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Alien Abduction Theory

Hi my name is Carlynn and you have come to my webpage. I hope you realize that you are here. Because if you don't, then that's kind of a problem. Although, I mean, nothing that can't be solved by a psychiatrist with a prescription pad.

I am in love with this.

I read bad poetry into your machine. I save your messages just to hear your voice. you always listen carefully to awkward rhymes. you always say your name, like I wouldn't know it's you, at your most beautiful. —Peter Buck, Mike Mills, Michael Stipe

Right. So this is, like, an introductory page. I say like because according to a famous linguist whose name I do not remember, I am making reference to the inadequacy of language. A periphrastic study in a worn-out poetical fashion. You go, girl. Yes, you. The one in the grey sweater.

[There was a rather awkward pause, as Alice didn't know how to begin a conversation with people she had just been dancing with. "It would never do to say 'How d'ye do?' now," she said to herself: "we seem to have got beyond that, somehow!"]

I hope you're not tired.
I am very tired.
I really am soft yes tender and sweet.

So here's the deal. I have two hours until dinner. At the Princeton Campüs Club. Yes. I am in an eating club. And let me tell you, I will never take shit for that ever again as long as I live, because I went to visit my friend Lilly who goes to Yale and who has just joined something called the Elizabethan Club. And like, hi, this club owns a copy of the First Folio. Like, don't even start with me. Don't even bother taking the first step down that road because it's a waste of your energy.

But four young Oysters hurried up,
All eager for the treat:
Their coats were brushed, their faces washed,
Their shoes were clean and neat --
And this was odd, because, you know,
They hadn't any feet.

No feet. No feet at all. I will meet you later in somebody's office.

The ocean machine is set to 9.