Saturday, October 3, 2015

Chopchop's writted talk from earlier in the week.

This riecheer says Chopchop:
 
"Amongst the ferns and reeds there were the spinning jovial tops of helicopters, the firecracker gun shots rattling fire and lead, we were as admitted into hell, some kind of carnal bigtop, without the agreement or acknowledgement of having purchased tickets, but nevertheless, we had tickets punched, agreed to participate if only from keeping them from working their thin evil slit eyes over us, as scare and filled with loathing at the sight of them as if they were snakes standing upright, scared of what hell followed them, what surprises and wonders they knew in the godless dark of the jungle where the trees, leaves, and grasses themselves sweated.  There were places where those little yellow bastards swarmed out of holes in the earth, like some angry ants pouring upwards, but could there be a spirit of fun, that so many could fit in a little notch in the earth, maybe their own joke, that the holes were there own eldrich version of the classical clown car, where so many were encapsulated in a tiny space.  A spirit of fun comes afterward; what you have is a shock at the absurdity of the place when you are there-the truth of reality, but the fog of a dreamstate."

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