Chancery Is God
America is not an elephant. For one thing, elephants never forget, whereas Americans don't really know much to begin with. Ninety per cent of them can't pick out their hometown on an unmarked map.
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Do YOU have amazing powers? Powers worthy of Heroes, Marvel Comics and Dr Who? Do this simple test at home…
Go to your TV, watch Gossip Girl. Do you see any fat people?
Now go to your window; look out your window. Do you see any fat people?
Congratulations! You have a unique power. You can see [...]

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beware those quick to praise
for they need praise in return
beware those who are quick to censor
they are afraid of what they do not know
beware those who seek constant crowds for
they are nothing alone
beware the average man the average woman
beware their love, their love is average
seeks average
but there is genius in their hatred
there is enough genius [...]

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Why do the people who own dogs never notice their joy?
Buy Chancery Stone’s book – it’s FUCKING AMAZING! (Advert.)
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He felt aware of Frank Delaney’s intentness beside him. Did the boy do everything like this? Either total indifference or total absorption. Christ, he’d be wearing to live with. He felt sorry for the legendary Nan. It explained how fast he picked things up though. He’d never seen concentration like it. Maybe he was nothing but a mimic. Well, the hell with that. Most dancers these days weren’t even that, God help them. To quote his aunt, they couldn’t emote their way out a paper bag.

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The boy never faltered. He didn’t always get it right, but he got it better. He had the awkward leg movements better. His body angled better but, more importantly, the damn thing looked better on him. Like it had been written for him. Which of course it had, hadn’t it? It had been written for a body just like his. And here it was. The body.

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There was something almost prehensile about his toes. They were long and almost even, very little curve to them at all. They seemed to grip the floorboards as he moved. It looked almost studied. Jonathan stopped what he was doing abruptly and asked, “Can you stand on pointe?

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Occasionally he indulged a little in letting himself imagine Jonathan appreciating them, naked and up on his knees on the bed while he did it. But then it was only one more of a collection of masturbatory fantasies about Jonathan. A little weakness, a sickness, a foolishness, incurable and sometimes, he thought, what added piquancy to it.

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“The last movement in the ballet, he lay down on a scarf and jerked his hips, simulating orgasm. There was a big hue and cry about the depravity of it all. It was toned down for later performances, they say. It’s a lost ballet, he didn’t write it down. They stage it occasionally, but it’s not the original. Well, we think we’ve managed to crack his notation and we’re staging our own,” he smiled, “orgasm intact.”

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Please do NOT write to Ann at her e-mail address: logophilos@gmail.com, which has been provided purely through unfortunate human error, to point out the sickening stunted viciousness that would make a woman whose entire life is penis-porn report someone for a one millimetre penis.

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Twice he found himself with a hard-on. Once when one of the girls walked in a ‘crab’ between a man’s legs, dark crotch out and open to the audience, and again when the same girl slid down another bloke’s body, legs wrapped around. Looked like ruddy sex positions and no mistake. The whole bloody thing did. He was surprised they didn’t ban it.