Ancient apercus from January 2007

Down the sidewalk first thing tomorrow

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, January 31, 2007 - 23:30:11

Crumple up the knees, leeches are on the left nostril and working their way back into the right ear. Batting does no good as half of the pain is imaginary. And as all gnomes know, there is nothing more wretched than the imagination. Gnomes, apparently, sprout up in the most moist gardens of all places. An appearance in the bare scratch that lies the plains is most obscene for the scene of pale green.

Frenzy is nothing short of a circuit cut loose and tapping into the veins. Paths lead to all sorts of places, as the paces of cohorts trip up the wires and wrap them neatly, tightly and ever so rightly around the necks of the wrinkled few. A spot of water and it's the dash into the dew which renders the appearance of things a slightly crinkled affair.

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Breaking the crop off the muffin top

Ethan Switch - Friday, January 26, 2007 - 23:55:18

Quiet is the hush into the crashing sensation that is known across the XXXX swilling land as the long weekend. Glorious hope of quivering doubt that the tallies report from the nation's roads will at least net a double digit figure.

From coursing the sealed, it's highly unlikely that zombies will number any of the crumpled. Certainly not if the warning sounded by The Porcelain One known as Nicole Kidman reaches the shores down under to at least holiday the weekend away.

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Future head borrowed a gun, refused to die

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, January 24, 2007 - 23:51:49

Drool hardy, drool fast and drool with the intent to peer back into the swill of the past. For the fermenting is all that the saliva will come good for and there is nothing that sweat will break. Stew it broken in the broth made with the wings and legs of the birds captured by the sun. Tasty is their meat, wretched be the beaks that jam in and craw a crow call.

Back into the corner, where there are only three walls and no ceiling to hold, the red paint stinks as it sticks to the feet and soles. Souls of which burn in the heat of stomping out the juice that makes more of the paint. Clearly not the best of paint, the hue fades and blackens hours after application.

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Dream a thousand times of a smiling immortality

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, January 17, 2007 - 23:57:31

Beauty is in the eye of the tiger balm. Mysterious concoction made not from the gristle, gargle or fat of tigers, but of other, more mundane ingredients. Such as a sniff of intensity, burning desires and a spread of concentranlasted heat.

Patch weak cure for what ails most of the falling few who choose to latch onto the lip of the bark plate. Deep rubbing into the wound or hole of the soul links up the hope with a sense of burning nostril hairs. Respite from the pain last no more than a minute or two and crashes the mind into a state of delirium when the highs burn the wings of the naked fire.

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Come to negotiate, come to change the world

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, January 10, 2007 - 23:47:29

Exercise is waking up and feeling the muscles stretch out as the pulse comes making red of the blue lines deep under the shallow skin. Every day is a new day to succeed. It's also another opportunity to veer towards failure.

Failure, as the rumours go, is what makes the days of joy in triumph all the more sweeter. They say that, though they can never truly prove its worth as abysmal days rule over that of anything shining more than the light after a heavy down pour of defeat, sadness and pity.

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Holiday road toll score shy and down under 2006

Ethan Switch - Sunday, January 7, 2007 - 23:27:13

Clear away the debris, it's time for a short order cook with body plates to serve 63. During the summer, England were not the only ones being pulverised as they saw their first whitewash defeat at the hands of the Australians for the first time in over 86 years of The Ashes.

National holiday road toll target numbers, up last year an astonishing event from that of 2005, left the mark high to hit for the close out in 2007.

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Come on and kill, just like the first time

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, January 3, 2007 - 23:47:42

Cool breeze in the pants, where the air is warm and moderate, and a head hard against the cleavage of a fresh cut base rock. Breathing drops deep into the appendix, still lingering despite the massive spoils of self-inflicted attempts to remove it with barbs found by the crab grass.

As the sweat trickles down the nose, it's a reminder that perhaps only clean hands should wipe the brow. At least in an attempt to clear the trail and path of foreign agents liable to run a blind into the eyes.

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