. . . and so this is then the story of how I came to be vested with the Bukowski Chair at the WWW University Of "n"th Dimensional Creative Neuroaethiology Physics. I passed my orals with a rather lacklustsere 10 hour recital of my Onaneopus: "Moibundundant Museschatology" (shortform) and was subsequently elected Salubriatictorian of the obligatory Grand Piano Expectorolloquim. But needless to say, I digress.
In any event, when the Angelic Host (Luciferian Rebel inclusive) manifestly decloacaed on 9/9/'09 and the ensuing debacle caused the world's Tao Zone Index to plummet to record lows, my wetware start-up company ThrashArt went cortex up, AND, then, because of that my 1+?=? Marriage Contract with Celeclonal Drew Barrymore #427 was voided in its third month for non-payment of proprietary premiums, I felt lower than a dysmounted holoSIMMM on a fractured fractal nanochip, I tell you true.
Nevertheless, I rented a cheap cubi next to the downtown 'Tokitopium' pissoir and dug in my plasteelheels, rationing my intake-and-expend-itures, flailing frantically 'round the 10 hour metriclock with the waldotrol of my cubi's holokeyboards trying to spew out enough CDopy, as signature pusillanimous persiflage, (for 1,000,000 yen/word@Uscale) to keep me in tofusteaks whilst trying to transmute my melancholomancy into something resembling recondite remuneration. Pain, transcribbled in nonametric duodecameter, ALWAYS pays mohbettah bucks brauae!
It was about that time, if you will recall, that President Spears, just back from a visit to Neowobblyville, capital of the orbital L-5 Republic, gave her now infamous "Religeosity-Inducedtreacle Simplex (Type XIII)" speech [which, I might add, was a freelance collateraberration penned by yours truly and my (now pawned) "WilliamSafirewareA123"] and all heaven broke loose.
Feeling the heat of the NutLuddite Fringe's Basque ninjas on my exculpatory trail, I had my trendy Maoriyogibear-fasciatat redone with a much less conspicious mtlflkchatoyantGuenica-epicreep and started hanging out , when I wasn't flogging my frontal lobes trying to write, at the 'ClubMadHedonism69' Bayonnennex under a psuedonominative personality from "gNoms-De Plume-R-Oui"
My life just continued to get stranger and stranger though. I ran into my 43rd wife there, sporting new mams (she, not me) and had a breakdown of sorts . . .
