so i'm sitting there, on my windowsill, drinking a blackbeard
(dark *** & ms. pepsi), and solving a sudoku...
existentialism can, really get you kicking the paranoid bucket,
esp. if you read something by jean-paul sartre...
was it him, or was it someone else, who said:
to be, is to be seen...    no wonder, the need for fashion...
                              or might as well call it ****, given it's
coming from france anway...
oh but my "neighbours" (i'd say neighbours if i actually
talked to them... so much for the hope of "integrating"
into english society, when your neighbours play idiots,
or mutes, and you could die in their presence, and then they'd
talk... but only about the stench of a rotting corpse
two weeks later)...
                         anyways... so i'm solving this sudoku and that quote
hits me... someone, might actually be watching me,
  voyeurism is a thing these days, apparently, borrowed
from the 20th century french existentialists...
       but i can't help it after a while... so i'm mumbling to myself,
3    8     5          4    6  9     1     7    2    
6
1
7
4
2          
8                                                               ­            (1 2 3
5                                                              ­              4 5 6
9                                                              ­              7 8 9)...
the mumbling bit comes nearing the end of the puzzle
when you do count: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9... as enforced by the brackets...
  but then laughter arises from my filthy gob...
            i'm not, rain man for ****'s sake! ha ha!
i'm not even going to answer that by saying: oh yeah, i'm 'ard
downing some *** and pepsi...
                              i just like drinking... it's the sedative property
of alcohol that some... well... most people have yet to discover...
        saying that... most people won't...
  so they'll turn to barbiturates... or *****... or marijuana...
   oh hey... nietzsche lamented this scenario...
                                he was high as a kite on barbiturates
(personal life detail)... and he implored to be taught by
     dionysus... to be a disciple of the god of wine...
                       some people really don't know how to drink,
they go off the tangent, it seems a steady diet and then
an inject of "empty" calories in drinks which makes them
           go off the rails, and turn into
                                   absolute bonkers *****...
               this would have been his last and only invocation:
to become a disciple of someone who could school them in drinking...
i'm not too sure about dionysus-ultra, i.e. hitting the rums
    and whiskeys and vodkas...
     you know that story about spartans, right?
   they used to drink wine, but diluted it, half & half...
   and when they wanted to shame an alcoholic
   they gave him the full measure, and marched him down
the street of lacadaemon, kicking him up the ***...
    very much translated into putting a dunce's cap on
someone, and making him ride a donkey, sitting backwards...
                but you can sense from the extract of his writings
(ecce ****?), that he became fed-up with the barbiturates...
   miserable ****** wanted to learn how to laugh
                                         while drinking in his solitude;
and i'd tell him just as much: most people can't laugh
when drinking by themselves... the miserable ***** while never
learn, to unlearn their idea of drinking as a case for
stupid pranks, grizzly ***, and in general... a bad scene on
a night club's dancefloor.