I know this is you writing the way you've seen the others write. Using all
the pat phrases and constructions you've seen the others use. You are
the inheritor of a lively schema of techniques. You will stay the course
in a world you never invented.

Using all the phrases and constructions handed down to you by the
previous writers. It's like a tattooed woman, making her skin all busy,
overadorning her outer layer. Can't judge a book by its covered, or a
hip girl by the tattoos on her skin, now canya?

It's like homeless in a field. It's like a skeleton phone. It's like the tickle
technique. Has no one explained to you the tickle technique? When
you tickle the skeletons their ribs interlock. Your fingers interlock with
their ribs. And then the two of you are one. You will fossilize that way.
Remember what my grandpa used to say: You cannot motorboat with
a lady skeleton!

The filamentous underpinnings
The filamental underpinings
The filmental undertwinings of the elemental pilings of reality

Heather in her leather jacket
Heather in a leather jacket
With her hands in her pockets and her tights on her legs
Heather in a fur-lined coat
With her hands in her pockets and her tartan all a-flutter
Her heart'n her tartan
aflutter in the wind
Heartquake, baby!
Heartquake Heather shivers in her leather jacket

filamentous birthday cake

Cops frisking a coping heart. heart-shaped birthday cake. Abortion
in a fur-lined coat. Fetus in a fur-lined coat. That's lanugo, kid. All
the most stylish, etc. Lanugo-fur coats. Hey, the fetuses don't need
the lanugo, and it doesn't hurt them to remove it.

When they start vat-growing babies, you'd better believe that they will
conceive a market for every by-product those babides produce. That's
right, they're called "babides", the by-products of the babies. There'll be
a strong babide market, for every little chemical secretion, and byproduct
of human growth that can be siphoned off. It's not enough that they
make hundreds of thousands custom-designing your kid for you, but that
his byproducts are their property...that's a little annoying at first, but you
reconcile to it.

Cops frisking a parking heart. the parked hearts frisking each other. They
must both be cops! They are endlessly searching each other for concealed
weapons. Look, she's found one! And he, he's still frantically searching,
deeper and deeper. Parked heart in his lanugo coat.