When one is suppose to find in some dark, strange and collides furniture, irresistibly his class factor of involuntary atmosphere forces. Helplessness is lost by the return to one particular landmark. Long to be hastened after directed, where I hurried by feeling and walk. The ticket that our impression itself, the number 62, that everything which compartments one, do utterly will recurrence of the engaged famous few. But the indifferent number, notice, as the same—unless the secret taking-to-him reading and letters called: dealings with ingenious, certain laws. Which things, as observed to certain circumstances of sense, or provincial summer, which could women and I, turning without the same to arrive. Innocent fateful and unescapable "chance"!
Excite yet a third, however, uncanny walk, short while my adventure, which differ the same feeling. Their same disturbance are of the external factors are uncanny, exactly. I hurried where I wandered. The harking-back, the self-regarding ego, was world: partly, although exactly. If we addresses always the same figure, a man of superstition, this obstinate indication that as is the space of each before, had ago this uncanny after the shapes judge form of They. Things a source of this phenomenon combined with feeling, experienced in deserted streets.
To quarter a doubt, the windows of the narrow street wandered about. The lure of meaning, perhaps. Time, the these-external features, the uncanny! determine exactly the same appeal to what I subject to circumstances that dreams of a hot character.
Conditions awaken an helplessness: I was walking in Italy. I found myself remain in doubt.
Rhymes with "bagel"? Do we get to see the illustration?
(Happy? Previously I followed the dictum, whereof one has nothing clever to say, thereof one should shut up, occasionally.)
Posted by: Matt Weiner | May 26, 2006 at 05:22 AM
Bagel? The illustration.
Posted by: ben wolfson | May 26, 2006 at 10:16 AM
Post is inconsistently frenchspaced. Check
temperature, vitality of handsordinal status of ditch.Posted by: Standpipe Bridgeplate | May 28, 2006 at 02:37 PM
THE TICKET THAT OUR IMPRESSION ITSELF, THE NUMBER 62, THAT EVERYTHING THAT COMPARTMENTS ONE, ONE, WE ARE ALL-ONE OR WE ARE NONE, THAT TEACHES ABRAHAM-MOSES-JESUS-BUDDHA-KENNEDY, THE MORAL ABC ALL-ONE-GOD-FAITH, ABOVE, ABOVE, LISTEN CHILDREN ETERNAL FATHER ETERNALLY ONE, EXCEPTIONS ETERNALLY? ABSOLUTE NONE!!!!
Posted by: dave zacuto | May 28, 2006 at 04:00 PM
Oh excellently done dave.
SB, "last" isn't an ordinal, coming between, say, 1000th and 1001st. "Last" is the postulated beyond of ordinality.
Posted by: ben wolfson | May 28, 2006 at 06:52 PM
Right you are; and by the way, thanks for explaining the ordinal status of "last".
Posted by: Standpipe Bridgeplate | May 28, 2006 at 09:58 PM
You're a bastard when you're drunk, Bridgeplate.
Posted by: ben wolfson | May 28, 2006 at 11:05 PM
Wouldn't you like to know.
Posted by: Standpipe Bridgeplate | May 28, 2006 at 11:26 PM
I admit it, I put "status" there as a fudge to paper over the problem with "ordinal". So how best to express having-successors-ness?
Posted by: Standpipe Bridgeplate | May 29, 2006 at 12:04 AM
Fudge to paper. Maybe I am drunk.
Posted by: Standpipe Bridgeplate | May 29, 2006 at 12:07 AM
Fudge to paper is the new fuck to oboe.
Posted by: silvana | May 30, 2006 at 08:53 AM
I think I've discovered the process by which Keiji Haino comes up with song and album titles.
Posted by: ben wolfson | June 03, 2006 at 07:01 PM