i lied... well... to be more exact:
stalled a forthcoming reality...
  when i'm due to visit my grandparents...
my demented grandfather
who still recognizes me:
climbing trees and putting my toddler's
hand into the Alsatian's snout
as a toddler -
   oh Bela Bela Bela...
          a ******* dog...
and god she hated uniformed men,
esp. police officers...
   like the ******* plague...
i like my dementia suffering grandfather,
i love nit-picking at his
memory...
which is grand...
watching an old man sit through
a cameo of existence,
with his own cinema where he's
the central actor...
   it's false what they say:
when you die, you die with an instance,
a timelessness occupying a
space...
           for the whole
"my life flashed before my eyes":
you need to be diagnosed with
dementia...
            i guess: "oops" is in order?
they didn't tell you that,
did they?
      don't worry,
i too thought that good grades at school
could land me an equivalent
of an A+ at the curriculum
activity of obedience...
   didn't ******* work...
that's as much as i know...
         i guess listening to a dementia
sufferer can become tedious,
but you learn to spark up his presence
outside the membrane of
"nostalgia"...
    but it's an old man...
he's bound to become impassioned by a past...
   i know i would...
it's the most ontologically sound
mortality mechanism known to man...
"dementia": no...
not dementia...
  big difference between Alzheimer's
and dementia...
  big, Big, BIG ******* difference...
Alzheimer's is psychotic dementia...
   dementia / nostalgia is quiet
different...
it's an overload of memory...
it's a form of solipsism...
  an automated meditation,
well... "meditation"...
    the man needs an outlet for
his memories...
he can't lock them up in a dungeon...
the tedium comes from
the outlet of the original content
of "natural" selection...
  as "natural" as a woman
   within the confines of the concept
of hypergamy...
   which, evidently,
is the good twin of the evil twin
polygamy...
           the tedium comes around
when you realize precisely
the bewildering nature of
memoria-selectio...
   there's nothing natural about
"natural" selection...
           there are pre-emptive conditioning
within the confines of
ontology - which is still
a framework of study -
not a popularized spew of
biological dogma...
god... can you even imagine how
selective we are with our
experience, back-cataloged with
recounting memories?
  you wouldn't believe the ****...
it's twice as "random"
as a blonde seeking a rich Arab
for a husband so they can
"parent" their pet poodle...
if you're lucky... sure...
prior to death...
you life will flash before your eyes...
apparently we can't select
memories...
   and you'll be lying back,
all afternoon,
watching the cinema of your mind's
content...
demented... by clinical
practitioners...
     sometimes... as in the case
of my grandfather...
dementia likes to couple itself
to either:
   hypochondria...
   or melancholy...
         or sometimes both...
hence my fascination with the phenomenon
of premature melancholy
in the english speaking youth...
how can you actually be depressed
about something,
if the depression doesn't stem from
a post-scriptum?
        i can understand melancholy
in an old man...
but in someone young?
      i'm buying the alternative
argument:
   a guilt from feeling jealousy...
i'm not buying premature depression,
what i am buying is:
   a guilt festering within
the origins of jealousy...
but like with my grandfather:
you have to **** the memory bank,
catching him off-guard,
so he can tell a relative memory
within the same time-frame...
   which rarely happens...
yet as i pointed out...
   i've been covertly studying him...
dementia attracts
hypochondria and depression...
i'll sit and listen to the list
of ailments between
   his memory-cinema -
              or... i'll distract him by
reading a book,
while he sits on the balcony or snoozes
off into the afternoon...
   cook him breakfast:
scrambled eggs with onions -
while he reminds me:
i always eat dairy products,
never meat, for breakfast,
and it has been so for 30 odd years...
   as a former alcoholic
he slipped into
a drug-dependency of
prescription and non-prescription
drugs to combat insomnia...
naturally...
he over-sleeps most of the time...
but...
what do you expect?
   a career in the metalwork factory...
going to bed at 10pm,
waking up at 4am for over 30 years?
dementia is the basis for
an ontological study of:
qua pre qua fro...
                why do people freak out
about dementia "sufferers"?!
   not enough oil in the *******
engine to watch the spectacle of
mortality?!
            they're less disorientated
then middle-aged "concerned" children...
they can solve crosswords...
the problem being:
   you scare them... they'll scare you...
**** me! what a waste of decent reasoning!

.........................
...............................
intermission, akin to the Offspring's
Ixnay on the Hombre
................................
  ..............................­..............

i was once called a, philosopher by some
infatuated teen...
   **** me... that's not a compliment,
or blessing, but a curse!
   imagine going to a birthday party
of an 18 year old...
   you get flocked by seagulls,
of hyenas...
you smile and exhausted smile...
      can this, whatever this is,
please be over?
       the garden and a clingy cat,
companion like a pain in the ***...
of some estranged dog in the forest
as night...
   anything but these thirty or so
***** teen virgins,
sitting in my lap...
pulling at my beard...
          there's ***** with intent...
but then there's ***** without
consent...
talking about consent:
you're better off prostitutes...
what can they dare "claim":
you ***** them?
    the best they can do is claim
is that you didn't PAY THEM...
but as all prostitutes know:
you pay up-front...
so? so pretend your index index
is a tapeworm crawling into one
of your nostrils,
and then pretend to sneeze...

   my arachnophobia reaches
the proportion of spiders that are,
equivalent to the size of
my thumb's nail...
spotted erratically...
by surprise...
  i'm not exactly irrationally
apprehensive,
   whenever i spot a Muslim girl
wearing a headscarf...
   hence the "illogical" apprehension
of a term...

   i lied... why did i lie?
whenever i visit my grandparents
i intend to read
   françois rabelais'
   GARGANTUA & PANTAGRUEL...
ibn **** in your mouth my ***...
i just solved a sudoku puzzle,
and i have a excavated a narrative
to compensate...

quote:
    evil is the work and idle the activity,
   wanting to cleanly wipe one's own
***, with a piece of paper...

like i already mentioned:
#metoo?
   go to prostitutes...
you can't exactly be accused of anything
other than a non-payment...
but then you don't get
accused, you get beaten into a plum...
so? the Pontius Pilate motto:
you wash your hands...
  there's no shame in
what otherwise becomes shame
of being accused...

      you wipe your hands cleans,
and your *** too...
god forbid some teenage girl calls you
a philosopher, in that odd, most odd way...
you're standing right in front of her,
and she summons a ghost,
of someone, saying:
   'talk to this, philosopher'...

see... i need a toothpick for this sort
of crap...
     something is lodged between my teeth...
European languages have a pronouns
concept of nouns...
      a table can be a she,
a chair can be a he...
   english is a grammatically barren tongue...
hence? gender neutrality of
pronouns and identity politics...
    come to think of it...
quiet a ****** language to speak
in cosmopolitan areas -
or rather: a-rears...
        *** for a foocking foot...
and tongue to boot...

           so i'm a "philosopher" to some teenage
girl... in third person...
the girl was talking to a ******* ghost,
i was addressed in third person as
such... sure... my girlfriend's name
is Sophia... but whether it's love,
or not... is a BIG question to mark a genesis
with!

      **** it, whatever...
if you really want to invite the genre of philosophy
into your YA diet of fiction,
there's only one book your need to read...
Russell's - history of western philosophy...
please don't meddle in the headache
of the specific books...

let's begin with a syllogism
(two or more propositions,
combined, to give a third,
identical to the proposed two)...
a Kantian revision of Aristotelian
   barbara:

all men are mortal (major premiss)
socrates is a man (minor premiss)
therefore: socrates is mortal (conclusion).
or?
all men are mortal
all greeks are men
   therefore: all greeks are mortal...

p.s. and some are women.

i propose a variant of this logic...
Kantian...
  a logic of meaning replacing
words with mathematical
symbols,
akin to:
  
   ergo is +, -, x, ÷ or √ etc.
given that est is solidified
by a "mirror" of translation, =.

under the layer of "logic":

1, carrots,
   1, orange,
   2, all carrots are orange...

1 + 1 = 2...

if that makes any sense...
then again...
how many grammatical categories
of words are there,
and how many numbers?

noun, verb, adjective,
pronoun....
             conjunction....
definite / indefinite article...
adverb...
          prefix, suffix,
affix... abbreviation...

   and at this point, i lose count...

0    0    0    7    0    0    0    0    0
0    0    4  ­  5    8    0    0    6    2
5    0    0    6    0    0    0    9­    0
1    0    6    0    0    0    7    0    0
0    0    8    0 ­   0    0    9    0    0
0    0    7    0    0    0    2    0    ­4
0    2    0    0    0    3    0    0    8
4    8    0    0    9­    6    1    0    0
0    0    0    0    0    1    0    0    0

t­hus, the narrative
to compose
via the following
narrative:

9 2 1 6 8 8 8 6
9 7 1 1 1 3 3 7
9 4 2 2 3 3 6 9
6 6 7 7 7 7 5 2
4 5 2 3 4 4 5 3
5 5 2 5 8 8 1 3
3 1 4 9 9 4 5 ( )...

this

8    6    9    7    3    2    5    4    1
7    1    4­    5    8    9    3    6    2
5    3    2    6    1    4    8   ­ 9    7
1    4    6    9    2    8    7    3    5
2    5    8    ­3    4    7    9    1    6
3    9    7    1    6    5    2    8  ­  4
9    2    1    4    7    3    6    5    8
4    8    5    2   ­ 9    6    1    7    3
6    7    3    8    5    1    4    2    9.­..

and i once said i'd depict this sort
of "narrative"... sober...
      well **** me...
even i wished myself
          good-luck!

then again: even i know i over-stretched
the whole case to revise
Aristotelian logic...
   it's not that the "argument"
i made doesn't make sense,
it only means that i don't,
even vaguely, want to entrench it
into a solidified case for defense
that might span centuries...

            basically...
if all sentences begin and end with
the intermediating: ergo...
    can we bypass some things?
    i hate propositions,
maxim writings akin to Nietzsche,
because, simply because they are
propositions...
         they're not presuppositions...
and even if they are presuppositions...
which they are not...
        you can test any proposition
and ensure it's the truth,
by failing to comply with
a presupposition...

   i hate aphorisms...
precisely because...
wait...
           it's true because it has been
tested / experienced?
          it's proposed because
it can't be presupposed as
ontologically inherent?
    what is it?!
         so if it is an observation
a posteriori...
         what could possibly galvanize
these philosophies toward
orientation "supposing"
objective truths?
  
as far as i am concerned:
subjectivity is wholly a posteriori...
while objectivity is wholly
a priori...
    which confuses me...
          how can you write
an aphorism -
mind you, aphorisms are engrossed
in the biographical -
    and suppose it to be
an apriori, objective truth?
  
     no... i will not elaborate on
this observation...
                too busy... drinking.