Sunday, September 19, 2004

Anywhere, Buthere -

All cities are all cities. Take that sentence, dear reader, take it and do whatever you want with it. To your hearts content, you can bounce it around inside that imperfect sphere-like chunk of bone you call a skull. For all I care you can throw it in a blender, hit purée, pour it into a squat glass, and suck it through a Donald Duck straw. Go out right now and purchase the best meat grinder your funds will allow, feed through it that very line of words, and throw it on the barbeque. (Use a tangy sauce and season to taste - invite the neighbours!) You can hot-blend it, can it, and spread it on your toast next spring. Fold it up really small, tuck it inside that useless little pocket (you know, the pocket inside the other pocket) in your designer jeans, forget it there, and send those jeans through the washer. Cut it up, burn it, and bury it in the backyard. Feed it to the dog! Do any of these things, and that sentence will hold meaning, will still ring true. All cities are all cities. A sentence; a collection of common letters turned rare. Live by it.

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