Pink Posole (Korarchaeota in Kamchata)

syringe-1227872-1919x1275.jpgNot a euphemism.  Not even a thing, although, it’s possible.

….

If it isn’t fun, why are you doing it?  It is fun.  It is just a big slice of everything and that’s a tad overwhelming.

It isn’t perfect.

….

Fuck, I’m working on something and I don’t need to pressurize it to fit it into today’s canister.  It has something to do with oxblood ribbons and vasculums and all other sorts of nonsense and I am overflowing with interest, but my interest is requiring research for accuracy and so, instead, I flop at you.   3 cards, no faces.  A club, a spade, and a deuce of hearts.

+224 words of no great consequence.

I want to press my head against the sieve and let it all just be gushed out like the juice of a lemon.  After we complete this task, more water.  All the water, I can hardly get enough of it, I want to run around the snowy streets just lapping it up.  On second thought…no, no second thoughts.  Just cold water with cold ice in a clean glass and I will be yours until all the seas gang dry.

There really are no other words than the ones I am seeking and failing to find.

I can talk about the plan for next year.  The diet blog – I am not meant to put it that way, but I start to write lifestyle change blog and my hands cramp up, the blogging here daily to denote 500 words of creative working.  That feels like something I might do.

I could tell you, in the broadest sense, because the nature of the thing is to be untold and this is a place both for telling and for being unheard about the adventure.  It will be arriving by post.  It has made my stomach turn two days in a row which is saying something.

Enough!

 

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