Hey everybody! So here we are, style number 11… Multiply all this by nine, and I’ll be done. Yeah.
The principle behind today’s style is simple. Just like a car rally where you drive past predetermined checkpoints before reaching the end, in the logo-rally you have to write past a series of predetermined words. (Logo being ancient Greek for word… Hey did anyone read that book No Logo? Ironic title.)
Yesterday my friend came online — let us call him Clyde von Beuseldorf for the sake of brevity — and I was swift to accost him for the higher purposes of blogging. ‘Give me seven random words,’ I said.
‘Damn it,’ I said. Should’ve known.
A young boy dressed in orange gnaws a piece of green marzipan shaped like a whistle, deep in thought. With great alarm, his best friend wraps his arm around him, casting intermittent gazes at the crowd pooling in the distance like a tepid lagoon. A barbarian grandmother blasts by like a water cannon, a secret object — or perhaps objects, plural, for the bulge on her head was large — hidden beneath her shawl. Meanwhile, behind them a serious man looks knowingly the other way.
Made it! Let’s pour expensive champagne on each other! Thanks for reading!