once a week i get a chance to sit alone,
sometimes in the company of a cat,
drink in hand,
   and i get to fiddle with the gramaphone...
on todays, menu?
wishbone ash's
     1973 wishbone four...
   what with its rock n roll widow...
which i suppose is a song about
          the assassination of john lennon...
but only with a vinyl record,
with the words in print on it:
made in great britain...
   made it feel like a time warp...
then? 1980 super trouper by abba...
   i almost forgot that the album
begins with a "eurotrash" hit,
  and ends, with a "eurotrash" hit...
then... into the modern era...
i love how wooden shjips
came into their stride with the album V...
it was certainly worth the vinyl...
i switched on the news
a few hours prior...
       hmm... sky news...
what's with all this emphasis on:
white, white, white, white...
        oh... right...
   far-right....
      i know some of those dates
on the evidence... vienna 1683...
     which is kinda of funny...
since i go to a turkish barber...
  and i do not trust anyone:
apart from a turk, to cut my hair,
or trim my beard...
       but it's the same *******
*******, over and over again...
   the guy left a manifesto...
he: rambled on and on...
       lucky on the count that
they just couldn't move the blame
on a mental illness...
   of sorts...
i might as well write this,
   i know people are thinking it anyway...
this is beyond good & evil,
this is beyond condemning the act,
or celebrating it...
   but i'm pretty sure...
that when the Manchester bombing
happened...
   no victims were so quickly
   given audience,
to recount the whole fiasco...
     and, as far as i remember...
   this has been the only prominent
act of retaliation...
     behring... well...
   that was something else,
       the ruling elite was targeted...
and all of this:
   a day prior to
the red nose day...
     it's like: well, now we have to laugh,
laugh to cover it all up...
i have a joke for the sore wounds...
well...
    lone wolf...
   it would have probably taken
about 3 jihadis to pull off a stunt like
that...
   but as i sat there,
watching the vinyl spin...
i felt... an eerie sense of relief...
   a relief in summary akin
to the words:
        so... so now the other half
knows what it feels like...
being attacked...
              point being:
   am i waiting for retaliation...
or just... happily numb...
   but they never insult jihadis
on the news...
                         they never call the language
of a jihadi a vague rambling,
a word salad...
             a low i.q. testimony...
or... critique their taste in music...
what's wrong with
march of the british grenadiers...
**** me...
i could have whistled
the ******* la marseillaise
     and that would be... "in bad taste"...

it was hanging in the air...
it's also a form of white supremacy
to cite certain dates...
  i guess the "elites" would
prefer the other variant of
tattooing yourself...
with actual ink,
on your piglet skin...
  but to remember certains dates...
heresy.

- that's what i find wrong,
being fed some mythical
variant of a heroic masculinity...
   hell...
   take to a boxing ring...
rugby...
   or a semi-automatic
   on a friday at a mosque...
because...
  you're just not that ignorant
about a religion,
knowing the focal point
and time of the selected group's
congregational habits.

- yet the relief was there,
as if i accomplished something...
   the adverse feeling
associated
          with all the terrorist
attacks...
  with the muslims walking about:
*****-nilly...
with some sort of immunity
badge...
like cows in India...
  and the whites being thought
of as these... cuddled...
harmless, passive spectators...
before i turned the news on,
i said to my mother:
   the reasons will not be spectacular...
they'll be pretty *******
shallow, and just idiotically
obvious...
   primordial, ancient...
they always are,
if the results are their most effective...
i mean:
any ****** can whistle
  la marseillaise
or march of the british grenadiers...
last time i heard...
the Edinburgh Tattoo is quiet
popular...
   pomp & circumstance,
pomp & circumstance...
        
   because who isn't an escape artist
at this point,
  attempting to find relief
in a past,
    rather than this...
sordid present....
   that's the whole point of
heidegger's dasein...
  there: is not so much a place,
but a time,
   and a time, that acts as
the bite of the teeth into a fabric,
and pulling it along.

  - see that's why i've learned
to much prefer "petting" cats...
god almighty, i love dogs...
but...
            waste of time,
you can never individuated
yourself around a dog,
can't exactly ignore a dog,
and this whole affair
with a leash?
             no... i still love dogs...
the larger the dog i pass
in public, the more i wish
i could wrestle with it...
and give it the kiss of hades,
by bumping my teeth against
its canines...
    point being:
   a cat can entertain itself,
do, whatever the hell it wants...
and on the odd occassion
when it wants attention,
you give it,
sparingly...
  before returning to yourself,
and it, returning to itself.

           - so now we sorted the original
"problem" out:
  we now know that the other side
knows, what it feels like...
which is good news...
       it's good to share the love,
and the empathy,
more about sharing the empathy,
that's always good...
    at least now,
   we have some sort of a level:
   playing field, should any further
jihadi attacks occur.