Saturday, December 10, 2011

Paragraph about a being a paragraph

The paragraph you're reading.
We will call this a paragraph and pray to the gods of limitless expansion that there is enough energy to bring this sentence another two lines further down the space I have given myself to type a coherent , albeit self aware sentence that serves no purpose other than to stare back at the reader in an expressionless, unblinking stare--metaphorical expressionless stare, of course--and qualify that stare with an equally suggested shrug of the language defined shoulders, a skinny, surly punk of a paragraph sentence that could care less what your trying to read into it now matter how powerful your readerly intents and desires, a sentence that is cool and impervious to what needs to be confirmed in our world, a sentence that will win because it will not let the air outside it's self referring walls inside; we can almost detect the faint reek of dust mites that have gathered on the shuttered spines of the books that have not been read for twenty years or so which have been squared away in unmarked boxes and grey shelves that are exposed to whatever moisture and elemental tears a store room gathers after the will is read. This paragraph divides into two sentences and a gratuitous image simulating a snap shot you think you saw once in a family basket holding hundreds of other Polaroids is tossed in for confusion's sake--a young girl, age four, standing in the middle of a snowy street bundled up to her small face except for a left boot, which is missing, stuck in and removed by a muddy incline she tried to walk over--and this becomes the point where the paragraph begins a long spiral upward, like ashes up a smoke stack from some merciless incinerator, up the concrete tubing to a sky that is not clear as this paragraph might have been, but is encumbered with clouds and thick flocks of birds crossing the face of the moon.

1 comment:

  1. Zagat Scumwatch9:19 AM PST

    The Bullfrog? Really? if the other reviews make you think this place is remotely acceptable, then they are liars. This place is the nastiest, dirtiest filthole I have ever laid eyes on. The place needs burned to the ground and rebuilt without ioncluding the crowd of of white trash getting wasted downstairs and with... hmm.. I dunno a bathroom in the rooms, maybe?.

    I wouldn't call this a hotel. It is more like a group home for alcoholics. This is no place to stay or take the family. The rooms are small, outdate, and have no private toilets or baths. There is a red neck bar down stairs. The entire place is run down and out dated. Hotel?, what a joke!

    no one in there right state of mind would stay at this dump they call a motel..lol...what a joke.this place is nothing but a run down bars with rooms upstair above it.theres people dealing drugs in the hallways.and the inside is in such depreate need of repair...I felt a shivering rod down my leg and the teeth of my fly were missing…i got a good laugh that was about it.

    No Self-Respecting Person would stay at the Bull-Frog Inn. It's a dump of a bar that sits between a gas station, a traffic light, a McDonald's and a creek. The term "roach-motel" is a compliment to this place. A two-piss minimum and squids get in free. Save yourself the anguish and stay at the Red Roof in just up the road in Falconer.
    *shivers in disgust*

    the bullfrog will definitely challenge you inner princess! imagine yourself in that leonardo dicaprio movie of life in nyc about 100 years ago...that was when the bullfrog was at the top of its game....all the baseline grittyness of humanity is within its walls...and the bullfrog just hasn't changed much from then, except for adding electricity...lol...it's a wonder someone hasn't declared it a historic landmark of some sort. good local bands, cheap drinks and no gangbangers are its main attractiveness. local personal dramas being played out often make for cheap live theatre, but the owner keeps it all down to a dull roar...no one wants to be banned from the bar. the most attractive thing about the rooms upstairs is that they are cheaper than a dwi arrest after you've had one too many...

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