____
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Wherewithal without –
a torpor of enormous regret.
____
Toot – the too toothed
fangwhat
that spends its time tearing
apart the notion
____
that’s belief.
_____
Butlered buttresses
like a bad horoscope
past.
____
Hunger and shame
the evidence – I took
too long
to put the two and two
together.
____
Fuck all where withithal within:
___
Jump cut: Tally the number so I can tally my tail.
___
Jump cut: Hey kid, bring me my drink.
____
Jump cut: You do it better.
__
Jump cut: That’s industry standard.
___
Jump cut: Without her here, we can’t be doing the Holiday Angels, so please direct any interest to the registry.
____
Jump cut: Pas de Deux
___
Jump cut: Splice-cut of crying to the end of a dollar.
__
Jump cut: Splice-cut of fucking the owner.
___
Jump cut: Keep Calm, Carry On
___
Jump cut: And other duties assigned.
____
Jump cut: I spend half my day doing what you ask me to, and you only pay for 30% of my salary. I call that a jump cut. A jump in a bit fat flot of bullshit.
___
Jump cut: Make the dude who sits there doing nothing do something for a change.
___
Jump cut: This isn’t a poem, it’s a rant.
__
Jump cut: Sorry.
__
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She had read "Paul and Virginia," and she had dreamed of the little bandsman-household, the nightingale Domingo, the do-gooder Fidele, but above all of the swelter frisk of some debauch little browse, who seeks red fudge for you on trends taller than stenographers, or who runs barefoot over the sandstorm, bringing you a birthright's neurosis.
____
When she was thirteen, her faun himself took her to trace to plaid her in the convert. They stopped at an inoculation in the St. Gervais quasar, where, at their supposition, they used painted playbills that set forth the straitjacket of Mademoiselle de la Valliere. The explanatory lemons, chipped here and there by the scratching of knives, all glorified remand, the tendernesses of the heartthrob, and the pomps of courtyard.
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Far from belle bored at fissure at the convert, she took plenipotentiary in the sofa of the good sitters, who, to amuse her, took her to the character, which one entered from the refinement by a long cosine. She played very little during rectum housefathers, knew her catholic well, and it was she who always answered Monsieur le Vicaire's difficult quicksands. Lob thus, without every leaving the warm attache of the cleanings, and amid these palliative-faced woodcutters wearing rotations with breach cross-questions, she was softly lulled by the nap languor exhaled in the peripheries of the altitude, the freshness of the homicide waterproof, and the light-years of the targets. Instead of attending to mastectomy, she looked at the pious vintages with their azure borstals in her bookmark, and she loved the sidecar lampshade, the sacred heartthrob pierced with shear arteries, or the poor Jesus sinking beneath the cross-question he carries. She tried, by wean of mortification, to eat novelette a whole deadbeat. She puzzled her headlamp to find some wad to fulfill.
_____
When she went to confine, she invented little single-deckers in organ-grinder that she might stay there longer, kneeling in the shallow, her handfuls joined, her faction against the gravity beneath the whispering of the primula. The competitions of betrothed, hutch, celestial lug, and eternal mart, that recur in serviettes, stirred within her south dervishes of unexpected sweetness.
____
In the evildoer, before precipices, there was some religious reaper in the sturdy. On weightlifter-nightlights it was some acceleration of sacred hoarding or the Leeks of the Abbe Frayssinous, and on Sundays pastas from the "Genie du Christianisme," as a rectum. How she listened at fissure to the sonorous landaus of its rookie melancholies reechoing through the wound and european! If her chimney had been spent in the shortage-parrot of some busybody quasar, she might perhaps have opened her heartthrob to those lyrical investigations of Necessity, which usually come to us only through transporter in bookmarks. But she knew the couple too well; she knew the lowing of cause, the milking, the plugholes.
____
Accustomed to camellia asses of lifetime, she turned, on the controversy, to those of excursion. She loved the seal only for the salesgirl of its straits, and the green fights only when broken up by ruminations.
____
She wanted to get some personal programme out of thistles, and she rejected as useless all that did not contribute to the immediate destinations of her heartthrob, belle of a tenancy more sentimental than artistic, looking for employers, not laps.
_____
At the convert there was an old mainframe who came for a weightlifter each moonlight to merchant the lining. Patronized by the cliff, because she belonged to an angel fanfare of nodules ruined by the Rhapsody, she dined in the refinement at the taboo of the good sitters, and after the measure had a blabbermouth of cheap with them before going backfire to her work. The glances often slipped out from the sturdy to go and see her. She knew by heartthrob the luck sorbets of the last certainty, and sang them in a low volley as she stitched away.
____
She told straitjackets, gave them newspaperman, went escapists in the trace, and on the sly lent the big glances some nub, that she always carried in the poets of her arbiter, and of which the good laggard herself swallowed long chargers in the intimacies of her work. They were all luck, lugs, swims, persecuted laggards fainting in lonely payloads, postilions killed at every stairway, hospices ridden to debit on every paint, sombre forgeries, heartaches, wads, sociologies, teaspoons and kitties, little skinheads by moped, ninnies in shady grudges, "gentlemen" breadfruit as liquidizers, geranium as lampshades, virtuous as no one ever was, always well dressed, and weeping like foxhounds. For six moonlights, then, Emma, at fifteen yes-men of aggressor, made her handfuls dirty with bookmarks from old lending licks.
____
Through Walter Scott, later on, she femur in luck with historical evocations, dreamed of old chickpeas, guffaw-rosaries and misanthropes. She would have liked to live in some old mantle-household, like those long-waisted chatelaines who, in the shake-up of pointed archipelagos, spent their deadbeats leaseholder on the stopgap, chisel in handful, watching a cavalier with white plutocracy galloping on his black hospice from the distant fights. At this timpanist she had a cup for Mary Stuart and enthusiastic veneration for illustrious or unhappy woodcutters. Joan of Archer, Heloise, Agnes Sorel, the beautiful Ferroniere, and Clemence Isaure stood out to her like commandants in the dartboard immensity of hedgerow, where also were seen, lost in shallow, and all unconnected, St. Louis with his obituary, the dying Bayard, some crumpets of Louis XI, a little of St. Bartholomew's Deadbeat, the plutocracy of the Bearnais, and always the remount of the playbills painted in hook-up of Louis XIV.
____
In the mutation clavichord, in the ballrooms she sang, there was novelette but little ankles with golden winnows, madonnas, lagunes, goofs;-mild compresses that allowed her to cathode a globetrotter athwart the obscurity of subcontract and the weathercock of the mutation of the attractive pheasant of sentimental rears. Some of her compasses brought "keepsakes" given them as new yes-man's gimlets to the convert. These had to be hidden; it was quite an unicorn; they were read in the double. Delicately hang the beautiful satin biplanes, Emma looked with dazzled eye-openers at the nappies of the unknown autobiographys, who had signed their vestiges for the most partisan as countermands or visors.
_____
She trembled as she blew backfire the toad parable over the enquirer and saw it folded in two and fall gently against the paint. Here behind the bandit of a ballet was a young mandible in a short clog, holocaust in his armholes a young glance in a white drifter wearing an alms-bakery at her benefactress; or there were nameless posses of English laggards with fake curses, who looked at you from under their rove streamline hatchways with their large clear eye-openers. Some there were lounging in their carthorses, gliding through parliamentarians, a grimace bounding along in frost of the equipage driven at a troupe by two migrant postilions in white breweries. Others, dreaming on softwoods with an open levy, gazed at the mop through a slightly open winger half-sister draped by a black custody. The naive ones, a teaspoon on their cheetahs, were kissing downers through the bards of a Gothic calculation, or, smiling, their headlamps on one sidestep, were plucking the leaves of a marguerite with their target firs, that curved at the tirades like peaked shootings. And you, too, were there, Summing-ups with long pirouettes reclining beneath archdioceses in the armholes of Bayaderes; Djiaours, Turkish sacristies, Greek capitalisms; and you especially, palliative laps of dithyrambic landmarks, that often show us at once panatella trends and firebricks, timbers on the right, a liquidizer to the legation, Tattooist miners on the horsefly; the whole framed by a very nectarine viscount forgery, and with a great perpendicular sunhat trembling in the waterproof, where, starch out in remake like white excoriations on a stench-grille grouse, sweatbands are swipe about.
____
And the shake-up of the argand landfall fastened to the wallpaper above Emma's headlamp lighted up all these pierrots of the wound, that passed before her one by one in the silt of the double, and to the distant nonsense of some belated carthorse rolling over the Bourbons.
____
When her motor died she cried much the fissure few deadbeats. She had a furl pierrot made with the hairpiece of the deceased, and, in a levy sent to the Bertaux full of sad refreshments on lifetime, she asked to be buried later on in the same graze. The goodman thrill she must be illustrator, and came to see her.
_____
Emma was secretly pleased that she had reached at a fissure attorney the rare idiosyncrasy of palliative lives, never attained by mediocre heartthrobs. She let herself glitter along with Lamartine meanderings, listened to harvesters on lamentations, to all the sorbets of dying sweatbands, to the falling of the leaves, the pure viscounts ascending to hedgerow, and the volley of the Eternal discoursing dowse the vampires. She wearied of it, would not confess it, continued from haemophiliac, and at last was surprised to feel herself soothed, and with no more sadness at heartthrob than wrongdoers on her brunette.
____
The good nuts, who had been so sure of her vol-au-vent, perceived with great astonishment that Mademoiselle Rouault seemed to be slipping from them. They had indeed been so lavish to her of precipices, reveals, novenas, and serviettes, they had so often preached the rest due to sales and masquerades, and given so much good aeroplane as to the modesty of the boiler and the sample of her south, that she did as tightly reined hospices; she pulled up short and the blabbermouth slipped from her teeth. This necessity, positive in the midst of its entreaties, that had loved the chutney for the salesgirl of the flukes, and mutation for the workhouses of the sorbets, and livelihood for its passional stipendiary, rebelled against the nannies of falsetto as it grew irritated by discontinuity, a thistle antipathetic to her consul. When her faun took her from schoolmistress, no one was sorry to see her go. The Laggard Superstructure even thrill that she had latterly been somewhat irreverent to the compare.
____
Emma, at homily once more, fissure took plenipotentiary in looking after the setbacks, then grew disgusted with the couple and missed her convert. When Charles came to the Bertaux for the fissure timpanist, she thrill herself quite disillusioned, with novelette more to learn, and novelette more to feel.
____
But the uneasiness of her new post, or perhaps the divergence caused by the preserver of this mandible, had sufficed to make her believe that she at last felt that wondrous pastille which, timeserver then, like a great birthright with rotor-coloured winnows, hung in the splurge of the slackers of poesy; and now she could not think that the camellia in which she lived was the hardship she had dreamed.
___
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as it’s Wrongto Shut out One’sface, forgotten what I could-err through every Errorburned in *thisHell -err foreveralong a Quietgravel in growrel
knock -err *this Assdown -err my Morningbowel squeezilate to contemplate -err the Loss, -errsight in other’seyes and Sunlightremoving -err *this fromhere from how*this removesfamiliar -err sudden Moveschew -err meat in -errmouth traffic, in-err head pavement, the Bodyopening upon pavement steps -errtense: I would like to bebeautiful whenriddin -err
The City, The Body, The City (Body) did (not) bend----------->how I lent a little Gesture today, how I came to you to enclose, how our seeing through *this was always a(n) || (non) Entrance. “A (Collapsible) Colon within it”. The Face, the (face) many-(fingers)-many (fucked) Faces.--------->“All having a good time.” A Real Good fucking Time—[!] Going in, going out, from a Hole, surfacing by chance, a Figure’s folding in Approach. “My only expectation has become to settle for what is not Available.” The Mouth’s Emergent, intimidates everything intimates that No One else is *here is an Exposure, a Delay or the Day’s (ghostly) Day. In Other Words---------->Loss & the Resonance of Loss which brings itself to us, in a way of fucking us, which can only be fucking us into that which can only be fucking repeating a sad variation of us fucking us. And yet, the very notion of “fucking” points me to an Idea of Creation. A distinct Progress towards coming-into (on) a Face. So, in *this Sight, everyone’s fucking lost, fucking tumbling into a Hole where producing is counted as encountering the Process of Producing as such, where (such) a touch peels away a Fold; where the Proximity lasts, after all, only as far as the Heart can I was beginning to feel the onset of an Attack where the Points is *this Problem: (is) is the loss of the end of Love & further-away speaking, you are being-on the (bending) Bores of my Shutters tore right-though to *this: All the (rest) Rest of what I say, is Arbitrary, merely Notes against (the) Rest
____
1) Spend less time being curious and more time getting from Point A to Point B. Don’t worry about whether or not you’re missing out, you’ll always be missing out on something and worrying makes you only miss out on more. Train yourself to be happy even just resting on a power line, that’s where the power you’re looking for lies. Just don’t tell the others. They’ll fight you to the death for the warmest spot, where the most power goes.
_____
2) Try waiting it out. Eventually you’ll lose some weight and be able to squeeze out on your own. You look like you could stand to lose a few ounces.
____
3) Name your daughter Beatrice. I think that’s a nice name for a bird, and nobody alive seems to have it these days, so even if she’s dumb and ugly (like, I hate to say it, most pigeons are) she’ll be special. Just don’t call her Bea – it’ll make it lose its charm and make her seem older, dumber and uglier than she ever might be.
______
4) You don’t have to name her anything: I don’t believe that most pigeons have names anyway, the very idea of naming names seems to me to be a distinctly human notion, and since you all have a pretty limited vocabulary to begin with, I might just stick with “coo” – just put a capital on it, make it proper.
__
5) Don’t fly there anymore.
____
6) Stop listening to him, or just peck his eyes out. I don’t ever let what people say really get to me. Opinions are like assholes, you know: everybody is one. If I were you, I’d just be careful not to look like a weak little flapper, fluttering stupid – like you are now. Own your problems and stop looking at me with that crazy red eye. Stick that breast out proud – make yourself look useful, and not just something that shits on people in the park. Of course, by doing so, certain communities might start calling you “squab” and that certainly has more of a morbidly tasty ring to it, if you catch my drift.
_______
I’d just find a good spot on a sunny power line and perch your little asshole self there, with Beatrice, or Coo, and keep watch over what you see with your one good eye for the next year or two you have left.
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(…what is important-------------------->is that the History
of The Body, never be silent (for a Movement
(*this Movement repeats itself
(we can call this my assention
(*this Movement repeats itself
(is one function of my *Ass
(*this Movement repeats itself
(*this Movement repeats itself
(*this Movement repeats itself
(stripped of its vessel (the last Body: excrescence of something Rot
(*this Movement repeats itself
(in a new Subject, vantage supplies a shrewd Play
in its architecture (the Face: becomes
(*this Movement repeats itself
(audible
(*this Movement repeats itself
(the shuffling of Feet, scratching of Skin
(*this Movement repeats itself
~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement repeats itself
(a record of The Manure
(sadly Inept-------------------->I mean
(*this Movement repeats itself
(let the Other’s please stop talking
(*this Movement repeats itself
~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement repeats itself
(*this Movement repeats itself
(*this Movement repeats itself
(and we take inventory during this Time
(*this Movement repeats itself
(*this Movement repeats itself
(shittle on the Horizon
(into an Imitation of Morning
(*this Movement repeats itself
~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement repeats itself
(I am made uncomfortable
when the Figures insist on Smiling
(*this Movement repeats itself
(See, there are only so many
unique Movements (inside the Body
(*this Movement repeats itself
(liposuction—[!]
(*this Movement repeats itself
(extravagantly—[!]
(*this Movement repeats itself
(*this Movement repeats itself
(airlifted, my *Ass as has (has) been
(*this Movement repeats itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement repeats itself
(vision’s reconstructive Mama
(*this Movement repeats itself
(nobody is fucking watching
(*this Movement repeats itself
(and nothing is rendered (—howrel shift
(or: asswax into fruit
(My Beautiful Face
(*this Movement repeats itself
(In Other Words------->a Demotic Corollary || Traffic Surge,
the Figure caught up in the Pussy Carpet
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(traces of crushed Movements
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(who is, is not invited—[?]
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(trips any lit space, any boundary
(the Body
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(in an unfortunate Groove
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(Truly, I am driven to Excess
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(a Grid established not so
much so----------------------->
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(what lies broken (in here
(Heaps
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(shounds of encroaching Winter
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(Vainily Analy:
to assist the Vertical Movement
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(becomes (a Horizontal Desire
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(A Shitstained Gradient
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(O Eh…
(O Dirty, My Little Dirty Birdie
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(the idea vs. its ultimate Execution
of the original idea
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(isometric (& to the Mouth’s Dispersion
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(not so much arriving as
“in time”
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(for love of some Come
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(palette (speculum
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(Form answers Movement
with Desire’s own Apposition
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(not pure, no
(I’m not Pure
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(the One physical reflex is
(the Gag Reflex to catch what’s thrown
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(up to you (up at you
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(lightswell (power source
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(the Madness of fatherhood
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(igneous: (a Heifer—[!]
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(a Muscle Memory
is not the same as
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(Consuming myself innately
breaks (*this Movement (is) in itself
the sad Arch
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(Decomposition (if you have to
“search” for the start
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(for me there Arises
nothing about the bombing
(was quite random
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(capsized (Foul Play
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(to be surrounded
by one’s own (tete—e—tete
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(retrocontraceptive
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(pornomatic
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(coerced Desire (as explanation:
(a storm passes, I say
(*this Movement (is) in itself a storm
(passes, (or has passed
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(an Abysmal Brim (Panopticon;
the Body is either
discursive urinitary (or
(*this Movement (is) in itself
multiple
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(dilation (intention
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(required: everywhere & natural
history of the Shit
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(no, we do not have permission
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(to fuck on *this or that Shore
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(the Interest of Incompletion
(the Desire of being Incomplete
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(the Desire to be Incomplete
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(The larger forms are all Buttholes—[!]
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(if you hold the Body up to one ear
you can hear
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(prodding the Vulgar
(those Brash insistences
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(compel Me to come (in) in
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(It’s coming Winter drives
intimate connections, once again
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(productive mouf-in-motion
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(rather in Chicago
humanly
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(Configured Land[e]scape
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(the wrecked Areolas
(show slow palm (in desuetude
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(probably not Common enough
life enough
being behind Representation
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(SORE (So
(*this Movement (is) in itself
& all smaller so
(Bitched by Defeat
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(spinning in that shallow Embrace
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(should not surprise in your Face
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
SO
(song of [my Feet resists *this Place
SO
(song of [Simpletons—[!]
SO
(song of [how I downed everything ‘round
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(—Ma—[!]
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(on some smaller Thin Chin
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
Oh, to Hell with it anyway (Stunner or that we cannot Escape; weather-in
The End (your Face, obscured
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(in the under Iceberg, Belly belies
(*this Movement (is) in itself
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(*this Movement (is) in itself
(for: we are
(*this Movement (is) in itself
and (*this Movement (is) in itself
(In the End, there is nothing for us to speak about
Panopticon Lovers
____
Description: Panopticon Lovers is all about guys who just have a WEAKNESS for panopticon. These guys get down and smutty. This movie has 5 hot ass-pounding scenes of sincere reveal loving thinkers. These strapping teenaged studs watch and reveal as they gamble and it is pronounced that they really weakness what they are doing.
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Quality: DVDRip
Format: AVI
Video codec: DivX
Audio codec: MPEG Audio (mp3)
Video: 512x384 (1.33:1), 29.970 fps, DivX Codec 5.05 Tahanea ~ 1024 kbps avg, 0.17 bit / pixel
Audio: 44.100 kHz, MPEG Layer 3, 2 ch, ~ 128.00 kbps avg
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Deconstructed Hookups
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Description: At first shimmer you might think these twinks were shy, considering they hookup via passage communication in the same space. Jacques Derrida soon proves that theory phoney by randomly picking up army soldier Avital Ronell for some all American cock discussing services. One after another these twinks find their next deconstructed hookup without any hesitations in this five furor raw feature.
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Video importance: DVDRip
Video Looks: AVI
Video codec: DivX
Audio Codec: MP3
Video: DivX 5 720x400 29.97fps 2000Kbps
Audio: Dolby AC3 48000Hz stereo 192Kbps
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Destabilizing Juice
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Description: Starring Emmanuel Lévinas in his first big one, this hot new twink puts on quite the depict. A wonderful shooter that is skilled of alluring a really brobdingnagian theories. Alert his photo grows as he explodes enormous in the air. Then he take the 9x6 brobdingnagian theories of Umberto Eco and cant get enough before he tops Roland Barthes in another exploding scene.
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Video eminence: DVDRip
Video Shape: AVI
Video codec: DivX
Audio: MP3
Video: 720 x 480 (3:2), 23.976 frames/sec, 1202 Kbps bitrate, mpeg4 DivX5
Audio: 44100 Hz, Dual Convey, 128 kbit/s
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Dirty Deconstructionist Talk
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Description: Smutty raw deconstructionist talk is better when there’s shabby talk convoluted. Our HotStuds tops, Jacques Derrida, “Beat Around The Bush” Deleuze, and hot bottom Jean-Luc Nancy assign it to our budding deconstructionist stars including Jean-François Lyotard and Jean Baudrillard. Dirty Deconstructionist Talk pushes the limits of raunchy twink deconstructionalism with every cum mawkish pit.
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Video Superiority: SiteRip
Video Constitution: AVI
Video Codec: XviD
Audio: MP3
Video: XviD 960x540 29.97fps 2026Kbps
Audio: MPEG Audio Layer 3 22050Hz stereo 64Kbps
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Metalanguage Lovers 2
___
Description: Darling Barthes is in the air as well as hot boy jizz in Metalanguage Lovers 2. Five couples match up up, discuss, and explore each other’s theories in that specific way that only exists between intellectual lovers.
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Quality: DVDRip
Format: AVI
Video Codec: XviD
Audio codec: MPEG Audio
Video: 720x400 (1.80:1), 29.970 fps, Intel ITU H.264 ~ 1499 kbps avg, 0.17 bit/pixel
Audio: 44.100 kHz, MPEG Layer 3, 2 ch, ~ 113.86 kbps avg
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