Apercu of Paranoid Times genus

we are survival machines

Belvedere Jehosophat - Tuesday, February 26, 2008 - 19:26:55 - print it raw

Passerine are the ones that sit and wait, and in sitting and waiting uncover the unkindness of ravens, the conspiracy of ravens — methodical, orderly, neat, calm, serene.

(versus.)

Pelagic are the hunters that spit anticoagulants into the sea, and in spitting betray the element that has long sustained them — oh, patience,

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horse storie

Belvedere Jehosophat - Tuesday, December 4, 2007 - 21:32:03 - print it raw

Down by Msario’s and next to the S_dney Sign Compa_y, right under the high-tension power lines, is where they found the body of the horse and its rider. Equidae and the damage done, "death a shock," quipped a headline.

Electromagnetic fields organized into concentric circles, and a horse’s stride just long enough to bridge two. Neither the thin skin of the rider nor the relatively thicker, dirtier skin of the horse was enough to prevent the passage of charged particles. Paralysis of the respiratory and cardiovascular systems eventually coming as welcome relief from the burning skin and arteries newly choked by clots.

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Hallucinate standing here, standing near

Ethan Switch - Wednesday, June 20, 2007 - 12:06:08 - print it raw

Receding hare lines and the rabbits in suit take eggs from one end of the lot to the other, offering only as much as bearing the weight of dozens will allow. Cold is the air and in here, there is nothing close to warmth save for the slit opening the entrails to cover from head to toe. Warm is the death of another and that rules the way of the land, it is the way things work and the way things are.

Taking comfort in the comforter is of an effort in moderation. For food only is so much as a starvation away, the slight hint, a casual whiff of meat and the jaws relax to open again gnawing planes of teeth. Ground down from the top of the crown, looking only to erode away into the juicy morsels of gums. And chewing is a perspiration away from gentle sucking on the nerves fraying wildly about from the coexistence of the non-existent.

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Modern day explosionists and their distractions

Ethan Switch - Friday, March 9, 2007 - 23:47:17 - print it raw

See something, say something, do the work they know you may very well do for them. Campaign for the commuters against terrorism and such. They not otherwise taken by hours of lost sleep drooling on the shoulders of strangers and finding spasm attacks in the middle of a nap.

Observational black walks spot a mysterious and crafty munk of air quality control testing equipment currently holding tight to a pillar at Cityrail's Town Hall Station in Sydney.

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once we understand

Belvedere Jehosophat - Sunday, February 18, 2007 - 22:04:15 - print it raw

When a red flag is left in a pot plant on the fourth floor balcony of an apartment in a city with curiously little rainfall, rats abandon their quiet loyalties, unhinge their jaws, and in a flurry of squeaks, buzzes and clicks, divulge a secret of the state to an army of reporters.

This is the secret: "it is neither a grass nor a tree, but a strange relation of the lilies..." It is a bogus secret, though, mimicking rotting flesh, covered with hair and giving off the stupid smell of carrion.

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Breaking the crop off the muffin top

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

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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