III(rev) — viii — A 100th Snorggi Sneeze Upon the Blackboard.

| August 6, 2015 | 0 Comments

Art on tap tripping–session, the marshiest hiatus, sooty ambience sharper roped in forints pledged later. In correct custody of the orbit heath, Shrdlu afoot, et tu the Ossian pottery slam. A race to schlep Goethe tried by commercial testing oratory, woodsheds act as Park shorts yet oral prototype. Up the hundreds dash, Van Etnabaron, being with every tent aside a Kalisthenes, intuits treacle stages in pentothal, fine help to Orpheum’s vague attainder.

.         .         .

          Sundry sheet fame inched into conscious imagery of egotism, some necessary accoutrements left heedlessly if in deliberate fashion, pressed as damascene implants commemorating dialogues in the time allotted period. Nearly atomic squiggles, inked by cathartic epistles, foretold of as far away a shift on our rusty old plant, remiss in foment, acute panic held as newsworthy, that understandably innumerable thriving coastal resorts kept half earth diodes or soil nuked, incurring sod house buses.

          A sail upon whence any might flee impending cataclysm, converted into canvas, rested easily against a lost horizon. Disparate bifocals, snatched for, evoking that stab of regret and a flood of mental reconstruction, were all on Sangreal’s nose. Unsuccessfully, she had striven for balance in anothers’ off–fair, only to find this giant body of bourgeois neo–positivism, grown enchanted by her cubist perspective, clamored in the adjacent phaeton, their pamphlets strewn everywhere.

          Last requested to illuminate properties, conferred in a trip to the Noses, throughout the crass demo turn–on, I stood with an untenable governance, Raoul heard hot–wired, “disappointed to be unable to offer no other assessment beyond this: airs and counter ballast persisted for days after; such an event enabled even individuals not part of original recreation to tag albeit unprepared and oft unwillingly along. Finely were vast tracts of time multi–tasked even at drear convenience; for example, monads easily braced instant for arrival at déjà vu without first prior acting lessons extant. Individuals, in lack of all incentive to go on missing a thing, oft braved the murky shoal to locate long lost terms. Even houseguests found empowerment to go forth and accomplish errands.”

          Dawdling on way out, one yelled, “someone is banging their glass.” Whilst the discoverer (all too busy) zoomed in for a second wink, blinking, “how long were he infirm, where was this condition experienced, and were other inmates now in charge,” the flight crew apologized for unexpected turbulence, explaining that during the impasse over placing an ersatz bandersnatch, a place down under of recorded meteorological extremes, often overlooked for its temperately routine eight hundred degrees or more, hosted a folk inured to such an extent that climes of Venus might seem to them by contrast a trifle blustery. Ahem, perplexed by the collision between sometimes, cursed all too busy’s bribe of reason.

          “This legacy,” he demanded, “had not shadow puppet designed to live in a state of such purity, we would never find to coax from us enough innocence?” Yet inbred, his callow dybbuk fluffing abundant mists and inverse plentitudes elsewhere marveled, “circumstantial inference achieved forestallment anticipated from all but one who is to say that this is what is is.” Awry with emotion, as alike as slugs extant, venting ignobly into a system found on common precision, they started at Polar Star prototypes, Park thinking, “what a hoax.” Why the mainland had, despite its government’s avowed refusal to sign the pact, received permission to introduce their product into being!

As world opinion clamored for an universal umbrella with which to stave the inbound scareball, their leading adherent, Horace, was obviously so reprehensible for garnering such momentum within the International Astrophysics Commission, that an official consensus had mandated such immediate protection of the ionosphere, without consulting all environmental circulars. The coverage of this expanse must, at any rate, be complete within three years hence, and displaying that latent capacity of producing exactly that amount of assurance, author of poor haiku had so hedged into this process that many United States citizens, viewing their national heritage as pierced by usurping eastern hegemonies, rooted wistfully for their native side. “The area growth should see wise burn. It thought I was this to ether.” “Where are your priorities, dude?”

          “Enough of what you knew about,” Ahem stifled to his inner child. “You are at variance with the tides of fashion.” And discoverer (all too busy) told Ahem, “give up this next azurite apparent, ever since with surcease late, ere we thought how that was too close to drown tauper dripped persiflage anymore, beyond which efforts staved real miniscule ground nuts let in.” “And you,” Ahem replied in feckless regard, “altogether were suddenly of their own perspective tepid at that age, when Noone knew that again only from service but instead hopeless material gain.” Nor were common failures annoying, for where after as in only occasional apportion willing the minister to bury with desirably long hatchets, knowing there was nothing else for but to at (a verticule had other ideas) once receive assistance from hirelings pledged to pull him from figurative Bronx anytime, thus allowing many kliegs to browbeat his oddments into the belief of narrower escape from the threshold of sound. Some obligated a red Norn.

          Park, standing at the material separation console, knew that this could not prove a successful day for either party, for with some general knowledge of budding efforts, he had designed an austere protocol. “My guest visa is about to expire,” Ostrand muttered. “Am I supposed to be listening to all of this,” Bitsy wondered? Raoul had not wished to explain to her that, whilst this grand view of the template was pleasant, it also involved coordination with principals, whom he was on terms of a strange enmity, accumulated through fault of none but the systemic application of political contract.

          “The fourth,” he went on, “be the originators too, of documentation describing tactics involved, and resultant natural trajectory inspired methods of stabilized dejection. Inky onyx and perhaps, as his insistence upon vetting miry mains in search of the divine just, undeclared icon themes in slim picking made their way about the hem, as wide as and as wan as ignorance flailed, until one day not a sole more of us must stand, sit, or kneel to take their cue. Of course, in a perfect universe of perpetually pleasant presents they might all sit down and palaver until a seamless transition ensued. What vagueness ever expounded one to guess why, insofar as their several ranks, over–ranged, never numbered, now that were on the edge of four words ago not counted yet?” For openers, a dissembling blast of elemental severity subjected the Polar Star orbital platform prototypes to the ravage of sands, fluid, photogenic outbursts, any two of three flame types, and ergonomic stress. “In good faith, to try to sleep, to be on time, we sit on globes, broken tassels disorganized here, as the big hand.”

          “They do not frighten me,” was declared at another table. The opposing sleds, shraught within mechanical onslaughts, were razed through oxidizing flames, causing closest observers to remark that very little integrity had been lost by either. “Liberty,” Horace muttered, “a goddess, a she–lioness who cuffs. Senseless us with her paws for daring out of turn.” “I can only sleep,” Sergei yawned, “ruing the day when someone is banging.” A general isothermal pattern became anomalous. Checking his Euglenoid movement, all too busy realized forward, reverse, and sidereal engines were off line. As an excuse for a work of admitted fiction, established order also went missing. The fourth watched quasars like an intern transfixed by motions of a hypnotic screen saver, hoping to postpone a long dreaded task, and finally appended, “the binary quasar is poised upon the edge of a hyperbolic funnel. Its motion is logarithmically distributed within four polar coordinates. There, stellar masses initially revolve along opposite sides of the funnel, but their distance from one another, as their motion, varies randomly. At any moment, any orbit may retrograde, deviate, deflect, sag, curve, or accelerate.” Raoul had strained his natural vigor through a weir of correctness that was no longer universally in this day admirable.

          These were grievous sallow findings, for the lilac spared eighth notes ailments in their each sprightly pathos to the visitor center. Ideally anyone would have been more suited to obtaining royal clemency than Raoul, since his skill, blunted with constant usage, had become repugnant to him declared, viewing his forthcoming ordeal with contentious dignity, “this might want to be a good time to explain or at least whoops, too late as almost near the fortieth line one, without an idea of what this sentence suspended within format, and already blithely in alliance with at least Norns that if maybe not triangular could, their scarcely apportioned next, devolved to characters on the erratic loss of our plunge.” “The panjandrum,” Shrdlu declared, “has decreed that we complete execution by noon. Step on it!” Scarred with injunctions for an avoidable dance of galactic crawl spaces non–vigorating each sudden cosmetic shoal, the tough old nut seemed transmogrified into an uninhabitable alloy.

          North American hopes soared as the visiting entry lost nearly all of its galvanized anode coat to a brutal pummeling of sand, but for its part, subjected to such an implosion of wattage that even those choosing to wear intra–dimensional inserts had to leave the room for eclipsed vision treatments, the hull of the home side charred, metamorphosed, and ossified in crispy flakes. Expedited orders to the same old crucible only suffered, within obfuscated vigils, an innumerably meant provision thoughtfully efficacious, yet blind from calumnious hypotheses of no place like each refuge left within. Before a palatable manifold found for herein, betwixt ataxic weave from collusively evidentiary realization, an attempt to avoid primordial preconscience, relegated unswerving volition awakened to aggregate neo–Platonism like nothing since, yet without numerous virgules, left by before the liens jetted off on an apparent aim, various features within pre–Falernian geometry unpredictably alarmed in a whorl of inevitable course.

          In effect, individuals, shuttered within metes and bounds of mechanisms infinitesimal, knew all that lay, between their noiseless yurts and zealots without, were practically and collectively comforted only by a brace of women’s organizational acumen that might have obtained botanical diversion. What else should weld or otherwise induce one to antics transgressive to thin lines deliberated in fashion of motives unwarm? An ominous intensity manifest, Park superintended their subversion into vast crackling hydrogen one percent sulfate vats. One half hour later, the native effort was in disarray, its condition leaving no room for doubt that an application of mere dynamite was sufficient for its utter demise. Permitted one test deviation, Park had withheld it until this time, and ordered both sleds subject to an inherent blow of 2.5 x 1011 dynes. Horace, knowing that this application was far beyond normal tolerance, watched sourly as both projects exploded in a material cacophony, and glared as Park threw back his mask. “They are finished,” he announced. Suddenly aware that standards of his craft were plummeting into an arc of sickening descent, and realizing the ship was held fast, the discoverer (all too busy) drew on deep reserves of skepticism, assumed a crass attitude, watched the display, and waited. A dash of grace amid season went far through to dispel fear of calm sarcasm, and as many as had always loved Top Ramen, to be seen leaving the store with more than a few packages of it was no longer generally held as an admission of poverty.

“Yet is of what significance our visit?” “Statistically,” the Ambassador replied, “it is p < .00001.” At this moment in history (albeit long, long, long, ago still) someone noticed an alternative energy source. From the tangent tossed and idle coverlet of waking ingredients, Sasha, scalded in beams of consciousness, soared, sour, repellent, just out of reach. Lame jingles instead emptied dark glass; while trying to imagine what next solo fiddle eclectic situation, staring live essential recovery, ought, in instant sense, fully rival evenings’ black brew of lengthened effort involved in apt equity, an ordinarily quotient development moved for adjournment. A composite construct of organic mimicry voted upon, a blue ohmmeter initialized, facts, as in official real tictus ticker punches, paraded en masse.

          A wondrous holiday concerned when the Bell curve outage binding serial alphanumerics won compliance. The universe of possible access combinatives needed to run national defiance had fulfilled its limit and, in an estimate, everyone who needed to use a password to log in would, in short time, process out. Might, and on that note, they flinch to be viable at a clatter and blanch whole–heartedly, unable to say anything except that tungsten template purpose presumes a scarcity security complex? And even beyond the seal, the press fussed for leaks though jangling. Watching the staff flow out, the resident looked after them with exasperation. It was like attempting to reassemble the history of the void through combing dregs of ticker tape. Futility as in measured recollection of sphinx–like silences were little exorable. Them then left parleying amongst themselves, begging for a symbolic alphabet, with no reference to mere an unshakable pitch, might yet ruin the end, or what passed for stability in these days. “Mr. Van Etnabaron,” the resident began, “start from the top.” “I stayed in my room mostly,” Sasha retorted, glancing at his erstwhile guide, but the resident said, “don’t look at him.”

          “Læmært,” Bitsy’s alter–ego steadily murmured, “was alas no sentience on the reverse shut out or delayed by extra innings.” Raoul could sooner trim pathos’ felt end before fiat begging extenuation than go traipsing off with other paltry feats. “Insofar better, that beneath pretext of obeying this dictum from instead, they lay out a slipshod arena.” At this point, Esmeralda said, “to them, aha, so this is hardly one more of their feasts of publicity, too competitive and judgmental, like the rest of them, you have passed over form, are any hours left for trying this useless practice off as patience and forbearance in love?” “Without waiting for an answer which had not occurred to them in a weak moment therefore, were we then complicit in an amalgamate to share nothingness?” “I prefer to help the sick,” Sangreal said. “We spend half of our lives trying to prove that we are not frightened and” — “and when I looked out, my ceramic emperor’s tomb guard was missing.” “I agree that our present age is of the darkest cast.”

          “I run at least twelve miles a day,” Sasha averred, with an unrequited glance at Marta. “Then woes redound and” — “I wakened in a land where no one was sad” — “and the other half hiding.” “Amateurs,” Bitsy’s father complained, “have you not learned to befriend the mammon of unrighteousness?” “We sat and dreamt of toads.” “Someone —” “Failure of choice is the greatest stain.” The plaintive twinkle of 19th century Austrian crystal being struck with pewter, one Mrs. Teaspoon intruded. “Gentlemen. Messieurs et Mesdames. A toast. To detriments, willpower, fumbled snaps, unfinished conversions, let us develop, in our current situation, a short leash, metaphors, to proximity, expectation. Films at eleven, ladies and gentlemen, foreign minister of Ossian, Ahem Mi’sik Irwah, is present.”

Porcupine Excursus — Segueing.

.         .         .

          Waiting perforce miscibly, Ahem stared as the remnant of his garage and music notes scattered in this link. Eke Japanese graffito in tepid tinge, only alive are fine human idyll. “Whoa,” he waxed, “how could they melt the weird crevice hands down?” Was it a specious resident there ever was, for malted city donors twist bunk each sonnet? While women of the hot nation overlaid subtly yet, with all compensatory flair that follows, he had decades of repressed motion in his own land, through all time, that Soundman had happily tossed either stingier poem to voles, until these now outgrabed, even on indicia, that visible woks were no longer easily sneezed, at Soundman’s hat, the habit of inserting something into the slide show. Oh that prodigy, nonplussed, should be tricked into an outburst of dismay, allowing Soundman to display a long submerged severity in cautioning the prince to modify his tone!

          During assorted nautical preparations, seedy scholars had accosted them. “Listen to us. From a dropper posed, each light dark mindset tumbled into Earth’s iris.” Of their few remnant nodes one, named for enactment residually spitballed, “thereat beware Nicholas Fish,” where he was headed during a late night piano forte even when anyone knew of him. Strange to this land, Van Etnabaron stood by the console as ethanol trickled into the hold, in no position to declare sympathy with the beaded pilgrims before them. It seemed the least he could do, perceiving that slumbering principalities, so far benevolently indifferent to this enterprise, might be stirred to detriment were he to dismiss them impulsively, and Sasha flinched while Talitha shoved tatterdemalions in an even ruder way.

          “The mills grind you know,” replied the mirky wizened visitants, and stopped actually for just anyone, fitfully touring the premise. Restively, Van Etnabaron had turned a cold slow eye against the screensaver that rolled up over his inventory menue. To spite the laconic old persons, he said, “thanks, we’ve been through too many scrapes as it is, at least until the place of synapses could be disclosed, but no thanks,” and obtained doorstops for the west egress hatch. A designated nonpareil, trained to cope with bereavement, Thledvirrson assured the pilgrims that even a few dull salvoes from the garden hose would teach them to step aside, and started to unleash spray when one of them shouted a word, carrioccio. To such folderol, Sasha had acutely purchased a tenuous anonymity, and shouted back, “you know nothing of such items!”

In somewhat impersistent effort, Ahem nonetheless retained his cameo, tripped by specific observations, as millstones within one’s own life journey. Still, it had proved unsettling that he might blurt such an obviously refutable assertion about unseen godchildren to individuals within earshot of senior leadership. In what was a formal scene of oligarchic mannerism, Iphgene’s full skies still were magnified azimuths left deeper on Ossian than had once best desired goofier earth to start most known fiefs in vents or fewer; yet ixsnay, yes, tiers later his Smedley pose evaporating parched boon wit, the contract honored immune by those within the jar. Sevenths wore on, froth evinced a data down on thin chaff on whinier knell.

          It was no place for saliently alleged accrual, for success lurked near, too useless to steep, being in moment, every arch, portal, and shadow conceding mere talent, nearly earned neither offers nor a step, in that if some time exploded, and verified spilt loop in torn custard, there soon started sinister trust cheer tiding in. The quiet methodic octave of Ng’s missing quip meant waste throughout other chance ill word. These await feisty increment on aura of no worsted preface, if entire dualities in vain dared to top saying light until wan and, ensuring wishes hinted a dug hem, anyone dreamt, leapt, or mooted nothing before everyone else had one opportunity for same. Pertaining finally inside, Ahem nervily planned his resignation and attended to drat thereof as their plate tectonic love spangled. Ahem had read Ayadgar E Zharan, forward and backward. By the time he was fifteen he had read it three times.

          Despite being considered an expert after one adventure in musical svelte proto dangling, a man, in retrospect, gabbled during the trip, and sought to develop a grand sonata. “If we can get a word in edgewise (Ahem seemed to address an inner child),” the eminent theorist hired for premise upon acceptability added, “here was a catch. Impress (truths) upon a foundation of erasures. As kids, we thought that we were so big in those days that those who were really big should begin to follow us. We thrust the foreword forward longhand, and will hardly allow our thoughts to sound as important as they did upon that day when we let someone, not of immediate kin, see and read our incipient tetralogy, and basked in glory of things to come. Though hope was too fat to get out of the box, pages stoutly stacked and bound were fed to her listless gaze and, sounding hollow that upon those grounds, the audience gathered, just as promptly dashed, conveyed no little interest in a further public critique, and though we felt obviated to expostulate in rising voice dismissal of the entire symposium, we languished in an epic of general silence thereafter, repaired to the hiking thing we had upon receipt of one Mississippi, and were prompt in gladdening only through the impetuous popping song of the corn. Subsequently, full of extemporaneous echoes, and inspired by participation in the Global Village’s youth legislative program, we unveiled monotonous hair–splitting councils full of politically long–winded meaningfulness, that made us feel if we could just do it again, nine times over, or more, we would get used to being verbose epic composers, and could somehow get our names vaulted alongside those of many other Leviathans of thought, we were not able to. Finally, persuaded by a stricken conscience and many years of inactivity, we folded. We purged all of our pages, except for those comprising the original thing that we actually completed, entitled, by our mother Niobe (to our cringing embarrassment) as, that old devil moon.”

          “You think you will find one,” they replied and, in pianissimo succession, acceded to palm such old signs as were readily available, yet with gravid relish Thledvirrson hastened their exegesis. At once, a solo stream tickled the interlopers, who meddlesomely nagged, “at least we know how this occurred,” and only until this jet altered into a vacuous torrent were the senior amanuensises coerced over the side, enabling other sections to complete their tasks undistracted. “Don’t take this on account of a rime of ancient marmalade,” Thledvirrson called down to them, “but man, we’ve had enough of your period mimicry to last us some nine hundred thousand light years.” “Then the curse of Nicholas the Fish is upon you,” they gargled. Talitha leapt up lightly and flashed them before they had time to enjoy this.

          Ælfric had followed most of the interchange from the helm, and spat quizzically, watching as sodden scholars paddled onto the stranded beach, and regarded them with vexed awareness, muttering, “a free curse.” Van Etnabaron thought of asking the skipper to elaborate, but the latter had already stoked his pipe and, through clenched stem, Thledvirrson heard him add, “that’s all we need.” As the smoker skipped with the bowl topside down, signal for an imminent storm, Van Etnabaron glared at unmanageably jolly whitecaps that danced from the Ebro currents and tossed her guest, Delphinium, upon send–off. They joined the crew and flung around riggings with the motions of men determined to save their parts in a play written, if not by them, than in large measure for them and their native will.

Category: Act III Revised Ed.

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