🚀 go-pugleaf

Standing at my lime kiln lectern, looking over the audience for an
M. as heckler, fencingly defending my right to be very right and his
right to correctly tell me I'm very wrong: in Listening With Intent,
anything that is said may be taken down and crumpled up to be
propelled by catapulterior motives if only desultorily at the opponent
in catch if catch can, and, this place being mire enough to sustain
oneupmano'warship, catch if catch cannot, with no solemn decorum to
weigh against the hell of it: tell you what, you(-done-me-no-wrong)
could always try adding whatever measure of dignity you retain to my
own negative quantity, divide by two (2), and, there!, we'd be quits,
though not, I should hope, quit.  Shelters, m'dear, be they of the bus
or nuclear variety, do not rilly have to DO anything @anywhere: by their
mere essence and presence they serenely provide a sureness aidful in
dealing with whatever minor peril(l)-doings may arise.  As for the
froth of ephemeralia, I cannot complain: it's seldom malicious (though
occasionally inquisitive), it's fully unpredictable, sometimes
absorbing, and never in my life have I had the opportunity to closely
observe a scorpion, except perhaps in my more paranoid imaginings,
scuttling around in biscuit-tins or disguised as gr4302's favourite
attar of roses.  And, even if one Tuesday I should awaken and, suddenly
feeling a wish for the Taj Mahal to be superimposed on my horizons,
watch it gather shape outside my door, skull&crossbones suspennanted
from the highest point, I could not believe in the Enemy omnipotentative
any more than I do now.  I do not precisely know the rulessons of
counterespioneiric communication, nor those of unchartered sideways-
listing, but insteadfastly maintaint that anything whatsoever said in
fallen-from-chaise mode (& that second signature brought on a verie
merrie Smile: it had been nearly a year since last I observed it) is
a truth to be held and beheld self-evidentrancingly, no matter how
weary or lacking in syllables the said partie lately parted from a
swivel perch may be, and [jellyfish] has always rung true in its mental
(or perhaps I mean cardiac, arthur would know best) bell-chamber, even
if it has sometimes become overdramatisedimented in the process of
transferendition to gaudily illumined pixels, as it will be in the
immediate up-coming, & you'll excuse me I know, but I just wish to say:
<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<Darling.>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

H. (sevensixzero)