David Joel Friedman? Listen to this:
Zero, said the deadlock. Habeus corpus, said the matter-of-fact. Old, said the tin pan alley.
With this in mind the sawyer blew out the candle and in the dark rubbed elbows with the carboniferous. And by a shoestring guise he awakened the sentiment of the old confabulator. Please, said the touchstone, touch me. Please, said the touch, a plea. An apple if you will, sir, said the halibut. Until at last it was one fish talking to another, and the bubbles rose to the surface. And the flood huddled in the wings, where the trap was, pulled by horses, spun in a genuine conglomerate of seed; like the scree of a metaphor, when you have hugged and pinched it. Like a flugelhorn.
(from The Welcome, University of Illinois Press)
"out of cups" - The email Chris sent me with this picture was so great, I will paste the whole thing here: The only message this machine quotes at us from time to time....
5 hours ago