Knock-knock . . . Neurotransmitter who?. . . .BAM!

The words appear here because they exist. That's because they waved through the GABA inducing light bolt even though some are baffling. Today's choice is Am I dear diary or ruby throated interlocutory gibberish? Do I obsess on lessons from life i.e forestall the decline, you don't have to earn your age? Words are chosen to glitter the point being made. They may just give life by the pizzazz of the barista-like blend of the mots. WWII baby bromides written as enlightenment are scattered throughout lvlovers mostly for the exercise of fucking around with words. Yet, all the 999, progress on the chip-in front or frappe the grappa stuff brands this as homepage/blog/diary wannabeness and true that. The unsettled supposition is whether the words drive the philosophy or do they exist here because they satisfy i.e. the sound of one labium queefing.

August finds us jiggy about this seminal ambiance, not missing the mules or 25 and delirious about the daily dunk. Curves.