SYNOPSIS (A VINDICATION OF PERCEPTIVE ULTRAVIOLETS)
Given a continuum (x) of the range (y1 -> y7) of the last places you’d ever think to look, where might one find the answers?
Popular theory, at least in recent years, has attempted to ride the (impeccably-tailored, of course) coattails of many 17th century lapsed-thought idealists (inasmuch as the lapsed-though movement matrix could ever tolerate (a fluid state is the least likely resting place of either iconoclast or perpetrator, and certainly cannot withstand the added pressure of both), but still well within the previously-stated structural guidelines of M. S———stein’s (supposedly, and sadly unverafiably) heretical 1654 treatise “On the Heavenly Authority of the Infrared Creator”) and “toss the baby out with the unrehearsed driftwater,” if you’ll pardon the pun. What these so-called purists have failed to take into consideration, however, is twofold:
Firstly being the final resting place of M. S——-stein, being a man of dubious spectrum himself, has yet to be determined to the acceptable +/- 15kHz required by most credit agencies or wavelength registration bureaus (while ironically the corpse itself (less, of course, the several pounds (sterling and otherwise) burned off upon re-entry) did in fact find its final resting place in a very handsome armoire tucked away in a bottom shelf of said W.R. bureau).
Secondly being the unique quality inherent in the sans-spectra, in fact, as determined in the collected works of both Nordine and his later incarnations in the set [n^i + … + n^xxxii], cannot be relegated to merely a footnote in the great bibliographies of the day (or even the day after).
What we propose is a merging of ideals: a double-blind study of any Pleiadean influence still extant in the lives and works of all (y)our noted metempsychotics, both living and dead, somber and exuberant, left- and right-handed. A purging will follow, and what happens to the ultraviolets among us is by that point no longer under our control. Just as the mighty peregrine falcon cannot survive on nebulaic radiation alone, so must these refractory impostors cease their luminescent vampirism and return to the fold.
Imagine, if you will, a cityscape!
Imagine too, two imaginations - dueling endlessly in a low geosynchronous orbit; one a sinistral sans-spectral reflection of the other, a Sirius-B to the Dogon mystics of its un(witting/willing) partner.
I’ve come too close to the playhouse and I’ve come too close to the truth. The spectra must be upheld, and if s [let s=an infinite amount of fathers dying while fixing an infinite amount of toaster ovens] can’t save us now, then who will?
Solve for y.
Ten minutes remain.
- justinpaszul posted this