Sep 2017
i too have my white dove, circling the cul de sac in my myopic vicinity (although i mean that as a metaphor) - oh, no, the white dove is real, for some strange reason it suddenly appeared to visit me from time to time, marrying the city with the countryside, and those woodland pigeons (much larger than the urban ones, and so much cleaner) - who decided to poker the "rat race" of existential re re re (again again again), by building a nest in a tree in my garden, knowing, full well, that there are two cats roaming the earth beneath the nest.
why did i grow a beard? there is nothing lumberjack
fashionista about, not plated, pleaded,
what do you call those chequered shirts?
no, nothing to "look" the "part" while reading
a philosophy book (come on, i did three
years at university, specialising in organic chemistry),
i just became bored of shaving -
although, mind you, once you grow a beard,
you start to itch (not from the hair) -
but for a desire to shave...
and that feel of sandpaper stubble -
which is probably the reverse sentiment
for women who shave their genital hairs...
miss the ol' mr. fluffy i imagine -
don't worry, you can have mr. fluffy on my face,
the hairs are pretty much the same consistency
of roughness - nor the sort of silky hairs on
your head.
that being said, i have no idea why i'm still
reading heidegger's ponderings ii - vi...
oh right, they're in maxim form, which means
i get to do a lot of thinking in between
every interaction with that **** text...
which is great, i note down the little detail -
or as i like to call them: the bunce digressions;
bunce? yeah, scottish english teacher from
my high school, the most adored teacher
in the school, his teaching style as riddled with
digression, well, more like anecdotes -
i guess that's how you really teach a language:
throw out the grammatical junk,
and just talk about life...
i couldn't stop internally laughing when he
got promoted to the position of *head of year
for class 11 (16 year olds) - and had to sharpen
up, become a serious person, i.e. don a suit
and tie, far removed from his usual linen open
shirts and jeans...
but the coolio mc-glassy-woz-e died a mighty
death, at the feet of mr. grey and the pink
floyd mantra brigade antithesis, thesis-ses - sez?
and that question is over, with a german: ß -
**** it, put the two together, someone will
say size, someone else will say sigh zzz,
or the opposite zise - rice? ****, there's a c in that
too?!
oh wait, and a k two... no! too too!
see, that's the thing with english -
why would you even erode your beautiful memory
bank with the alphabet?
why? as long as you can remember the 26
horsemen of the apocalypse, does remembering
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u w x y z
even matter? they're still going to be minced
meat in words, juxtaposed - having a notting hill
carnival anyway... so? 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 -
now that, is what you need to know -
but as long as you can remember all of the 26 -
as an english teacher: i wouldn't bother
laming yourself with the "correct" sequence -
*******, learn gymnastics, proper.
oh right, philosophy, beards, "slow" reading -
perched on a windowsill having a cigarette -
you know what i find?
after reading a philosophy book - any for
that matter - certain genres of literature become
more: entertaining - or at least more fluid -
you certainly learn to read faster -
i'm still knackered by the enforced intensity
of non-narrative anti-greek idea of poetry -
this haiku vogue of: so what,
these 15 16 19 syllables are supposed to give
be a ******* heart attack's worth of emotion
and dead weight, that sinking emotion of
seeing a ****** bride sink, to the common
of an ocean?
i see david attenborough fiddling with
a sloth and i become my worst enemy:
a drunkard who turns out, is also a sentimentalist,
odd combination, nonetheless:
better than the fiend wife beater,
so, m'eh;
but i just picked up on this, well, honed
in on it - philosophy is filled with cul de sacs -
oh yeah, riddled with them,
and circles, every single question in philosophy
is a circle, i.e. every ? = O.
the cul de sacs? more like a pair of *******
crutches -
ad infinitum, ad nauseam,
noumenon, phenomenon,
per se, there are so many others -
they're like maxim endings within new
and "advanced" maxims -
crutches -
shorthand -
like most of university mathematics is -
can't exactly tell why mathematicians are
terrible arithmetic squanderers -
always riddling with their ****** abstracts -
so A U V = S T D - or some other ******* -
then you ask 'em: count me my chickens!
i already know how many i have,
and the ******* come up with:
the square root of √-i: i? yes, i.
what's i? an imaginary number?
an imaginary number? (an eddie izzard moment) -
an imaginary number? what's an
imaginary number?
oh, it's complex.
complex as in an S is a serpent,
a Z is a cubism's take on a serpent and
almost every tree (apart from the pines)
looks like a Y, and subsequently a serpents
tongue, how every B, looks like... ahem...
every pair of binoculars?!
yes.
fair enough... nuff, nuff...
i'm just going to be over there,
finishing my drink, and then walking
out the door, and getting some more, mmm'kay?
why did i grow a beard? there is nothing lumberjack
fashionista about, not plated, pleaded,
what do you call those chequered shirts?
no, nothing to "look" the "part" while reading
a philosophy book (come on, i did three
years at university, specialising in organic chemistry),
i just became bored of shaving -
although, mind you, once you grow a beard,
you start to itch (not from the hair) -
but for a desire to shave...
and that feel of sandpaper stubble -
which is probably the reverse sentiment
for women who shave their genital hairs...
miss the ol' mr. fluffy i imagine -
don't worry, you can have mr. fluffy on my face,
the hairs are pretty much the same consistency
of roughness - nor the sort of silky hairs on
your head.
that being said, i have no idea why i'm still
reading heidegger's ponderings ii - vi...
oh right, they're in maxim form, which means
i get to do a lot of thinking in between
every interaction with that **** text...
which is great, i note down the little detail -
or as i like to call them: the bunce digressions;
bunce? yeah, scottish english teacher from
my high school, the most adored teacher
in the school, his teaching style as riddled with
digression, well, more like anecdotes -
i guess that's how you really teach a language:
throw out the grammatical junk,
and just talk about life...
i couldn't stop internally laughing when he
got promoted to the position of *head of year
for class 11 (16 year olds) - and had to sharpen
up, become a serious person, i.e. don a suit
and tie, far removed from his usual linen open
shirts and jeans...
but the coolio mc-glassy-woz-e died a mighty
death, at the feet of mr. grey and the pink
floyd mantra brigade antithesis, thesis-ses - sez?
and that question is over, with a german: ß -
**** it, put the two together, someone will
say size, someone else will say sigh zzz,
or the opposite zise - rice? ****, there's a c in that
too?!
oh wait, and a k two... no! too too!
see, that's the thing with english -
why would you even erode your beautiful memory
bank with the alphabet?
why? as long as you can remember the 26
horsemen of the apocalypse, does remembering
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u w x y z
even matter? they're still going to be minced
meat in words, juxtaposed - having a notting hill
carnival anyway... so? 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 -
now that, is what you need to know -
but as long as you can remember all of the 26 -
as an english teacher: i wouldn't bother
laming yourself with the "correct" sequence -
*******, learn gymnastics, proper.
oh right, philosophy, beards, "slow" reading -
perched on a windowsill having a cigarette -
you know what i find?
after reading a philosophy book - any for
that matter - certain genres of literature become
more: entertaining - or at least more fluid -
you certainly learn to read faster -
i'm still knackered by the enforced intensity
of non-narrative anti-greek idea of poetry -
this haiku vogue of: so what,
these 15 16 19 syllables are supposed to give
be a ******* heart attack's worth of emotion
and dead weight, that sinking emotion of
seeing a ****** bride sink, to the common
of an ocean?
i see david attenborough fiddling with
a sloth and i become my worst enemy:
a drunkard who turns out, is also a sentimentalist,
odd combination, nonetheless:
better than the fiend wife beater,
so, m'eh;
but i just picked up on this, well, honed
in on it - philosophy is filled with cul de sacs -
oh yeah, riddled with them,
and circles, every single question in philosophy
is a circle, i.e. every ? = O.
the cul de sacs? more like a pair of *******
crutches -
ad infinitum, ad nauseam,
noumenon, phenomenon,
per se, there are so many others -
they're like maxim endings within new
and "advanced" maxims -
crutches -
shorthand -
like most of university mathematics is -
can't exactly tell why mathematicians are
terrible arithmetic squanderers -
always riddling with their ****** abstracts -
so A U V = S T D - or some other ******* -
then you ask 'em: count me my chickens!
i already know how many i have,
and the ******* come up with:
the square root of √-i: i? yes, i.
what's i? an imaginary number?
an imaginary number? (an eddie izzard moment) -
an imaginary number? what's an
imaginary number?
oh, it's complex.
complex as in an S is a serpent,
a Z is a cubism's take on a serpent and
almost every tree (apart from the pines)
looks like a Y, and subsequently a serpents
tongue, how every B, looks like... ahem...
every pair of binoculars?!
yes.
fair enough... nuff, nuff...
i'm just going to be over there,
finishing my drink, and then walking
out the door, and getting some more, mmm'kay?
