Sunday, January 06, 2008

Mellifluous confluence

Means nothing; sounds good. "When spiders pretend to be leaves, so they can catch flies. When the letter at the beginning is the first of the word that split the sky and spilt the milk.

"When things conspire, when help is at hand." says Fusel.

Which is no help. He's being gnomic (not gnomonic, he's not a shadow in the sun marking time, that's what my electric clock above the mantelpiece does).

He's just being obscure for the sake of it, fucker.

Maybe that's what ghosts do. Or oracles.

I tell him to drink his tea.

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