‘…Afb Elmendorf …’ mumbled the alms man, ‘…Afb Elmendorf…’. ‘…e i e i e…’ whelped the shamble leg man. ‘…tomorrow is another day…’ cautioned Dr. Ragama squinting, ‘…unclench…’. ‘…there’s nothing like fresh eggs and ham…’ said the man who liked boysenberry jam and cod cheeks. ‘…get ‘em me boys, e i e i…’ hollered the captain of the Yekaterinoslav constabulary (Екатеринославъ). ‘…tomorrow is another day…’ whispered the man in the hat, ‘…another day altogether…’. ‘…the Masons have a strange way of making sense of things…’ said the second in command of the Yekaterinoslav constabulary (Екатеринославъ). ‘…strange indeed…’ said the third and fourth, ‘…very strange…’. ‘…never trust a book by its flyleaf…’ said a man who could not be trusted. ‘…the day will begin when it begins…’ proclaimed Dejesus, ‘…not a moment before…’.
And as such the day began, until no one had anything further to say. Having said nothing I have already said too much. The pot thickens; stewbone, cord tendon and peameal rashers; all for one and one for all, away with you, scat! Having said too much I have said nothing; I have yet to begin to speak. Days begin and end without my having anything to do with it; all one can do is hang on for dear life, then what, one has spoken too little too much. Stop. Today you will find the peace and contentment you have for so long searched, right under the holes in your nose; spouting niceties, all for one and one for all, now scat, you lowly dog, scat!
Today the man in the hat would start, start the day, from the middle; somewhere between yesterday’s memories and tomorrow’s awakening. There is no difference, very little at best, the morrow comes too quickly too soon too fast. Now scat you nasty buggers, scat! He will awaken to yesterday’s memories, or what is left of them, memories, thinking of ways to count to one-thousand-and-one backwards, one 2 three 4 and so on so... Dispensing with niceties and glad tidings, what he remembers he remembers best, what was once a moment in the present, a faint glimmer of the present in the middle, away from the beginning and the end; now scat you mangy dog, scat! Later he will dispense with dispensing, be done with it all, present, past and almost past. There’s no use in fretting, no damn use at all; now scat, you lowly dog, scat!
And as such the day began, until no one had anything further to say. Having said nothing I have already said too much. The pot thickens; stewbone, cord tendon and peameal rashers; all for one and one for all, away with you, scat! Having said too much I have said nothing; I have yet to begin to speak. Days begin and end without my having anything to do with it; all one can do is hang on for dear life, then what, one has spoken too little too much. Stop. Today you will find the peace and contentment you have for so long searched, right under the holes in your nose; spouting niceties, all for one and one for all, now scat, you lowly dog, scat!
Today the man in the hat would start, start the day, from the middle; somewhere between yesterday’s memories and tomorrow’s awakening. There is no difference, very little at best, the morrow comes too quickly too soon too fast. Now scat you nasty buggers, scat! He will awaken to yesterday’s memories, or what is left of them, memories, thinking of ways to count to one-thousand-and-one backwards, one 2 three 4 and so on so... Dispensing with niceties and glad tidings, what he remembers he remembers best, what was once a moment in the present, a faint glimmer of the present in the middle, away from the beginning and the end; now scat you mangy dog, scat! Later he will dispense with dispensing, be done with it all, present, past and almost past. There’s no use in fretting, no damn use at all; now scat, you lowly dog, scat!
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