November 27th, 2006

  • roybot

rehearsing my funker vogt

I was sitting next to a fiery tuxedomoon, the dark tales of an information massacre on my birthday, the society's division of joy a voodou rapture. The soda I was drinking wasn't quite effervescent, just evanescent. The shadow knows about the crux of the situation.

My orbital mechanic told me that I'd need an elliptical adjustment. He told me this while I was on the phone to norway and eating a freezepop. Poe, and not that edgar allan guy, however, was trapped and couldn't get out because his sprocket was too wet.

Posted by Mr. The Plague (mastar of teh gibson)