the idea being, opposed to what james joyce invented in ulysses and sartre replicated with a lack of punctuation marks: point being - at what point is atlas speaking, and at what point is sisyphus speaking? and, as it happens: when are both speaking, and where one of the either is introspecting in the domain of thought... that least futile realm of action, that act of mining: enter the minotaur, who said: you keep both your orbs, i'm attempting a crossword puzzle from (a) to (b) with the only clues intertwined with a memorisation of R L L R R R L L R L R L R L L L L R L R R E (R. turn right / L. turn left, E. exit).
i'm getting this void re-entering
the orbit of planet-365 -
and it's bugging me -
quite a simple observation -
what's with the volume of jokes?
western society is peppered
with comedy, or rather in
the non-classical sense of what
a comedy ought to be:
they ****** the poets throughout
the ages: but comedians are
not writing comedies:
they're writing sketches - comedy
sketches... is anyone as tired as me
languishing under the:
why is the fate of sisyphus always
deemed worse than the fate
i find that western society
has become infested with a comedy
i've never so many jokes akin
to ****** laughter, where what could
have been genuine, is merely
canned laughter replication...
so many jokes have been said:
but of the many jokes -
i remember my childhood,
as children we used to tell each other
jokes, and remember them...
there was this one about killing
mosquitos and how we went to the 3rd
mosquito's killed funeral...
some classics, that remain lost,
or at least archived in the deepest
recess of memory...
if there ever was a plight of the west,
it came when western societies
"thought" themselves to be funny...
****, it was going so great up to the early
boy, they could sing... they could
sing their hearts out!
but then they stopped singing
and thought it was better to tell a joke:
mind you: there are no decent jokes
in the anglophone world -
(a) too many jokes are being said
(b) a joke is a correctional facility
based more upon insinuated-clarification
than slap-stick spontaneity...
and there's, of course
(c) with so many jokes, it's hard
to tell a decent one...
a memorable one...
i still think the anglophone world should
have concentrated on their singing
can we talk about the black privilege of
the bible belt gospel choirs?!
the 100m sprinters?!
breathing apparatus of the choir
like the guns of navarro!
why do the english-speaking
nations suddenly think they're funny?
if you managed to watch the original
comedy show from the 1970s
you'd find that there was no canned laughter
instrumented like a bad italian *****...
akin to the moment in *the brand new testament
with ea telling marc that he has a nice
voice, so he does the "subtitles of onomatopoeia"
versus authentic pleasure in the movie...
and meets his german sweetheart...
the downfall of western society,
if there ever was one, given the 1920s observations
from germany: when the english stopped
singing, and turned their sight toward
i hate comedy for lazy people,
as much as i hate intelligent comedy,
i hate modern comedy because modern comedy
is sketchy, it's not scripted to a proper
comedy in the classical sense -
the more jokes you tell,
the less chance you have of a memorable
i sometimes wish to read a book
of maxims: and find a joke among them -
like the joke of the two picts copper wire
a penny argument and stretch armstrong -
or how welsh men get laid,
pushing a mutton off a cliff...
tell me a joke worth being said
side-by-side akin to vine vidi vici -
and you can have the floor...
i think i've had enough of
i am actually beyond tired to respond
the anglophone world used
to have just great songs, and by having
great songs was renowned for
telling bad, overly intelligent jokes -
in all honesty i find more
laughter from moments in between
sedative refills where i am looking for
a cogito - that has no ergo-bridge
arithmetic into a sum -
i laugh, because once i start
looking for my "narrative" -
or the "loss" of therein -
the moment i stop thinking and
never demand it to resurge with a "purpose"
i find that - omnia in aether est
(all is in the air) -
which is just an alea iacta est
funny: i find catching myself not thinking -
more funny, than any current take
on comedy -
and it's not exactly pennies
falling from heaven:
everything on this earth is thrown
into the air, and whoever catches what he
catches - he tends to -
the same fatalism as of old.