Manhattan Magic

There is a nascent movement taking shape in my head, and it has to do mostly with self-fulfillment, but ultimately, just like every other attempt at social justice (or, conversely, imperialism), its chief aims are sex and, more specifically, the amazon.

i was on the seventh floor of a gramercy office building today, musing with one specific comrade/relative/uncle about various tidings, including the recent importance of the word "terbidity" (look it up, it's quite fascinating and germane to new york's aquatic climate) and the state of trans-oceanic house swapping. when we left his humble office abode, which was cooled, by the way, with 10,000 of the most compact and effective BTU's this side of tuscany, we entered the elevator for the 7-story descent to to the street.

but then, at the fifth floor, G-D performed a miracle, and sent two Amazonian models into the elevator. Man is nothing more than flesh and blood, avow the Sages, and it is that frailty of reason which compels him to explain away the girls' presence by noting that there is a modeling agency on the fifth floor. i, however, can see past that temporal visage and understand that girls that beautiful only come about via the supernatural. and on my elevator, no less.

The movement I am brewing, then, seeks to hone in on that aspect of behavior, action, and/or thought which makes more likely the possibility of encountering more amazonians. there must be some encoded mechanism by which one can bring about these fantastical creatures, who are three parts stunning and three equal parts inaccessible. however, once my movement takes hold, its own intertia will uncover a similar mechanism which will make them accessible to the common, non-European, sub-six-feet-tall human male.

nascent, indeed, yet auspicious. thank you, ron burgundy.



stay generous, G-D

MC but why male models?