Lordotics
A new book by Peter Sotos = a new entry in disturbingbooks, of course. Lordotics was officially released on Tuesday in hardback, limited to one hundred thirteen copies. (Judging by Creation's MO on other Sotos titles, a non-limited paperback should be out in a few months.) Creation say they still have some left to order. I'd suggest acting quickly; if they're going in order, and I was the last person to order one, they have ten left (my copy is #103). Update: I've just got word that the limited edition is now sold out.
She's not talking to anyone. She's letting shit come out of a mouth and sluggishly learning what it meant later. Imagined to the stereotypes who'll buy her edits or the moneylenders who tell her she's doing something else though it doesn't hold too well too long. The audience in front of her work will only degrade what she's doing. Make it cheaper. They understand it wrong.
Yanks her black T-shirt off and, since she's already introduced the problem and can't worry all that much about her straw blonde hair, pulls her military issue bra down to her belly almost as quickly.
I get told all the time I give great head.
Doesn't want to housewife the details. The slime could tell her: What do you care? And she could list the obvious: Children destroyed her body, in particular her sagging breasts that don't look like the youngsters who do this sort of work for more. Alcohol is clearly a factor in her fatty artery clogged pink face. More genetics than recreation in her dulled eyes and the central reason she's sat on a functional couch, hoping that age really is a mollifying fetish that replaces laughter, and deflective scorn. Not worrying about that more than the bills, moment, love.
You're not going to change what you look like anyway.
You're always changing anyway.
You're beautiful. You're beautiful behind what's happened and even more beautiful when you explain what's rough.
Actual savings to raise the sag or pin back the bumps isn't an option, is it?
What do you have to be ashamed of? You think you're the only one? Think of the niggers. The limited jews that want a middling cut. Don't look back up quite as much at you, do they? There's no such thing as a pride that doesn't always work the opposite argument just as well. A movement to your voice, a community to reconcile.
They're suckers. And you'll establish a fan-base who'll pay for everything right on time.
(40-41)
And oh yes, my bitches, feast your eyes on this bad boy. [jumps up and down like a kid at Christmas who just got a Red Ryder BB gun]
She's not talking to anyone. She's letting shit come out of a mouth and sluggishly learning what it meant later. Imagined to the stereotypes who'll buy her edits or the moneylenders who tell her she's doing something else though it doesn't hold too well too long. The audience in front of her work will only degrade what she's doing. Make it cheaper. They understand it wrong.
Yanks her black T-shirt off and, since she's already introduced the problem and can't worry all that much about her straw blonde hair, pulls her military issue bra down to her belly almost as quickly.
I get told all the time I give great head.
Doesn't want to housewife the details. The slime could tell her: What do you care? And she could list the obvious: Children destroyed her body, in particular her sagging breasts that don't look like the youngsters who do this sort of work for more. Alcohol is clearly a factor in her fatty artery clogged pink face. More genetics than recreation in her dulled eyes and the central reason she's sat on a functional couch, hoping that age really is a mollifying fetish that replaces laughter, and deflective scorn. Not worrying about that more than the bills, moment, love.
You're not going to change what you look like anyway.
You're always changing anyway.
You're beautiful. You're beautiful behind what's happened and even more beautiful when you explain what's rough.
Actual savings to raise the sag or pin back the bumps isn't an option, is it?
What do you have to be ashamed of? You think you're the only one? Think of the niggers. The limited jews that want a middling cut. Don't look back up quite as much at you, do they? There's no such thing as a pride that doesn't always work the opposite argument just as well. A movement to your voice, a community to reconcile.
They're suckers. And you'll establish a fan-base who'll pay for everything right on time.
(40-41)
And oh yes, my bitches, feast your eyes on this bad boy. [jumps up and down like a kid at Christmas who just got a Red Ryder BB gun]