.among the everyday banality of language, the following is a skim-reading of a week's worth of constrained usage, without a chance for a soliloquy: even the following extract isn't a soliloquy... but, what could be so concerning when... people read harlequins novellas... old women... for me this diatribe against oneself comes in the manner of: last come, last served, and served? not even the crumbs of a worth of debate on the matter... stiffened fingers, and a satiated delicacy of a novel... point being: you can't speak more than you can think: or think more than you can say... in the same way: the more you read, the less chance you will write... with this instance: the Libra is certainly over-weighing me, having ingested a 3 vol. part 2 of Sienkiewicz's trilogy: Potop.

- a month spent away from the internet narrative,
and... it's almost like...
the world gets bigger,
in the smallest of places...
and small... on this... canvas...
a month detached from this medium and...
i don't even know how to
reintegrate myself into it...
i wasn't ever a big comment section
fan...
               so... looking at the blank
is probably the best thing i ever did...

people riling at the new Gillette advert...
well...
                 yeah...
but have you seen the "new" Gillette
advert?
  see, i was watching
Australian Open on eurosport
channel,
    and a Gillette advert came on...
so i thought:
  this must be the advert
           "everyone" on the internet
is riling against...
  in the manner of a
            "conscientious consumer"...
wait a minute...

        dissonance...
the two adverts didn't match-up...
the advert people were riling against
wasn't the advert i saw
while watching yesterday's
Australian Open matches...

   the advert i saw...
the only odd bit was a shot
of a man
               shaving his legs
on the edge of a bathtub...

  what advert is the riling crew on
about?

so it's not the advert of a man
shaving his legs?
                             that's not the one?
        
****! that's not even the same
advert!
   but it's still being aired...
            this "new" advert that i saw...

i don't even know what the new
advert is...
    maybe on eurosport
i did see the new advert...

god... a man shaving his legs
on the edge of a bathtub...
ouch...
  where did that stripper
scene where a man shaves
his chest go?

come stomach region:
i'm ******!

so what i saw only yesterday,
wasn't the new advert?
so i was watching an old
advert?
    
whatever...
      i think i was watching
the thighs of Serena Williams
and thinking:

can a horse, buckle?
****... trick question:
what came first,
the chicken, or the egg?
how about: both, at the same time?

try fitting ***** envy in that...
the subject of objectification,
never objectification per se...
there was never a problem
of being objectified: per se...
but being: subject to an object...

a month spent reading
a novel,
and upon reingaging in
the grand internet narrative
i come across a video
akin to: boogie talks -
the quartering and dating...
what?!
  it's a simple curiosity...

like: today i relearned what
feels normal for me...
a winter's night...
a cold beer...
alleys, scarce street lighting,
a cigarette...
and: a vanilla ice opening
movie scene utopia...
i.e. no one around...

i seriously can't engage in
the narrative...
so i decided to buy cheap
*** and assume that
this would only reiterate an
argument: if i had any
to begin with...

such curiosities...
but in the streets at night...
you pass a cat,
he's eyeing your legs...
you eye his gaze...
and then an impromptu of:
stopping...

in his head: we were just
passing...
but a freezing moment
of my legs, and...

              he scuttles a meter
or two, before i too continue
to walk...

what once was the royalty of
paper,
and a paperback chart...
now...
     a pixel tabloid: gargantuan
glutton - which doesn't even
hide behind an anonymity...
fine print: sure... if it included
my Braille idea...
other than that?

   relegating all as tabloid,
yawn...
   playing the ostrich....
                 or being ostracized?

current fascination?
a Sveedish export: black lake...
like some of joke...
so many variations of HI...
   beside that?
is it horror?
   unless the thing that
scares Swedes the most
                is creaking doors...
i'm actually afraid in
reverse...
   what the **** is this place:
a pseudo-prison,
a penal colony?

          what is scary is
the everyday Swedish nature
of dealing with crime...