A porthole is a boat, a boat a ship of life. Tossed upon the seas of life am I, watching from my porthole boat. A boat, a boat. A boataboat. Putt putt putt putt putt.
Beppppp. Bep bep bep. Here is my paper note pad and here is my pen, in my mouth along with the note pad. Hello I’m here for the interview. A real professional, live on the scene.
Woot! Have you heard someone say this? Woot! (they say). Lordy, lordy.
O cummm, all ye faithfulllll. Cummm cummm cummm, it's Christmas.
If I had a cowboy hat, what would be inside? Nothing but a furry dome—and a mouse that likes to ride!
I would like to tell you a story, about a friend. A story? An elegy, perhaps. A friend? A soul. As fly as mine own when I'm getting all that static electricity nonstop.
Fly! Heart roaming thru the heaven's subtle firmament. Soar! Onrushing fervor in my verisimilitude.
The bump on my tongue is not just the end, of my tongue. It is the beginning— dash dash dash! Of a story.- - - -
I would not say that the cereal in the box was given to me. What I would say is that, through a series of events, I came to have access to the cereal in the box.
When I look into a fire... I feel hypnotize.
I like a dead bird. I like a live bird. Any kind of bird is allowed to hang out with me.
Tony. Tony? Tony! Tony. Tony! Tony.
The sissko kid, was a friend of minnnnne. Hey! Sisssssko kid, was a friend of mine. Hey! Who is that kid? If you don't know, he's my friend. Sing that tune!
Urrrrrggggh. Sometimes if you eat a bug your stomach says: no thank you, I don't want that.
I think that I shall never see/ A poem, lovely as a tree
Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Oh. Over here. Over here. Over here. Right here. Hi.
Do you think that you are the only one who can tell a story? That is just not true. I have a story to tell.
Shoop. Ssshhhhoo boop. Shoo boop, de boop shoo boop. Hello. Didn't see you there. Do you want to sit on a pillow? I am singing my jam.
Capital in the Twenty-First Century, by Thomas Piketty. Belknap Press, 685 pp. Tastes like dry paper.