Oct 2017
it seems so much noble to be called a jihadi, than to be called a "mentally ill" westerner; call these men by their cultish extremity names, call them crusaders, the barons of the cross, but don't mix secularism into the mix! psychiatric designation will only get you so far along the tribal wave of reaction, you can't keep it contained in a parliament of witches and poncy warlocks who can't summon a black to their bidding, then getting two english girls safely home, after one approaches you emerging from the deathly hollows of a darkened public park, rolling her a cigarette, looking at her cleavage, and then searching for her friend, lying face down on the pavement, offering her your hoodie.
and i do read **** literature,
heidegger,
you know, i once had an irish friend,
but then he despised that i was
of pedigree breed,
although not of cognitive pedigree...
and he hated it,
being quarter indian, half irish,
and i don't know what the other quarter
came from...
he just said: you best be among
your people - to which i replied:
but i am!
22+ years in england,
the **** have i in common with
the pollocks?
a ******* attempt at painting?
didn't work, kept his marker,
what ****** me off was that his
shamrock stupendous chose
a cypriot for a friend...
and while an old boxing fan joined
us for drinks once time,
while i nipped off to the gents
i came back, and the ol' ****** was
gesticulating:
you wanna say what you said
about him outloud?
sticking his index into his nose
imitating a boxed case of a punch...
the supposed "fwend"?
sat there, knee jerking, playing
air drums...
and then he comes up with:
better stick with your kind?
kind of what? mongrel?!
you're a ******* mongrel,
how about you kiss a melting candle,
******* *******.
we sparred once, i guess he was
gearing up to a big fight with me,
lest he forget i too practice boxing:
on my own face...
if i get to punch myself out:
i'm a winner...
i waited for a day, 2 day came and i
could finally, finally! feel the punches
on my jaw...
20+ years in england and i'm supposed
to make fwends with the 2004 tide
of immigrants? you have to be kidding me,
i don't have any friends back "home"...
what am i, scurvy shamrock?
if this is what integration of
whites among whites ends up being:
thank you, i'll take the curry recipe
and *******, leave you two gents deciding
who's to blame...
times of conquest and the prize-woven
artefact of women has just sailed
on the titanic...
i just read heidegger...
like any philosophy book, esp. ones prone
to aphorisms, you read the same book
x3, in one sitting...
aphorism 64 ponderings VI...
history has become the annihilation of time
(24h news reels) -
and by aphorism LXV -
it has become a concern to annihilate space -
which is a paradoxical statement
with cf. *dasein...
if we are to break away from the relativism
of a space-time compound, and break from
this suggested continuum,
we must break away from relativism altogether,
and enter the realm of absolutism,
whereby time & space are once more
parallel, or so divergent, that the next
convergence (X) of the two can happen a long
time into the future...
it would seem that relativism has outlasted
its best-before date of "fascination",
once more, the return to absolutism,
given the anti-philosophical convergence
of medicinal dichotomy into a dualism:
the unison mind = body = mind...
and as in LXIV, VI,
we do live in an age without questioning -
we seem to be living in an age of only acquiring
answers, facts, there is an absolutely lack
of acquiring questions!
questions are a medium of expressing inquiry
lost to what could be best riddle in a novel,
whereby pronoun "neutrality" is best given
the following extract:
? walked into the bathroom, and peered into
the mirror.
whether in shock, or in awe, ? replied
as a mime might: ?!
to which the reflection replied
of its own mechanisations: !
and you might inquire: the **** is this?
a quote from casablanca, with bogart doing his:
here's looking at you kid?
the out-shouted anxiety in the face of
the question-worthiness of being (heidegger)...
who the hell wants to live in a world that's
only governed by the safeguarding
of a cascade of mere answers?
this is a **** party member, in the 1930s...
writing this sort of prophetic usherance
of the times we live in, now!
i, for one, know that i don't live in
a world of worthy questions,
or questions at all...
i live in a world where knowledge is trivia!
i live in a world where there is no
gain from knowing something,
but merely guessing at it, or making fun
of it: i.e. gambling!
this world is not worth the speedy congratulatory
*******-up to sycophancy by comparing
it to the previous days,
let us forget taking to history in relative terms,
let us take to absolute terms,
no time according to this one was
any worse, or any better,
that's as much relativism as we're going to
ingest...
but i can't expect to find myself in questioning
times, i find myself in pompous
constantly answering times,
there's about as much awe in these
times, as there's surprise in a soft boiled egg
with a runny yoke...
no!
it has become harder and harder to
find the right question to craft a momentum,
than what already is the right answer,
that simply stalls all wishes for momentum;
time to look for the question,
rather than regurgitate all the "necessary" answers.
and i do read **** literature,
heidegger,
you know, i once had an irish friend,
but then he despised that i was
of pedigree breed,
although not of cognitive pedigree...
and he hated it,
being quarter indian, half irish,
and i don't know what the other quarter
came from...
he just said: you best be among
your people - to which i replied:
but i am!
22+ years in england,
the **** have i in common with
the pollocks?
a ******* attempt at painting?
didn't work, kept his marker,
what ****** me off was that his
shamrock stupendous chose
a cypriot for a friend...
and while an old boxing fan joined
us for drinks once time,
while i nipped off to the gents
i came back, and the ol' ****** was
gesticulating:
you wanna say what you said
about him outloud?
sticking his index into his nose
imitating a boxed case of a punch...
the supposed "fwend"?
sat there, knee jerking, playing
air drums...
and then he comes up with:
better stick with your kind?
kind of what? mongrel?!
you're a ******* mongrel,
how about you kiss a melting candle,
******* *******.
we sparred once, i guess he was
gearing up to a big fight with me,
lest he forget i too practice boxing:
on my own face...
if i get to punch myself out:
i'm a winner...
i waited for a day, 2 day came and i
could finally, finally! feel the punches
on my jaw...
20+ years in england and i'm supposed
to make fwends with the 2004 tide
of immigrants? you have to be kidding me,
i don't have any friends back "home"...
what am i, scurvy shamrock?
if this is what integration of
whites among whites ends up being:
thank you, i'll take the curry recipe
and *******, leave you two gents deciding
who's to blame...
times of conquest and the prize-woven
artefact of women has just sailed
on the titanic...
i just read heidegger...
like any philosophy book, esp. ones prone
to aphorisms, you read the same book
x3, in one sitting...
aphorism 64 ponderings VI...
history has become the annihilation of time
(24h news reels) -
and by aphorism LXV -
it has become a concern to annihilate space -
which is a paradoxical statement
with cf. *dasein...
if we are to break away from the relativism
of a space-time compound, and break from
this suggested continuum,
we must break away from relativism altogether,
and enter the realm of absolutism,
whereby time & space are once more
parallel, or so divergent, that the next
convergence (X) of the two can happen a long
time into the future...
it would seem that relativism has outlasted
its best-before date of "fascination",
once more, the return to absolutism,
given the anti-philosophical convergence
of medicinal dichotomy into a dualism:
the unison mind = body = mind...
and as in LXIV, VI,
we do live in an age without questioning -
we seem to be living in an age of only acquiring
answers, facts, there is an absolutely lack
of acquiring questions!
questions are a medium of expressing inquiry
lost to what could be best riddle in a novel,
whereby pronoun "neutrality" is best given
the following extract:
? walked into the bathroom, and peered into
the mirror.
whether in shock, or in awe, ? replied
as a mime might: ?!
to which the reflection replied
of its own mechanisations: !
and you might inquire: the **** is this?
a quote from casablanca, with bogart doing his:
here's looking at you kid?
the out-shouted anxiety in the face of
the question-worthiness of being (heidegger)...
who the hell wants to live in a world that's
only governed by the safeguarding
of a cascade of mere answers?
this is a **** party member, in the 1930s...
writing this sort of prophetic usherance
of the times we live in, now!
i, for one, know that i don't live in
a world of worthy questions,
or questions at all...
i live in a world where knowledge is trivia!
i live in a world where there is no
gain from knowing something,
but merely guessing at it, or making fun
of it: i.e. gambling!
this world is not worth the speedy congratulatory
*******-up to sycophancy by comparing
it to the previous days,
let us forget taking to history in relative terms,
let us take to absolute terms,
no time according to this one was
any worse, or any better,
that's as much relativism as we're going to
ingest...
but i can't expect to find myself in questioning
times, i find myself in pompous
constantly answering times,
there's about as much awe in these
times, as there's surprise in a soft boiled egg
with a runny yoke...
no!
it has become harder and harder to
find the right question to craft a momentum,
than what already is the right answer,
that simply stalls all wishes for momentum;
time to look for the question,
rather than regurgitate all the "necessary" answers.
