Frequently the only things in life worth hanging on to are those moments with good friends, good food/drink, and good talk, those moments that burn warmly in the bottom of your soul and make you cozy in your own skin. Language, for all its richness, is a poor medium to capture that feeling, those times made simultaneously of contentment and potential, but goddammit, it's all we have so we have to try our damnedest. Layer your words like flavors, slosh them around in your mouth like a good wine. Make them count; enjoy them. No plot, no thread of thought is going to capture on its own the tingling under your fingernails, the chemistry of interaction boiling over that is true life.
Let your tongue run free, revel in the pleasure. And no, it doesn't have to make sense:
A typhoon of octopus. A glacier of days. Aerodynamic aeolian aesthetic. Drowning challenge. A paragraph of stairways. Glockenspiel (in any context). Simpering sundials, a ton of crocodiles. Sticky checkbooks. Aphids for sale, in-laws for rent. Lapping at sounds like you're drowning in deafness. Fuzzy navy beans.
Jarring carousels, haranguing hula-hoops, a melange of melons. Overtones of overcoats, slithering staircases, offended petticoats. The unceasing demand for doldrums.
Live it!
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