Tuesday, November 10, 2009

NaNoWriMo, 3879-4493

As fun as that is, to be entered into a contest, looking for work in the morning. Brightly a wide fuse organized, cried out for. Been long, sidetracked, open door policy. Who brought the doughnuts in. Said to wait, included elsewhere. Sometimes when I. And brought into the open. Light streams in to there. For a while we sat and waited with hats on. Also the fridge hummed. The Thing that Harmed Pittsburgh. Growing up, yes it. From behind you can a price lift shake short. Skipped a lot. Fed to the when I. See the valley rule before you, saw the honey match straps like. A runner gets to glide, pieces of mercury dive to, bread winks a snap. Seven darts. A ham ham. Plagues a wide very top sea. Credibility sinks as, wrestled twice, purity. Stocks like load farm fish. In another day, people'd see, lust for lox. As I cramped into the role of camp manager, I still had to pay dues. They were a lot this year to cover, and went inside, cup holding. Went away, relieved to be starting. The cold wind stopped hammering. The ice hat ceased looking like salad. In the winter came the bees, the hordes of booze and white crosses. Little fiery spores spoke, sped along into the night's ditch. The other candle floated and befriended a watch. Spoke to a lantern said tonight's the broken story. Five or six times I crept. Quilting is popular. Largely undetected pines. In the snow was a wide open snore, believe to belong, and then it was that. To which that is. Spread among fine lines, along foreplay lines. Predatory needs to witness. The bridge gave in. Settling up and over the high road the town. Soon to be too late in round parts, save for the bodily roost. It was kept in the attic, behind political pros. They are as one, to another, began again. Here is stopping, tread to. Writing all seems with to become left. There's happiness groaning, a little spot. Trees hug the coast, fog bugs the frost. The rains side with. Our bay is the perfect man. In a minute, in a minute. Yelling like yeah like. In case there are outsiders, be relieved that there are not. Too many inside, bring the kettle. Believe in cudgels. Probably to eat pie is the goal. There are too many wise cracks. There are not enough lank stewards. Bring 'em on. Tomorrow cake exists in many forms throughout the bodega. Pleasure seekers take on. Right now I'm attacking a shrew. It's love. In this we are agreed. Putting things on leaves, sprigs attire. But I did always love eating it raw and dry as a kid. Was something missing there. Yeah. Three oats. Beside the brook a hook was stuck in a rock. A hanged man from the north. Better than. Two people couldn't devise one, anyway, this is, a no, yet not. Today I was slapped like fortnight cookie dough. It was a broad stroke, hapless sweater pride. In time, and no, find, keeping away for why to be almost. I've heavies, steady. Listening to warm dry goods sleeps again. Printing the whitest stock, saving the whale sock. Look forward to crackers craved, the speed of an onion ad hoc. Lenses were had, likelier than not. Pretty evenly spread, I can't too much, then it was another oven sample. I pants that, to? Dude said knot was hot like fourteen other million agreeing on the same thing, I am neither. Puddles formed around us weather nothing better leads to ruin. The kind where you know, but it's pointless, and over now. Screwed me bigtime.

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