Word up WND

The word-a-day emails I subscribe to just aren’t sticking in my brain. I’m told I have to use them to remember them, but how often do I come across a dude with a frigate who'll let me ask about his dunnage? Almost never. So I'm writing a novel. I call it "Chicks Dig Boustrophedon."  Here's an excerpt:

Chapter 2: "Desiccated, arid and sere: now that's dry"

"Are you oppugning that I am too much of a philatelist to appreciate your numismatic proclivities?" Thelonious asked Tiffany as they ambulated past the Zebra cage which smelled really terrible.
"You hurl aspersions at my avocation widdershins in a tourbillion of nonsense, a sempiternal effort to seem perspicacious. Plus, you rob banks." Tiffany opined like a motherfucker.
"Widdershins? WIDDERSHINS?!" Thelonious didn't like that at all. "I am no yegg and should be enskied as a god!" Thelonious had never been enskied at all, if you can believe it.
"Hear my maw burst with diapasons of frustration as my eyes scan your visage in a series of saccades that I hope will break me of my cathexis and resolve once and for all my chronic abulia about confronting you about the excess dunnage of your friggin' frigate!"
The zebra stood quietly. He had pretty stripes.

Pretty sweet. Or should I say pretty... sweet. (I don't have a fancy synonym for that one yet.)

Join us this Wednesday after 8:30 to agglutinate yourself to a beer bottle, fellow autodidacts, at:

Birds

5925 Franklin Ave
Los Angeles, CA 90028

Cross Street: Tamarind

Insouciant when it comes to souciance,
Jeremy