Thursday, September 10, 2015

text || Matt Margo

Excerpt from an untitled text, June 2010—Nov. 2011
First published in Two Titles (white sky books, 2011)

observations expand on the crucial regulations of out-and-out impolite decisions, establish the strength of expected triggers. pardon the weak spot, no one else there had been intelligent on the way to the radio show. thus far, having flung the status of favors’ phase, breathing space, concerning crude religious studies, the carcass of our isolation should be involved in spying on abbreviated possible events, hitherto the supreme canister not able to sleep or catch the story of otherwise engaged findings. it appears that the skeleton abandoned the anonymity of the wicked person and his item for consumption, the identification mark. on the wrong side of the law, with a shotgun shell automatically. it became visible between a rock and a hard place and a few people with down conceptions. the anticlimaxes shoulder the burden and accede, yelping ( as the booklover should think watchfully to no avail, that is to say ), to the monopoly of the objects of ridicule through a name, a space invader to the casual observer of sophisticated workmanship and instance. owing to outbreaks of no great concern, otherwise, in my book, canny, as a group, furiously androgynous, as, like peas in a pod, the world turns over with decency. a short time ago in the nick of time, it follows that, so far infinite in the soup empowering, the social order, irreparably off-color, exclusive of the night, yet to be paid of its own accord, may possibly, as butt of all the jokes that you can imagine, accept this contrary belief. seeing as education of no use is authentic and methodical, it cannot be budged of good standing, and the archenemy of necessity is the kerosene lamp at that moment, requirement. through an assortment of stipulation, it whacks at the front of pragmatism. as a consequence of the link sandwiched between the immeasurable retreat in the region of experimental surroundings and outbreaks, our joysticks confirm the force of the same kind, and in so doing settle on the jeopardy of the paradoxes. as a result of our neckline of circumstances, the locker remains U-shaped, in the company of times gone by disk-shaped Judgment Days, and dwells of no value in its place as to the continuation of our dreams in most cases. the unworried should barely be unhappy as a joke meant for our sense of right and wrong, using reasoned unison. we can construe that much with the purpose of, above all, rational banks and their possessions in the line of fire.


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