A walk:
Bare nubs limbed standing crawl across the surfaces of unwritten rules;
A rainstorm is nothing but the clouds coming down for a visit.

A joke:
Limbs reel curled up some of them on themselves like fingernails in record-books;
A yoke a day will never keep time itself from passing, or from applying the brakes before hitting those large puddles.

A mall:
Two are left under threatened heady earfulls of pocky ins;
Tim was supposed to be here but the underdetermination of the theory prevented him from making any progress.

The goit:
Mill pole temps were standing so close that meiosis never actually happened;
Stink prawn drip filled the lower half of God before any measurements were made.

A fine:
Ding Dong Financial Crisis practice at 1:00 or 1:20;
Bring all tender electronics intact and fully charged.

A dole:
Mick and Michael were walking down the road one day;
When several thatched roofs collapsed in Southern Nairobi.

[Sisal do, sisal don't, sisal wean, sisal wont;
Sisal cream.]

A dread:
Thirty tricky ugly cans full of sixty muddy clams;
And not a gold-bloat castle to be found for miles.

A dead cow:
Porcelain finger-shadows rarely crack unless provoked;
But watch out for plexiglass neuroses on top of hills.

A frond:
Viry dings on that one would be like Connect-The-Dots if we could;
Punch a pebble or grab a pen, same thing.

A uke:
Ghould did what Time needed him to do for recs;
Probably sixty or more small bones were forgotten in small animals in small ducks.

A hut:
You'd the cud spray with reckless recklesslessness;
Dear cousin Hud got bitten by good bog-dig bugs.

A line:
Dinal pruned heat north of Yore prisk shore;
Just south of where the huckleberry grew until nineteen-sixty-forty-two.

A deer:
Plucker here plucker there for new hunt coats;
It or that will be what sets us loose.

A full skin poat:
A thin drink of thin milk poses the one big one;
New songs uploaded daily, hourly.

A aisle catcher:
Carried wheel tap indices from the well-lit to the groundwater;
Heady door way in there where nothing can't be unfiltered.

A nine:
Jaw reeler thrawn day runner for about six minutes or so;
Plus three from the one before that one.

"Consider Methuselah. At the age of 100 he still remembers his childhood. But new memories crowd out the old. At the age of 150 he has hardly any memories that go back before his twentieth year. At the age of 200 he has hardly any memories that go back before his seventieth year; and so on. When he dies at the age of 969, he has hardly any memories that go beyond his 839th year. As he grows older he grows wiser; his callow opinions and character at age 90 have vanished almost without a trace by age 220, but his opinions and character at age 220 also have vanished almost without a trace by age 350. He soon learns that it is futile to set goals for himself too far ahead. At age 120, he is still somewhat interested in fulfilling the ambitions he held at age 40; but at age 170 he cares nothing for those ambitions, and it is beginning to take an effort of will to summon up an interest in fulfilling his aspirations at age 80. And so it goes."

.
.
.

Horrendous Sentences

.
.
.

Nothing happened, and nothing happened was the quality of the leaves and the flavor of the humid air in there—it was a closed set, and contained its own boundary.

Those of us who didn’t get to walk through the door early must have waited hours there with our bloody eyebrows and salty ankle-water, tap-tapping our heads on the wall in lieu of a bang and carrying our grayscale books obediently back and forth and rarely opening them; those of us who were in the bathroom or at our mothers’ funerals when it shut crisply and soft did not then understand how different it would become on the one side from the other and though the wire woven into the glass was from the culture of years gone and passed we knew it was still real and still it kept us well--kept us like the river flows down the plain, like batteries run out, like dictionaries become obsolete and eventually need to be replaced--and circling we tried to keep clean by licking ourselves and propositioning each other, continuing to grow hair and continuing not to need it while we practiced lying to each other and to the walls and their bricks and to the bricks and their molecules and to the molecules and their atoms and to the atoms and their nucleons, their neutrons especially.

Dreaming hard thoughts,
Mastering true poems,
Learning all news,
Wondering certain densities,
Answering mailed questions,
Averaging diverse multitudes,
Speciating me thoroughly,
Spreading thin layers,
Salting said layers,
Using extra towels.

That day on the barge was dry and hot like a buttered napkin in the oven and we walked the terracotta with blistered feet and moist genitals. The translator was in bed, having been in bed for fourteen hours at that after-noon moment, complaining of abdominal heat and mellifluous trachea, a pair of symptoms to be dreaded in that day of White Plague, or H2P1-Nrh2h4 virus. We dragged our shoulders and feet, slippery with sweat, across the Dry as the salt spray played spritely with the sunlight and chance: later that day we would kill a dog in the street while two others, copulating on the wheel-worn ridgy bricks, watched.

It appears to me that it must appear to anyone making the head-size argument contra learnability that a system completely located within some finite region of space simply cannot contain an infinite amount of information.

I. Is the brain certainly a finite physical object?

A. If so in space, is it also in time?

II. Assume the learner to be certainly and finally finite.

A. Does it contain an infinitude?

i. No.

B. Is knowing-some-language containing-all-sentences-of-the-language?

i. Yes, and none of us knows any language.

ii. No.

a. Knowing-a-language is knowing-whether-or-not-a-given-sentence-is-a-sentence-of-that-language.

b. Knowing-a-language is potentially-generating-any-sentence-of-that-language.

III. What is a language?

A. An infinite set of sentences.

i. No.

  

  

This sentence is false.

  

  

Joey: ok

Yo: ok

oh

Joey: ok

15:34 Yo: okay

Joey: k

Yo: ok

Joey: k

Yo: well, ok

15:35 Joey: maybe

i could

i can

i might

maybe

15:36 Yo: ok

http://www.frankrusso.net/pictures/Frank_at_52.jpg

In a chain composed of a plurality of links including at least one forked portion having two parallel extending fork members provided with respective coaxial bores, at least one bearing eye portion provided with a bore coaxial with the bores in the forked portion, and a chain bolt extending through the bores in the forked portions and the bearing eye portion to hold those portions together, the chain bolt being secured against axial displacement and rotation relative to the forked portion, the chain bolt is provided at one of its ends with a through hole transverse to the axis of the bolt, a recess is formed in the outer surface of the forked member adjacent the through hole, and a pin which is longer than the through hole is inserted therein and has its protruding portion engaging in the recess when the bolt is fully inserted, thereby to prevent rotation of the bolt relative to the forked portion.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_c_reilly

by Yvonne Todd

"Nitzer Ebb began when Douglas McCarthy met Bon Harris. They shared an interest in witchcraft, talking to trees, and collecting rune stones in Chelmsford and Little Baddow, England, UK." -wikipedia

A forked link comprises two prongs, each of which has a bearing eye. The bearing eyes are coaxial and adapted to receive a pivot. A screw drive is disposed between and operatively connected to said prongs and operable to cause said prongs to spread said bearing eyes apart and to move them toward each other.

Milfred's third Stand

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Being Bamboo by Brian Bress

Well, I do reckon I saw somethin' er other like that in the long summerdays o' conifer huntin';
Westward to the shores o' the blessed isles, I felt a hankerin' to discover what lay below the sea.
There was a short pause:
Babie Blowfish!
"Of course!" I said to my companion, Hyscifer.
He was a rude man with no comparison to myself...
I do not consider myself rude.
Of course,
I am
Rude!

- Horace Wilderby, 2007

Joey: trails

Yo: FRANDID

Joey: candy

13:18 Yo: KRAMBLE

Joey: Estudrannnely

Yo: SKRUUUUNPLAY

Joey: Scooy

Yo: POROONTILUN

Joey: Cealurians

Yo: CHIGURH

Joey: CagOIll

Yo: ANDONIUS

Joey: Nolly FRippssle

13:19 Yo: AND YES

Joey: Trest

Yo: LETS

no

Joey: loke

Yo: no

Joey: sory

Joey: yeah

i'm not worried

its ok if its bad

or not

excellent

Yo: ya

im not worried either

the erth is here and here we are

15:53 Joey: yes

cove