the_big_o raze the band was playing "that's how strong my love is" and the taste of flat beer and spit was on his lips. above his head was the fourth vowel of the modern alphabet. perfect and white and wide enough to accommodate everyone he cared for. what a fine thing, he thought, to dance beneath a ligament of language with a hole in its heart, so if it should fall mid-sway, the partygoers could step straight into its center knowing they were safe from whatever harm its arms might do. he watched it wobble and weave. his date shoved her voice into his nearest ear. "are you having fun?" she shouted. "oh," he said. 241103 what's it to you? who go blather from