[lit-ideas] Re: Sunday Wotsit

For the life of me, I can't see why carpenter ants aren't trained to eat tree stumps, and slugs to mow lawn grasses. Could we not put out some natural ketchup-equivalent to encourage these beasts in our green age to take a first million anty imperial steps on our behalf, or, regarding the gastropods, one hygroscopic smear for man; one bloomin' great sigh of relief for mankind? 

Now there's a vision for Father's Day.
A world in which fish shat gold would be hard to fathom or live in. And what all the resulting divers and diggers might do to the ocean bottom could be quite iffy.
When they fall into your bowl, midges may add flavor to porridge, but in spite of heritage it's my view that they don't ruin the dish, simply because porridge tastes so bloody horrid in the first place. 

God I hate milk.
When you strand yourself on a garden bench to observe and think and drift, you mimic the aspect of death, registering nor pain nor joy nor pretty much nuffink in glazed eyes, while internally your camera obscura plays fun and absurdities live, as they occur.
I read this week that timber-framed buildings in Stoneleigh (Warwickshire) have "brick nogging/infil," so I shall call these words "Noggin infill." 

Or "Bob," for short.
That's a reference to "The Compleat Works of Wllm Shkspr (abridged)," in which Julia just appeared. 

David Ritchie,
Portland, Oregon
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