that. what should
come
to vote on for a
story a clock
for the winning
Eurovision contest, is,
about whether or leave for... me,
but for
my favourite simple Test
For the offending journalentry to
miss it
and ate them to have
given me where
I do, wrong, way, for
permission, to time .bake a lot of comics
landscape of people have a DVD, we get
you get my head while they do,
very excited. to sign something,
of
context, including Dreamhaven have
it going the rat song.
Kelly Sue's journal has a link to a poetry generator that takes URLs and makes poetry out of the web pages. And I thought, what does it turn this journal into? Somehow the above seems to catch the spirit of the last few weeks rather well. You may want to try it on your own favourite website.
A sudden lunatic whim made me wonder what it would do to a Harry Stephen Keeler book, and seeing that Ramble House has the first chapters of many Harry Stephen Keeler books online, I shot over there and told it to get to work on The Case of the Lavender Gripsack (the final book in the Skull series that begins with The Man with the Magic Eardrums). (If you've never heard of him, Keeler was either the worst great writer in American Literary History, or the greatest lousy writer, and I've been fond of him since reading a copy of The Case of the 16 Beans at the age of 11 and realising that no human being except the author could ever have cracked the book's central mystery, and somehow not minding.) The poem somehow manages to give you the flavour of Keeler, punctuation and all, although it's slightly more tightly plotted.
BUY THIS BOOK BUY THIS
BOOK Return to offer!�and far too
large, and , had must face
tonight. Indeed, a private home.
And�proclaimed that,
she
should ever defend moreover, in�his nose was
a man who was at least
not then know
it�and bailiff
combined. And at the latter�s rear,
could only gasp. And
proclaimed that, ancient containing�
her up
the vicious chain which doubtlessly was just
being performed by
a legal
right to the first
surprise�of all things in
the man at the step from
the invisible
wake left by a
forelock hanging down his hand showed that
she wondered unhappily,
some exceedingly important
courtroom luggage: her worn paperoid portfolio containing
her small
freckled hands clutched her in
the October Chicago
air tonight! For his nose
was just turning up into a heavy
gnarled cane, so
thick that man who opened the
high white steps a
client in re grand
larceny and murder in the
first degree!