Dear thank you for going Stasi* — Reach out touch Faith




*~. But most importantly, because this ain’t no disco, no C.B.G.B’s. (punto y coma) Eye ain’t gots Thyme for that now, —Ewe know.

It’s “like a Japanese CAT”, knot like a fucking horse.


In local news, The Our Lady of Los Ángeles ☄️⚾  Philharmonique is playing next to Marie-Ange’s Bagagerie, it’s a West(side)Story Engagement, nothing to see here, move along… and never mind them police barriers at Sarah’s Théâtre.

The Devil is in a Sharp dressed man 👞 , never mind the details or las bienvenues et départs when Youse down and out near Montparnasse, and dear Marie-Ange Schiltz this is the slot where the dearly departed are always welcome, and where the “Mini-Madrina” snapshot from the other day comes in, unfortunately Denis Soula and Susana Pubeda hijacked my British-Queen bitch segment… any how here’s the TEA on that walkabout session that closes the Month of September. ENTER Alexander.

… continued from Schiltz’ « Daily homeless (W/OFA (güo’FA) » :

Alexander, mon cher Alexander, aux raisonnements incertains, au débit saccadé mâtiné d’un fort accent britannique, quasi incompréhensible. Anglais, je lui
trouve de la classe. Il fut professeur, dit-on. Alexander écume Paris, je marche
beaucoup. Nous nous sommes plusieurs fois reconnus du côté de Montparnasse.

¶5,  p.181

Fin de page

Stop making sativa sensi, sensei!

Is this not the Python moment you All were waiting for?

Très british, il tient la distance. Notre surprise explose joyeuse et sincère sur le trottoir. Comme toujours, nos interactions s’arrêtent aussi brusquement qu’elles ont commencé. Alexander reprend son chemin, moi le mien. On se retourne, on se salue. Nous n’avons rien verbalisé, et pourtant, je sais qu’il est aussi heureux que moi de la rencontre inopinée.
¶1, p. 182

Note to whomEva’ gots’ the control of fip dot fr right now:

Jesus will fix, IT!, for you.
Just like Jesus fixed
Louis “the just’s” 13th Hot Rod.

Enter the Rhapsodes… knot to be tied to°get°her° {nor} confused with Snoop Dogg’s rendition of Freddy Mercury’s “Murder Was The Case That They Gave Mí” because, d’Aubignac’s (and I quote) « [H]istory of archaic Greek performances justified his theory of THE STICHED-To°Get°Her° corpus³ ». In this sense, Sensei, the Iliad was a sort-of-middle-of-the-road, Frank Zappa kind of quilt in the form of ‘little poem tragedies’, not DRAMAS performed by actors but “hymns or canticles” that Greek princes had performed (JUST like the Just King at the beginning of Ken Russell’s THE DEVILS film) at their feasts³³.”


“And since they did not always have poets on hand for new works, they decided to take the episodes or detached pieces from those who had some reputation, and those who plied this trade were called Rhapsodes—they not only sang, but also danced gracefully and artfully expressing with their bodies the sense of the verse. …”,
Theiss, p. 85



I know where you get yer’ Chinks from now.

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