Yim and the Notepad

I took some notes as
I was walking around the campus the other day of things I overheard. They are these:

"I'm sick of hearing all your lies"

"Pass me the salt"

"...and I wouldn't lie to use" ??

"You spilled my life down a cataract"

"I might as well just pack my bags"

"I'll buy a one-way ticket"

"All there is is regret"

"My life is flashing for my eyes"

"My lentils and my wire rags...a candle with a wicket" ???

"I'll live on in Tibet"

"Dust you threw in my face..."

Most of these were to people on the other end of phone lines, or else to their message inboxes.

King Jungle- a variation on another monarch

So I'm up on the 11th floor, I'm watching all the fire trucks below.
It's hard to get a feeling in the hands- it's hard because it's so cold. The waitress at the counter at the bar said she get done in the morning. I've been handling this situation so well, I've been down right golden child, breaking the rules quite nicely and sniffing up the last of the Imperial Sand Dust that my agent dropped off. I say oh my!
In the evening the creeps and the local home bodies make their way out. In the morning I'm awaked by the sound of a neighborly shout.
I say, "Who's there? What's all this happening and why did I get left out?"
They say, "Don't worry it's not goodness," and the telephone rings, to say the various things and then the bellboy throws up and someone calls the third floor to send a magical cure- and there's enough for us all, yeah, there is enough for us ALL!
Oh and the waitress with the bippity boopity bang laughs like a maniac out in the rain, and then she leaves with my gold watch and my skivies.
Oh kay.
I'd say right now this week is hitting it's lull and the hotel gets full.
It's just too stuffy with the suits and the ties and their various goons. All tied up in their various rooms. Hot dog! Oh, yo ya! What did it mean when everybody was clomping around? Was it a sign or was it just natural order, like the song of the sea, and the law of the land and the jungle is king with the wave of its hand- it gets cut down.
yeaow.

Traction

It has been apologized for that the previous two entries were happened. It seems that somehow there was miscommunication and these things became in the publication, without the beknowngst of the editor, -ed.
So in light of this unfortunate event that was turned, it will be necessary to redistribute the blame accordingly, i.e. so that some body is getting the feeling hurt.
It was proposed that the best possible solution to any problem is the most obvious one, and often this is the most noble gesture as well, in the event of such things being applicable. It this case, it seems that the most obvious fix is one of anecdote.
This actually did happen in a manner of speaking, in the old times when it was the olde tymes.
A farmer, we shall call 'Hen' was plowing his field when he came upon a rose in the dirt. Thinking nothing of this, he plowed over it, but soon to his surprise, there was a complete rose garden in the place where he had plowed the rose. This was a surprise, like I said, and he was startled, so much so that he died. In the end, it was the roses from this bush that they placed upon his coffin, and in an ironic twist, he was seen several years later all goggly eyed and zombiesque holding the exact same roses or some of equal complextion. The local paper refused to print this story, until it was found out that the local paper editor was merely a bigot, and also using the Handy Buglehorn as a front for money laundering and extortion and gambling and etc. So actually, several years later they printed a retraction, which was actually the original article as it should have appeared, so it was a traction. This is widely regarded as 'quite fine'.

and Teply

Ok, first of all, I never probably said that about the ik and whatnot- I know I did say that your brand of philiosophy is verbose and uncultured, and like a refuse doll to be held. That is accurate. And secondly, this talk about flux and flow- it's old news! I made this argument three years ago! Check the August 2005 issue of the Philosopher's Glove and you see that I've likened the philosophy to a bear hunt. Sneaking but not finding, until a find is made and all hell breaks loose! It's not exactly flux and flow, but it is an animal allegory philosophical tie-in. You rat! Although I do agree that the obersever is perhaps the pinnacle of philosopher. Just make the point without thieving, you snark!
In accuatlity, I would say that what we percieve to be real, is the boundary of what we are willing to contemplate. If it falls outside that realm, then it is nonsense. So one must reign in the entirety of the universe, or else one must consider things that seem wacky. I mean REALLY WACKY! Like feet heads and whatnot. Refute that, if you can!
Highest regards,
Fane Kiela, PhD

A letter between a Rivaly

Sometimes it is as though life is essentially a hoard of spinning birds, all conglomerated into a busy maniacal monstrosity, with a few perks. One of which is the color ratio, which is constantly in a state of flux and flow. Another good thing is the sound of it all, which is quite deafening, but also very inspiring, much like an impressive shout of some foreign anacronism into your ear.
I, as a miniscule observable in this whole mess, have concluded that being a bird watcher, or some watcher thereof, is essentially like being a philosopher, in that you are dealing with the same medium.
Kindly rebuke me, Mister Kiela, if you can find it in your cold and shrivled heart to even respond to my drivel, or as you have so famously referred to it, "the never ending seep of verbal ik" that I so brazenly toss about.
Regards,
Loois Feldt

Classic Studies in Public Speech, Part LV

Excerpt from a speech given by Nande Olivieum at the commencement of the graduating class of 1062 from Elkswood Yearly College of Art & Texual Engineering:

And I didn't claw my way to the top of the orange barrel only to be diest!
Verily! You must make of what you have good!
And do not listen to the hacks and cails of the Moebites! NO!
Only the ruthless survive in the wilderness!
EVOLVE!
Do not fall prey to petty rumblings, or sit piously below the shelves of injust.
CLAW YORE WAY UPIT!
Indeed, the way of spirality is calming, but ye I say it will gnaw yore bones like cave lice. Leave the herbs alone.
ANd pray ye gods to rain on ye thought, for without this we are REAFUES!
I am oft reminded of the pennywhistling of my youth, with the sunshone and peet grass.
FOOLISHNESS!!
The past is dead and ye with it if ye know of it!
AAAARRGHH!
Be calm, ye, and fin.

How to Dine

In the pretense of a dinner, one must know how to dine. It is not inbred, but it is learned from the elderly, but not too elderly, because rules change as the seasons- in multiples of two, or four a year.
This year, the rules of dining are somewhat flax, due to the dripping economy, they say. But oh so well, here it goes:
In the event of a dinner invitation, do reconcile the invitation to the invitor, with full explanation to the reasons for attending, if these are known. If these are not known, skip down to rule I.g.
In the event that the dinner is an outside affair, do not wear paper stockings, bee helmets, or honey gloves, as they will attract children and froglings and gophers, respectively. Please make it utmost try to only touch what must keep you off the floor and the ground- don't play in the pinecones especially because they have wickedness.
In the event that the dinner is indoors, please disregard the previous rule, but harken to the "don't touch, don't ask" rule.
If one is asked to pass a thing, do it swiftly and with vigor, as though the thing itself is a poison-laden snapping turtle that your sworn enemy has so foolishly asked you to hand to him/her. Of course, this is not the case, and if it is, then please refer to "Social constructs of the 20th Century and beyond" by Laura Tinah. This will set you straight.
But seriously, do pass the food in such a manner, because it conveys a sense of insane honor, that invites conversation and exclamations like "Well!"
Never, under any circumstances eat with your hands flapping around your face and your head bobbing. This is what foolish children do when they have oxygen-brain type of problems, and your host will not like it.
If you do have a sickness that invades you suddenly and with passion, wail, and leave in an immediate fashion.
Be sure to wail every so often so they do not send a "go and see where so and so went to" party.
If jello is served, please only look at it and smile and laugh and nod appreciatively and talk about being a baby in the city, when you were one, and if you were never one, you may eat the jello immediately and with vengeance.
There are so many other rules.
Don't spit unless spat at,
Don't leave the dinner until asked twice,
Don't leave anything behind by accident,
Offer to clean the bathroom, but not your plate, as it is sign of disrespect.
It is always a good idea to notice things, and then comment on them later, as someone begins a story about their political aunt.
Sing cheers, etc.
[You must purchase the book "How to Dine" By Blaine Yenna to read the rest of the rules]