Today I am a lump over paper, crossing and scribbling, mixing and erasing. The act evokes my darker senses, as if the words formed nerves and cartilage, the blocks and crossings like muscle fibers on bone. When I am finished, there will lie a monster.

The theme is cooking/kitchen essentials. With a list of 150 words, I am stumped after twining 20.

I may just break down, buy a program, and skip to the riddling.

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