.whatever happened to candance owens... is what happened to j. d. salinger and the whole: beam up scotty with david berkowitz (son of sam)?

writing is an extension of thinking:
   where the waggling
metaphysical tongue of the cracked
head translates itself into
sounds: crescendos of soloists...
   but that doesn't imply:
   waggling the actual serpent vortex
from behind the ivory gates...
   in the "aftermath"...
             i slept like a baby...
i guess for about 10 hours...
                deciding to lay this body
to a well-earned rest...
               "free" speech is only the extension
of reading,
           again: one of those pontius pilate
moments...
   unlike the passive ingestion
of a video: theft of attention,
that could otherwise concentrate on
these idle hands,
                     and some music...
come to think of it:
   i'd **** for a vinyl copy of roxette's
album joyride...
       the zenith of a pop genre LP...
truly...
                       but once the news broke...
i wasn't happy,
   i wasn't sad,
    i simply found an irritating sense
of relief,
  sooner or later, the irritation would pass...
and i would return to a numbing
sense of contentment:
  without due reasons...
           merely concerning myself:
one of the laws of newton -
         an equal and opposite reaction...
i think we're all past the stage
of succumbing to some utopian naivety...
from beneath the iron-curtain
   i have come to spread my legs
over the traffic of events being churned
beneath me...
     as with this event...
          i can only say:
   thank you, very much,
    for sharing the feeling of empathy,
for being riddled with cold-cut paranoia
to being able to source some
sort of relief...
            the one-sided narrative
of people being used as punching-bags...
for once, i suppose:
   the other side is able to feel
the same emotions as the side that has
had to entertain criticism with
much more than a waggling tongue...
well... i did hear,
   that the jihadis in the Bataclan incided
would cut-off the testicles of
the dead and ingest them...
        no longer the scared cows
of western secularism it would seem...
maybe i found relief,
   becauase i was finally able to see
a level playing field,
   where - everyone is
                                  equally affected;
there's no real discussion
     of the event itself -
                            it's what comes after...
   so much for the protected minority
status...
   polacks are a minority in England...
oddly enough:
   i would never dream about
  fastening myself to a minority,
    or wanting to claim a "protected status"...
i've integrated too well into
my surrogate culture...
       this: my now surrogate tongue...
but unlike any child and its mother,
   or its father...
              i hope i'm not expected to
somehow... give up my own take on things,
i want be the happy poodle,
                there are limits
                      to the integration process...
i still retain,
    what i inherited from being born
      in a country that was formerly
                         under the soviet dictum.