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Saturday, November 15, 2008The Mirror: Queen for a day and a half
Websafe: Hello?
The Mirror: Do you want me to give you a more enthusiastic greeting? W: I prefer your soft, muted approach. M: Unpleasantness is as justifiable as pleasantness. W: Muted is not unpleasant. M: Not everything is explainable. W: Thank goodness, I was afraid you were going to ask me to explain myself. M: Are you saying that my end of the dialogue is paltry, puny, picayune? W: No, I'm saying it is most refreshing. M: In/Out doors. W: The passage of time. M: I didn't say "effective," but since you bring it up, it is that too. W: The passage of time effects a change we may not like. M: The man ignored this. W: But the woman could not. M: You just gave me an idea. W: Botox injections? M: You already said that. W: I implied it. M: No, not in that sense, that would be disparaging. W: I can't really fault women for getting Botox injections, not in this society. M: The mere thought of an iPhone? W: Now an iPhone I'd like. M: The current day shares many elements with 1997. W: How is now like 1997? M: But the woman could not. W: The woman could not answer, after too much Botox froze her face? M: You can't decide whether to go through it or not? W: Oh, I'm never getting Botoxed. M: But the woman could not. W: That's right, I could never go through with it, besides its cost. M: By doubling the number of queens. W: Every woman is a queen for a day and a half. M: Now an iPhone I'd like. W: Are there any "killer apps" on the iPhone? M: Your boat is ready for delivery. W: Nautical apps? M: Because I just won't be sensible. W: Who could be sensible about an electronic boat? M: Now I don't need it. W: Don't be too hasty, the world may require it of you. M: Her hands crossed, planning a not-yet-come actuality. W: People do spend an awful ot of time bracing themselves for the future. M: Maybe that's not wrong after all. W: It's unpleasant to spend one's life in a braced position. M: Or something else. W: There's something worse than a braced position? M: Reflected light chimed, hearable through organs not yet named in the book Samuel squeezed like a lemon. W: And all the juice ran out of the pulp fiction. M: Am I supposed to take that on faith? W: You're supposed to take it as metaphor. M: I think you mean "present," not "presence." W: I think I mean "pressed," as in a mill. M: People say that life is what you make it. W: Have you made any fresh melonade lately? M: Look at me leaving, sadly. W: Bye! M: Closing in 1 second ... Goodbye! Labels: chat robot |
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