brown_city paste! i walked towards the entrance of the subway car. from the corner of my eye i saw ok a man approach wearing a black tank top tucked into worn out black jeans. he was leaning forward in his gait and his eyes were set on my wallet. he got it. i felt no determination to stop him from knocking me down; apparently, my wallet was hovering outside of my left coat pocket swirling in a fascinating ballet. he shielded his eyes, blinded by the blue emanation of dust spurting forth from pores in the leather surface. he grabbed it menacingly and continued his mission on a straight line through me. meanwhile, behind me and near the gate, a blonde-haired man was beating another on the ear with a rolled-up newspaper. the man who just pulled off a great robbery changed his mind, drank half a gallon of water from the fountain, and puffed his face until it looked as though he had cantaloupe-stuffed cheeks and emitted a stream of water that whipped the blonde guy off his adversary and into a trash can, dumping it over, releasing millions of whispers and hundreds of brownish humiliated bananas peels onto the concrete floor, each slithering around blindly then twitching in momentous jerks and despite the odd behavior, spreading until the mass expanded over the shoes and legs of the appalled observers in the station. within minutes, the entire subway layout was covered in an 8-foot layer of banana peels and still spreading. at any rate, above the dynamic and holy happenings in the subway, the hustling city was bursting with short people in brown suits and the whizzing of banana yellow taxis. when the whispers to “urgently eat your clothing or be shot with a non-lethal dart” poured through the air something understandable happened. after five seconds of city-wide disregard, the skies darkened and a storm of needle-like raindrops accelerated down through the air with more quickness and force than if solely powered by gravity. she felt the first one on the top of her ear: the relationship between you and the paradise might be over. the pictures you left on the table have been moved around. the eggs are almost done. the fork you dropped on the floor was thrown into the spongy ceiling as always. you look at the sunflower with curiosity. there is aging, there are lines of brown forming on the bright yellow. the petals droop, the music in the other room has changed. the turntable found the scratch, it finally found the scratch on the record. you pick up the needle and place it down carefully, past the scratch. you nailed it! that was a perfect spot on the record to replace the needle. everyone is very excited for you and not so excited for themselves. 040419 ... Cornerstone . 050728 ... . Sure sounds like Shitsville to me 050729 what's it to you? who go blather from