she was enticing, i must add, but not the point where
i might find myself buying her jewels...
   and other symbols of the archaic statement of
reciprocated show of affection...
     she chose her own engagement ring...
                                 it wasn't much, by my standards
of wealth, but what mattered was the essential promise
of proposal...
                rarely does a man get "*****" into being
proposed...         so little planning goes into the affair
on man's behalf, that he simply regresses into a state
    of a procelain doll...
                      or, for that matter: becomes a st. thomas'
babushka doll: full of surprises...
        here's to it! an ode to oakheart!
                 a bacardi brew at 35% (imagine the arithmetic
that went into buying this liquor...
          how much less do i get from the standard 40%
dosage of *****? five beers? six? seven?) -
they don't even cite the spices used... or what sort of
wood the liquor was stored in... the *******...
          bold yet smooth & mellow taste?
  seriously?
    see... this girl really believed in the herr mannelig
story... myth... a knight becomes enticed by a female troll...
   she had this mirror she called to,
   and it wasn't the sort of story that you could
recount with the word: mirror mirror, on the wall,
   who's the fairest of them all?
         oh no... this image-projection was thick as the darkest
of all possible nights... she was a real trollfrau...
  a female troll... a gamer... a girl who was into
painting warhammer figurines...
               i had no complaint about that... after all...
she was playing video games, but encouraged that i read
bulgakov's: the master and margarita...
    which i did...
                 but as a 19 year old... her obsession with
the herr mannelig fable reached a pinnacle...
   and my once dear trollfrau became so so lost in her black
widow web of lies, that she was never resurrected.
        well i couldn't complain about her prettiness...
      i wasn't the one to judge what she noted
about her slightly large proportion of nose...
   but since she lied that she used to roller-blade
and hit the tarmac face-down, and this enlarged her nose
to slightly fatter proprotion?
         lies have short legs... lies are like dwarfs...
        it's not exactly zeno's achilles and the tortoise:
     in non-paradoxical language... one will catch up with the other;
obviously there is a time delay... but one can't remain
in the abstract from the other.
         she also wore glasses...
            and yes, even though i don't have to wear glasses,
i checked out the effect that glasses have on perception...
she thought she had short legs...
       wear myopia glasses for long enough... and you too will
imagine yourself several inches shorter than you actually are.
once i found variations of the folk song that she
really stressed to be her favourite,
      i found a woman's voice singing herr mannelig
as being the complete opposite to her first suggestion:
namely in extremo's version of it... a male voice singing
for trollfrau's narration? it couldn't happen...
   there's germarna's version,
and there's tibetréa's version...
                 which coincides with what i do on a very
rare occassion... like... watch the "eurovision" song contest...
australia? really? so why not include canada and america
in this farcical of all possible contests?
     the belgian song from the current year, 2017...
      i actually... i actually ******* liked it... blanche - city lights;
if this song doesn't win... i'm going to swallow
                        half a kilogram of chewing-gum;
there's only about 1 10th of decency in just contests....
the rest is eurotrash...
                             what's the real comedy... because feel
more embarrassed about their musical tastes,
  than about their ****** preferences... they'll speak about
their ****** this-that-and-the-other... than what music
they like, since they prefer being degraded by ****** acts...
than being degraded by talk of "embarrassing" music tastes...
   let's just say: it's not akin to sadistic ***,
   and talk of a taste in music, that's the sound of a hammer,
     pounding at nails.