the tip is always so fucking coy about it. "lucas heights resource recovery park" bitch you are the tip. shut up

insane hard rubbish pull

coles truck in the woolworths parking lot... ill fortune comin

thank you!!!!

Infinite Gossip Stories and poems by Max Lavergne. Otzi Awake, Let Me Tell You About My Saab, There Should Be A Guy, Wolfman Moves To Town, prawn_meat, reallyreallyreallytrying, Spiders Georg

please read my posts infinitegossip.ghost.io i get a lot of good feedback on my posts.99% of my feed back is positive

ChocolateAppreciator: wonka lowkey fell off.. slugworth the new goat.
WonkaFan1488: did a fucking oompa loompa write this

you could start a song any freaking way in 1971

Every time I read a max lavergne short story I let out a hell yeah so long and forceful the llm that listens to everything my phone hears starts adding an extra l and two a’s to hell yeah

"the majority" just say you didnt like my book dude. just DM me a photo of you shooting it with a gun. i can take it.

thank you king!

my buddy clavicular was telling me about an interesting trick he learned with hammers

i have a false tooth filled with a placebo in case i'm ever captured and need to be a control subject

thanks john!!

i have watched and reviewed "project hail mary" (2026) boxd.it/dYR2an

(eating a pill i found on the floor of the club bathroom) hope it's a placebo. i don't need any effects right now

THE END OF THE PARTY by Max Lavergne. The party was so good that, by the end, no one was able to leave. Beginning in a blaze of virgin enthusiasm around eight o'clock, gathering speed and excitement at nine, becoming focused and wilful as the clock struck ten; then the crunching router of substances whizzing minds into elegant shapes through eleven, twelve and one; the gilding of each look, each gesture, each implicit sexual invitation at two and three; the sublime regret of four; the anticipation as five ticked over; the day and, it was unanimously felt, all of us, reborn as six gave way to seven and eight. At 9am, as a trembling gratitude for the privilege of the life that we had been given to live and to enjoy passed over us the first nervous partygoer struggled to his feet - it was Alex H - and tried to make his apologies. No more than a sentence in was he when he burst into tears, rested a sweating hand on the coffee table and sank once more to the couch. Hours passed. Initially immobile, we tried to remember the form and rhythm that a normal day followed, to destroy by willpower the new template set by the party, and were unable to. We raged around the patio and the garage. Helplessly, we tried on clean t-shirts and attempted to find the ingredients for toast. We stood in tremulous awe of the bathroom's toothbrush cup. We ordered McDonalds on Uber Eats and sat in an anxious circle eating burgers and trying to remember if it was normal. Surely - surely - burgers must be normal. Then, as the shadows lengthened in the yard we drifted once more to the stereo, and turned the music up, and then we opened some wine, and it was as though a goddess of inspiration had reached an elegant hand into the clearing and created a door for us to step through. The full text is available at https://infinitegossip.ghost.io/the-end-of-the-party/

new story up on INFINITE GOSSIP. it's called THE END OF THE PARTY. the full text is here but please subscribe for more & so i feel good infinitegossip.ghost.io/the-end-of-t...

big morning at the tape shop. deals everywhere

my buddy's grandma was too nasty. he had to george's marvellous medicine her

(at the router conference pulling my cloak to the side to reveal the belkin insignia on my tunic) i represent belkin. let me pass.

(threatening an old woman) it would be a shame if your grandson george's marvellous medicined you...

piloting a ship through a strait no problem. (forgetting about hormuz) any strait same price. very easy.

I don't know what it is about this, but I just love it. It's far away and familiar at the same time.

THE END OF THE PARTY by Max Lavergne. The party was so good that, by the end, no one was able to leave. Beginning in a blaze of virgin enthusiasm around eight o'clock, gathering speed and excitement at nine, becoming focused and wilful as the clock struck ten; then the crunching router of substances whizzing minds into elegant shapes through eleven, twelve and one; the gilding of each look, each gesture, each implicit sexual invitation at two and three; the sublime regret of four; the anticipation as five ticked over; the day and, it was unanimously felt, all of us, reborn as six gave way to seven and eight. At 9am, as a trembling gratitude for the privilege of the life that we had been given to live and to enjoy passed over us the first nervous partygoer struggled to his feet - it was Alex H - and tried to make his apologies. No more than a sentence in was he when he burst into tears, rested a sweating hand on the coffee table and sank once more to the couch. Hours passed. Initially immobile, we tried to remember the form and rhythm that a normal day followed, to destroy by willpower the new template set by the party, and were unable to. We raged around the patio and the garage. Helplessly, we tried on clean t-shirts and attempted to find the ingredients for toast. We stood in tremulous awe of the bathroom's toothbrush cup. We ordered McDonalds on Uber Eats and sat in an anxious circle eating burgers and trying to remember if it was normal. Surely - surely - burgers must be normal. Then, as the shadows lengthened in the yard we drifted once more to the stereo, and turned the music up, and then we opened some wine, and it was as though a goddess of inspiration had reached an elegant hand into the clearing and created a door for us to step through. The full text is available at https://infinitegossip.ghost.io/the-end-of-the-party/

new story up on INFINITE GOSSIP. it's called THE END OF THE PARTY. the full text is here but please subscribe for more & so i feel good infinitegossip.ghost.io/the-end-of-t...

this sounds right!

uh oh

i guess i'm just wondering what else michael graziolo had on that he needed to get this done in 15 minutes

since GW called his books cool shit like "the fifth head of cerberus" i can't imagine he'd love the low hanging fruit of "the wolfe at the door". but that's what happens when you die i guess

currently reading and enjoying a posthumously released short story collection from my goat gene wolfe. but i'm intrigued by the cover, which features art by shutterstock on a dull beige background

bought a bag of oats and there were instructions on the side for making porridge. no shit oats