the longhouse without incident and go to town for some more fried chicken which this time we do not throw, we eat with various sauces on the side until morning.

Submitting to Passive Examination

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We are all one in the fluid of druid. The wormhole has produced a nest from which has hatched a lovely sylph in the formation of cloud smears, once toxic, once salvish. The laser probes have come and gone. We are left with the possibilities of friendly manual probing - the resultant culmination is asexual, is pragmatic in a curative sense. There is more to be said but not now. I promise to tell another tale in the later hours which will be early in terms of tomorrow. Until then, may we all delight in our examinations.

blessings to you

Mountain man, we salute you from across the river styx. I am on the other side but sending good feeling and magical Klonopin. You are a dear and honorable guy. Take care.

I am in exile. There is a girl being made in tiny strokes with powerful breasts which peak in the direction of the heavens. Her eyes are glorious in lightness, a Eutruscan spiritualist, a congueror. Many will surround her dance in theatrical fervor. Next we discuss hand jobs of a punitive nature. Deprevation of the flesh as medicinal gesture. there is more to come, so to speak.

the wanderer within

I am meditation on the dear ones who regulate the homestead and the intestinal front lines of the inner ear of the gut. We all must chew more precisely to calibrate this inner ear with this soft maze. Pellets are my nail clippings due to lack of gestural conditioning and the necessity to pressure these internal movements. The fouling continues. We are all within this context of universal potency and fluidity. My fall is internal but also pre-fall wtihout the holy ghost. Tongue speak and laying on of hands are unyielding toward these conditions of s-shape and ease. The dear ones before mentioned are animals which are sea worthy, but parasitic. The color is translucent, white and skinny. Shapely and long. It has been said that this is mental depravity. This statement was made with good intention and care, duly noted and recognized, but brushed aside for less reality and more abject desire. I hope to see the cosmic truth in wormy wanderers. If they were before us, then why should they not be of us?

Bash

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I have purchased a new product called Bash to help me with the suicide mechanism that fully prongs the rear cortex of my mind-party. I do not want to immerse in the downtrodden ways, I want to immerse in the porpoise of thigh, the desire of corpus-mangle-tangle that comes to me through sprites in the night.

Prescription for Importance and Happiness

I want no more hurts or accusations of chump to be mounted on Ham Paw. Ham Paw is delicate, the skin is prone to bleeding when misaligned in relation to the sun. Words are like deep gashes when they are abusive in the slightest. I ask you to please be respectful of the channeler, he has willed us all into being. That is what I expect.

If it pleases you it will please me to mention that tonight I celebrated in the tented world. It was told to me that the tents released bad energy in the form of pencil drawings of hairlike gaseousness. Whether this is really true is unimportant. We were all there - Fairy B., Ham Paw, myself, Uncle Fritz and even Edward to complete the set. It was lovely in the making and in terms of memory will rank on chapter ten of solace. Thanks be.

Ham Paw is tenuous in his rantings. He is beseeching the strength of horsepower to continue in his genital-less, hairless poignancy. Ham Paw is a leader. Listen to us and them. Thanks be.

Sapphic Trench

The possible cures for Poetic Lassitude, Pyrexia Poetica, also known as Iambic Langour or Black Plapsy, are as follows.

1. Beat victim with oaken staves
2. Cold shower regime
3. Cross country running
4. Enema

Limit the sources of infection. Isolate or the infection will spread.

Here-Sided Oneness

The pontoons are sending out distress signals as they tumult across the foaming crests. I am disobeying their call and not answering their call. They are unmanned pontoons, they are guided by invisible evilbots from above with callous intentions to get me to drown.

Meanwhile, I am building a delightful wood shed in my living room. I have many beautiful planks of lightly stained wood, the grain is mesmerizing, I believe I see little men tumbling along sloping paths. I believe I see one eye after one eye. This shed will be the secret place of trowels, shovels, hoes and the like. It will be the site of various corporeal punishments that I will delight in enacting, alone or with another or two others, depending on how large they are.

I am in like with my shed. One day I hope to be in love.

poetic lassitude

preoccupied and introspective, wandering the countryside, staring at tiny flowers. Attracted to water and may be discovered gazing limply into a still pool or millpond, sighing heavily. The disease manifests in oblique statements. The victim's only positive action during the disease's primary and secondary stages is to scribble, sometimes recite, verse. Examination of this work is in itself exhausting and may lead to cross-infection. The content of it may be very powerful, where comprehensible.

I fear for myself.

Fog of Descension

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So the fog has come and will not lift. This is the stand-in for comatose, the feeling of ill-will that pillages the rocky perches of the gut and robs it of purpose. I want to apologize for lack of unity and playful jabs that lead to epidermal mildewing, gutteral erosion and clogged pathways. The bone on bone clash that was to be memorialized in an open field is not about to happen this day. It will be saved for another day.

Meanwhile I will examine my scratches on paper from previous days and hope for magic to emanate from them. I do not know, but I hope.

Concrete Rationality and Over-Underfunctioning

This is how it went: first I was locked out. I had to shimmy in an upper window on a rickety ladder and swing from beam to beam to get to safety in the upper region. Then I was in, from the outside in. While in, I scratched on papers, as intended. I harvested marks and dribbles and pocks into tumultuous inner terrain - the inner was a way to the outer, which was all around me. Ham Paw will visualize in communion at a later session, he knows what I am referring to. The brightness was conjured in 2 dimensions, attempting to coalesce and harmonize into the alien place of what came before - the relational footstep of the hunter-gatherer. Very primal, very druid. Absorbed forthwith was an over-saturated artificiality of candy, a layering of one horizon-world above another, adding renewed possibility like sandwich levels to bite into.

It rained a silvery searing damp rain and the time away came to an end so the time back recommences tonight and tomorrow. A hopeful feeling permeates the dampness. I am unshy of residue, wishing to remain in the trance state. The kitty rules me from above my head. The defensive swatting never ceases. Thanks be, glory be.

We are all emeshed in our biographies

I don't apply modern motivation, the environment implicating the heads of the north and the south. This revolt occured in the early morning. This is an anti body syndrome without freedom. There is a pacifist strain in illness which allows dissapearance. this has to come to blows. I was predestined and yoked to extremist physicality. My interviews tell me that I join you in this. My body is punished now from north and bottom. I apply southern tactics to the northern side with pharmacology. I am primitive today. Nocturnal raids in caves are employed.

sickly

Ham paw is sickly. It was wave like, pushing into a membrane, then an explosion of fluidity without pressures, just limp attacking. The barrier reef is broken and the little animals swam in. Now the upper portion is threatening and near to wetness.

Chaos Bewitched

Is what I am after. That is a phrase from one of my favorite books, Moby Dick. I am off to go semi-whaling for a few days. It's up to Ham Paw to take over in the meantime. I am not sure how he is doing lately. When I last heard from him, he was out of sorts at best. His divination practices seemed to be fouling. But I do believe that the target realigns through daily practice and I am sure he is swimming in a pantless splendor as I type. My eyes are still unfresh so I can understand.

Today I hope to visit the store, "Mysteries" and spend many hours there. I am looking for mysterious tidbits that may contain lucid portals. I am hoping to avoid all tards and lunch on greens to cleanse the system. I will be working on some boggy, soggy squitchiness in the form of art projects. It is time for this. I have bought mucho paints and have nice paper to scratch around on. I am not sure what to make but I will figure it out either on my own or with the help of psychoactive achievements. I can't wait to resume concrete function on Wednesday night.

Freshness Around the Eyes

Is lacking, but there is freshness in the center, which is much more important, don't you agree? My ribs are pressing out through my stomach. They are turning into handlebars with red, white and blue tassles. They are decorative, mildly functional, but extremely painful. I need a sling of some kind to maintain support and alignment, which is so key in these later days.

The implantation of neck meteors has resumed, but this is less ominous than it sounds. Accept the baseball-sized, transparent, toy-containing pod into your neck without resistance, is your best hope. It will pass through you in a matter of hours and the residue left behind is merely nostalgia, awareness of the loss of past ghost scenarios, and your mixed-up fragility within them. Tears may well up in your multi eyes, but they will evaporate just as quickly as they came.

I am trying to propel myself to the phase of the morning wherein I wash but it is proving a slow journey this a.m. Thank you for your time and attention to this matter.

Very truly yours,

MM

Eckstatickal

Myself and my dear friend Dudly (spelled without the "e") went to see some wondrous art relics in the Chelsea Forest yesterday. We focused our trip and ended it after 2 hours with a nice fried snack. This makes it easier to see art, when you have tan foods to look forward to.

The reason I am eckstatickal is due to the paintings of Andre Ethier. He has a show in the back gallery of Derek Eller. MM and Dudly were magnetically pulled to these little paintings of mythical beings: a ramhead with rows of tiny teeth and a strange ruddy pirate with an implosive Michael Jackson nose and glam eye make-up. Many many fine and somewhat disgusting little characters with violent presence in their beady stares, a possessed mirthfulness about them. MM would like to save up and buy one, for they are not so expensive. There is a single image up of his on Derek Eller's website which was our favorite painting.

Sloth, you may like one for your log wall, I am not sure.

Also, we witnessed the loveliness of Dana Carlson's owl and cat paintings at Baumgartner Gallery. Snug owls nestled into each other on tree branches. A fluffy cat sat magestically on the mountainous horizon like a hopeful beacon to quell all anxious-making antics. Dudly was lulled by the passages of stitching and beadwork, pom poms and patches that accumulated into soothing jumbles. Very lovely-style. Very wondrous.

Those were our favorite items. MM is permeated with positivity and hope for future days to come. He is actively interested in life as a result of his pilgrimage, he is not depressed at all but instead truly soothed, as though he has performed the truly stretching Toad Contortion. Dudly too, normally a very stiff and ponderous fellow, seems more relaxed than I have seen him in years.

My Henchmen

I would like to introduce you to my henchman:

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From left to right, Phillipe, Charles, Bainbridge and Saphire. They are capable and at the ready. I conducted many interviews and found these four to be the most highly qualified for interspecies protectants and anti-detritus foundation practices.

BTW I conferred with PD tonight on many topics. She was supportive and provided me with reams and dossiers of information on everything I could use in my conductivity training seminar breechments. It was good. And may I add she had the look of the fabulous about her. Zig Zag! is what I thought when I beheld her. That is good.

Goodnight until the morning, when it will be goodmorning. I will not say this to you then.

Perpetrator Has Been Caught

The demon turned out to be Kitty #3. Freeze Kitty. You are under arrest.

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Breathing

Hampered from airborn stuffs. Severity of nature in mind and lack of washcloth. Overdyed hair extensions were placed on head in night by demons. Now look like transvestite. Is this good or bad? The timing is wrong but the look has its merits. Lipstick was smeared on lips by self same demons. I am ok with it. I want to be on a tv show about people commandeered by demons and turned into clumsy versions of the opposite sex. Preferably this show will be public access. Preferably many pertinent topical issues will be discussed in addition to the above mentioned half-assed gender reassignment revisions. I want to be half man half woman, that is the obsessively deviant fact the demons do not understand. I like them, in spite of their lack of liking of me.

I need to go back to obedience school. I may register for courses later today; I won't mind taking this class with many terriers. I never mind being the odd one out in any setting. Do not disbelieve me.

Allow your legs to be crippled if that's what you legs are wanting. Have fun with limited movement. Make it work for you.

Insomniac Shout Out

HEY! I am awake and it's real real early, the sky is not even up yet. I have invisible meats as fortresses in my inner cortex, it is not my brain, it is more like a shrub that grows by the onramp near my tubular ortho-placement stratification. I am excavating worms from the pile-up of madness that never ceases to exist.

For one I am allergic to the winds that rustle the leaf/tree dialectic and create low-frequency hissing noises in the loyal background. I am stuffed up. For another I am rumbling of pipes due to overfast consumption of certain items that are bad for my groin-intestine axis. It is an axis of dread.

I have a message for the ether which is that the rotund one can no longer foul me. I sent him a telekinetic tap-tap that said I do not want you to do things for me anymore and stop giving me uncashable checks. He still is owing much in the way of funds, funds that, believe me, I and my henchmen intend to collect, but I said no to him, I will give you nothing, no satisfaction, no goods, no representational packages, and I am less than concerned about his reaction. He is leaving on a month long voyage and when he returns I plan to say a forceful clear good-bye in person, followed by many many harrassing gestures towards him by me that are aimed at getting my funds. I am very clear-headed, untraumatic and excited for the nameless future. I am asserting that this future will be manipulation-free. The only manipulations I will allow are the ones I ramify in my backyard.

Thank you for your attention to these matters. I must stop the dribbling.

Dogs, Babies and Candy Pieces

Delicous and cute, fun and with sweetness. Don't be cruel to me, have fluff and be sugar-tastic like cheese pastry or dog biscuits. When the people you love disappear and call you stupid what do you do? Eat sugary substances and get into bed. Reminisce about the old days when you were cuter, more appealing and attractive to the opposite sex. What I want to know is why do wrinkles and pot bellies equal the need to stay indoors? No fair. I am lackluster, lacking in desire to propel myself into public. I am ashamed of my denim shaggy outfits and porscine torso swells.

I will be ok, no worries. (Just in case). I am excited about the future and grilled meats, twirling neck swivels and pecans embedded in wheat-based doughy.

Il pleut. Mais je suis bonne nuit et avec le choux. This is what my throat looks like. My glands are swollen.

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A Journey Away

MM and HP are going on a journey this weekend that will culminate in a fanciful but unpredictably nervous-making reunion with old fellowships from the truly pre-modern years. From the years back when Ham Paw actually ate Ham and believed himself part of an already established ideology and Mountain Man was so feral and untrained that he had weeds in his hair. I was such a shy guy I could not speak in public without shuddering. There will be a festive gathering tonight in celebration of our return that we are most looking forward to. HP will wear jeans and a tutu, I believe and MM will be wearing his signature overalls and nude underneath. For shame or better, these will be our outfits of choice.

Good Morning Gumdrops of the Universe

I have gnats flying around my ears, but there are two blue-eyed calico kitties sitting on my head that protect me. They swat and stare and make it ok. They pur and it reverberates inside my cavern.

Today the only beverage I will consume is green gatorade. I will see if it makes me feel ill-willed by the end of the day. I am pouring several bottles into a large jug that I will carry with me in a work-related tote bag, so as to not arouse suspicion. (Although I am usually arousing of suspicion, not to mention deep excitement of ladies...ROCK IT!!!)

I am thinking of tuna melts today. Even though I desperately can't stand them. I hate them even more than tuna casserole.

When I was a small boy, I wore jeans with a so called acid wash look. They were pleated at the waist and pegged down near the ankles. My hair was shaggy then as it is now. I had a messy binder, with crumpled papers sticking out, every which way. I couldn't remember to do my homework and I was always in trouble. This is a precursor to fractured ideology and lack of general internal assembly that reigns supreme over my bowels in the present days (the end days).

MM's Brother

He came over to stay for a few days. He is annoying me deeply.

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Contortions for everyone.

Who here would like the beneficial aid of salt bath? A noble choices but not so high as dirty waters with fish and fungi. These are natural cleansers which reduce the textures of seasoning and aging for types within the roughness of universal charms of the corned and calloused. MM is in keeping with the lesson.

Confusing Scenario

The wishing in the well slowed me down. I was lowered into the brick well by a pulley system, operated by my friend Chet. I got all the way into the moist dank pit and began to wish upon wish. First I wished for solace. Then I wished for gentrification. Then I wished for ablutions. I began to wish for things I didn't really want but I couldn't stop. I cried for Chet to lift me out and it seemed as though it took forever. When I emerged, dirty and harrowed, he noticed a tumor bulging above my left eye, hanging over it slightly. It felt like a bit of muck stuck on me. This morning I when I awoke, the tumor was blinding my left eye - when I close my right eye I can only see a blurry slit of visual information. I believe this is punishment for wishing for the wrong things. Please be careful you don't do the same.

Now You Know

About the finger of the chicken, the finger that came before the chicken and the different finger that comes post-chicken. Ham Paw made a feast for me last night that rattled my gutterals. I am flat on my back this morning, however this is not due to the Paw that came before and after the Ham. It is my faulty foundations. My back is out of whack. I want to apologize to Ham Paw for not being able to participate more fully in the breaded item ritual.

I am feeling in a welcoming mood today. In spite of my powerlessness, I seek to comb and shine my hairs everywhere. I wil use a small comb with fine teeth and care for each strand. Then I will delegate unguents to glisten like dew drops on the tips of every single one.

my friend Mountain man loves chicken fingers.

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he is very full of the spirit of the chicken that once was before the finger.

When I am Older

I bought this dolly set so I can "play" at learning how to take care of myself when I get to be an old Mountain Man. As you can see, I may have teats. I will practice care simulation of my geriatric self.

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Puzzle Talk

Listen! There were elves, owls, lumpy trees and fluffy felines. Praise be to Fairy Butler. We were so proud we almost drooled. Everyone smiled and no one said anything mean. Everyone behaved and the only sadness was no dances of the world were danced. That is for the next go-round, coming up soon, wherein Ham Paw will display some tumultuous relics.

We will be on red alert until then.

My pores are widening and bugs are crawling in there to slumber. I am wizening more each day. Swelling in all the wrong places, going soft and pointless. This is of little importance, I realize.

I am angry and there are certain people I am interested in hammering (with real hammers, not nerf ones). Anyone who reads this blog who is in the hammering department will know it's them I want to hammer when they read this. Screw you. You can't win.

Today is for wind and the rains

Unfortunate. But our forest-time jungle rumble should not be affected. We are going to mingle with symbols and have cohorting times with owls and cats and trees. I am highly anticipating it and have heard through the moon-waves that all is well at the wizard's patch and that Fairy Butler has reigned supreme. I know it and can feel it to be true. She brings out the magical in all of us.

So I am trying to purge myself of the worms I snacked on last night which were seriously not good for my windpipe. I am using a long-handled scrub brush to get them & their rotten residue out of me once and for all. Not comfy. May have to have painkillers later.

Today, in the wind and rain, I am wondering, why do I look so old? And why am I a stupid idiot so much of the time? That's all. I will feel better later, after the worms are gone.

Maritime Ideation

Today I am wondering about boats and the sea. What is life on a boat really like? When you cannot find land and have to wear a uniform? I can hardly imagine it and wish I had sailor wisdom to propel me through that mental scenario.

Beth is back, in case anyone didn't realize it. I neglected to mention it because I am so ashamed of myself for allowing this level of female manipulation. She is actually part hamster, I should specify that. She was pliant for a while but now she has become tiresome and textured again, refusing to cook my stew and failing miserably in any attempt to please me. The latter part is fine though because it gives me opportunities to laugh at her and humilate her in various ways. Hi Beth!!! Haha on you for living with such swine as myself. That makes you a swine-phile.

I am actually not so bad to live with. I paint her toenails every week. I give her catalogs from time to time. She has pretty hair.

Ok, not so much more to report. Except that since its casual Friday I will be wearing overalls and no shirt underneath to work. I figure my body hair provides ample fashion-forwardness.

My Eyes and What Happened

They popped out, all of them. So I put them on a dish and am now contemplating them. I have been contemplating them for several hours. It is interesting, especially since I can't see them.

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hurts

My eye is popping out of the socket again. It started when Beth spit in my eye moons ago in retaliation for her ill-fitting Bud dress. She was acid in every way and I remain scarred on many levels Her saliva burns as does all her excretions. It is splitting in half with the cornea separating I think.

So Many Things For Sale

I have decided to sell my bars of chocolate, 12 at $1 each. You may buy up to 3 per person. (So as not to get too charged up on chocolate). I am also selling my old shoes for 15 cents, in case anyone has a smelly shoe fetish. I am selling my cat, Herbert, for $5,000, because that is how much he is worth to me. I am also going to sell my fingernail clippings (Ham Paw, you in particular may be interested in these) for $9.99 a pound.

Any takers?

Soothing for Fairy Butler

This is for you, dearie. Please focus on it and have it inhabit your mindscape. Goodness will come to you. Frothiness will mix with bees and never sting you. Benevolence will be transformed from the pressuring dirt build-ups.

It is true for all of us.

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Thank You F Lady

Just a few moments ago I got my head stuck in the urinal again and this kind lady flew in to rescue me from certain indecency and dirt crusts in the tresses. It was a bad scene for me. She flew away right after she uncorked me. I wish only the best for her.

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A New Friend

My meeting with the rotund one yesterday (a meeting where I retrieved several items back from his control and received a check that as of yet cannot be cashed) was long and harrowing but all in all somewhat of a success. However it drove me to drinking at Ned's late into the night and I met a pretty lady named Chili Pepper who spoke to me with her pointy ears. It was some sort of combo of sign language and ear semaphore. I am not sure what she said, but she seemed intuitive and carefree.

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I am learning and absorbing many things today.

Poison Upstream

My next door neighboor decided to empty vials of poison into her end of the stream. It has migrated down to my end and I have become bloody inside my mouth. I am aware that it will be ok.

It got dark last night but there was light within the darkness that I am hoping is comprehensible. The hairbrushes are a welcome addition, always, even if they contain bucking babies. So today, I am bringing a bag of hairbrushes to work. I will offer to all of the nearby ladies that they may brush my natty long hair, deeply in need of brushing. I can tell by their eyes that they have been wanting to brush my tresses for months. Today is your day, ladies! Then, as a double use for the colorful brushes, I will use the back sides of them to smash and slap the ladie's back sides. Their truly squishy behind the scenes notions. I will coax them to remove their pantaloons and make welts on them. And if it doesn't work, then I will instead contemplate this heady scenario for many minutes, culminating, most probably, in a furtive trip to the men's room, if you receive my meaning.

Please forgive these wanton ways. I am new to the earth, in spite of having been here for so long.

Yours Truly,

MM

Frontal Region

So I was kidnapped by a S.W.A.T. team and held against my will for three violent days. They were onto me so they had to tamp things down, as it were, in my frontal region. They jabbed me in the back with stiff fingers (this is not a euphemism) and proceeded to unlock my everything, break me down in every way and practically take away my identity. They locked me in a barrel. I am ok now, so do not worry. They released me as a matter of course, believing that I have indeed learned many lessons. I may not have.

In any event, I am fascinated by leaves and mud today. I am interested in mulch. I am sowing seeds in anticipation of the friendliness that may come to me.

I am working on a wet leaves and mud statue of myself, a replica of mountainousness and misshapen attitudes. Expect it to be free-flowing and metaphorical, in possession of splendor. Mystical is a word that would not be misapplied when speaking of this new construction.

Thanks be to unity of magic under the floorboards. Glory be!