For - d_rood

With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything.My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything.My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everythingMy god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything.My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything.My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything.My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything.. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. ¡With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything. With the abuse of certain solvents came certain insights, and as the mind is a loom for the generation of patterns, it stood to reason that if there were any hidden correspondences between any two distinct things (which seemed reasonable at the time) then there had to be hidden correspondences between everything. This is mogic (magical logic), which was ostensibly my discipline, so it made sense that while the class practiced hanging from the fingers for hours on end (the closest we came to intermural athletics) Annabelle and I would spend time swapping medications, and though she could not see the second script in the shake of her pen I was a crystaline latticework of conceptual understanding entirely removed from localized concerns and thus sifted out her better intentions: the shake of her paperthin hands was not a palsy but a divination, a secondary liminal conduit of information by which she was carresing the harder angles of the alphabet back into pictographic representation. At this time discretion was strongly advised: The conservative old guard among the other instructors, convinced the removal of "decadent" letters such as B, G and H was the only means of restoring civic order, endlessly battled with young avant-garde instructors who had begun adding new letters to the alphabet -- due to the limits of Unicode, we cannot demonstrate these new letters here, but among the most popular are the new consonants Jopey (which looks like a sideways ox), Didlin (which looks like a lightning bolt striking a frog) and Revel (which looks like two chickens fighting). Computer keyboards were regularly vandalized with homemade keys wedged in the number pad and colleges regularly requested clarification of transcripts who recieved "The Lesser of Placement A that is yet superior to the placement C" in "Ennelis". As such, the dowser's wand of her marker across the scrying mirror of the whiteboard may have traced near future tactical analysis (and certainly my attention caught on the curve and dip of her script, how even with the shaking in her carpals and metacarpals she formed O's of the noblest roundness, but I cannot be sidetracked by lexical pornographies) but the translation had to take place in the silence between the ears so as not to offend whichever camp currently held power. It was the practice in the earlier part of the last century for farm families to keep their children home during harvest time and send small pigs dressed in that child's clothing to school as a surrogate. This was always a dangerous move, as when the child returned the class would vote whether to keep the actual child or the surrogate, which is how Pig Jacoby graduated from the school in 1941 and became a famous Hollywood actor. We currently had two schweinkindern, one fully incorporated (her schooling name was Median) and another who was still between states, and so kept the name of his referent, Porantine Wonderful Child. Pig Porantine was a personal favorite of Annabelle's, and she greatly hoped the actual child never returned -- indeed, I have suspicions she has a plan of action prepared if Boy Porantine returns from the fields to take up his studies. Much of this connection came from Pig Porantine's appreciation of Annabelle's writing: he would go so far as to press his snout behind her right hand and follow her across the board, a kind of waltz he would replay in his head during the finger-hanging exercises (in which he obviously did not participate), marker across his whiskers and... My god. Annabelle's tremors are love letters to Pig Porantine. Now I understand everything.

tremor calligraphy

font source: d_rood