Utopian Turtletop. Monsieur Croche's BĂȘte Noire. Contact: turtletop [at] hotmail [dot] com

Saturday, October 27, 2007


While falling asleep at the keyboard one evening I typed that word.


It's not a word. This collection of syllables. I don't know what I was getting at. Lingering over the feeling of wracking one's brain to remember something? I don't remember!

I should use it. As a closing salutation for correspondence. It would be cryptic, except it's so obviously faux and goofy.

You see what I'm saying? Please let me know if you have any questions, and as I hope this missive finds you well, I remain,

as ever,

rackulingarly yours,


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