Sep 2020
once again: there isn't really anything
to write about:
once upon a time: in those
c'est la vie days of yore -
where people could have
their spontaneous elevations of grandeur
and sophistication -
or a complete lack of it...
whichever whatever...
it was somehow a duty to write
a doodle of rat-scuttling imitation:
not some grand fictive escapism -
but this little bit of nuance here...
this little bit of nuance "there"...
fine fine, fine... in the days of c'est la vie...
hell: it's not like we're going
to revise the original thirst of science:
science as an adventure as primordial as
rock star thrilling -
like discovering new elements:
marie curie and polon and radon -
it just seems when chemistry has exhausted
its quest: the two sciences either side of it:
biology and physics have become...
science fiction or... a... debate...
i want to stress that last word with
a dryness -
biology as some variation of
darwinism - this quest of: forever in theory
but never in polite society a practice -
or otherwise post-theory and so otherwise:
merely talk of weather can be more
entertaining -
when science was adventurous:
when it was tinged with the alchemical -
somehow you could weave in a momentary
lapse of: the desired outcome with
some linguistic mini side projects...
like ☿... mercury -
then again: jupiter - ♃ -
extending the prospect of 4...
♅ that belongs to... SHA... cyrillic - ш -
and of course ♆ and phi -
- but how isn't one to behave
on-and-off like a solipsist these days...
it's impossible to write anything
when so many people are not living
their very own...
but when **** good pop comes along
i just want to get out of bed...
miley cyrus' midnight sky teasing
at something that could have come from
a tina turner repertoire...
revisiting the 1980s...
it's a song and i feel
myself immersed in that moment of
stepping out from the underground
while heading to camden town...
teasing at the same sort of "hopes"
as: foster the people's sit next to me...
or LP's - girls go wild...
king rat pretending
to scuttle this little me and my d.j. side-project:
ha ha...
i sobered up watching le mans '66
and couldn't believe that: there's this now:
while there was also: that, then...
i drank too much water and
vomited while taking a shower...
seances of a pedestrian executions of:
out-of-every-instance: an insistence -
my definition of existence...
the best pop in: towing a town along a
great breach of desirable plumbing work-arounds...
that science these days is
this rigid statistical beast:
that anything new is so niche add-on specific
and hardly a thrilling escapade...
a pop song can: change a life of not anticipating
a white noise interlude prior to noon
in an instant... which is kept...
what it would feel: best kept secret is
to froth at the value of feelings that can be
mastered - in this current currency
of fudge-packaging of thought: from the on-high
onslaught of a morbid ms. mundane
about: i put on my sunglasses anticipating
white light from the old mythology
of the bomb not dropped for collateral rummagings
of stat...
lips tied to a bottle...
and an arrow shot at a cloud...
something breezy something easily-come-by
a negation of everything except
a revisiting of spontaneity -
contorts in cubism: that someone somewhere
is somehow playing 4D chess...
because the admiration and skewed rhetoric
is just this now and there was a hunger...
me and my filter complications...
sieving a readership thank god:
that there is no automatic picking up of
a tabloid newspaper like:
sitting on a toilet and nothing is missing:
perhaps beside the ******* to leech on
a hatrick on the throne of thrones...
it's so comforting that you only
eed to keep a cat and wait for it
to trigger a process of petting...
when it wants to be petted while you can
ignore it: for the best part: cactus sire...
best kept in the dark like some *******
mushroom...
hardly thought projects with
solipsism as base and side project of so many
people...
come 00:00... a divine adieu
that will also whisper: come tomorrow and
every branch of my little defeatism -
a life a tree which will never come around
a shorthand of a crucifix.
dangling pseudo-apple: corpus christi -
well yes: a pristine revamp of the old testament...
a genius at work...
otherwise really?
see words with hieroglyphic clarity -
now that i might overload on emoticon saturation?
to write about:
once upon a time: in those
c'est la vie days of yore -
where people could have
their spontaneous elevations of grandeur
and sophistication -
or a complete lack of it...
whichever whatever...
it was somehow a duty to write
a doodle of rat-scuttling imitation:
not some grand fictive escapism -
but this little bit of nuance here...
this little bit of nuance "there"...
fine fine, fine... in the days of c'est la vie...
hell: it's not like we're going
to revise the original thirst of science:
science as an adventure as primordial as
rock star thrilling -
like discovering new elements:
marie curie and polon and radon -
it just seems when chemistry has exhausted
its quest: the two sciences either side of it:
biology and physics have become...
science fiction or... a... debate...
i want to stress that last word with
a dryness -
biology as some variation of
darwinism - this quest of: forever in theory
but never in polite society a practice -
or otherwise post-theory and so otherwise:
merely talk of weather can be more
entertaining -
when science was adventurous:
when it was tinged with the alchemical -
somehow you could weave in a momentary
lapse of: the desired outcome with
some linguistic mini side projects...
like ☿... mercury -
then again: jupiter - ♃ -
extending the prospect of 4...
♅ that belongs to... SHA... cyrillic - ш -
and of course ♆ and phi -
- but how isn't one to behave
on-and-off like a solipsist these days...
it's impossible to write anything
when so many people are not living
their very own...
but when **** good pop comes along
i just want to get out of bed...
miley cyrus' midnight sky teasing
at something that could have come from
a tina turner repertoire...
revisiting the 1980s...
it's a song and i feel
myself immersed in that moment of
stepping out from the underground
while heading to camden town...
teasing at the same sort of "hopes"
as: foster the people's sit next to me...
or LP's - girls go wild...
king rat pretending
to scuttle this little me and my d.j. side-project:
ha ha...
i sobered up watching le mans '66
and couldn't believe that: there's this now:
while there was also: that, then...
i drank too much water and
vomited while taking a shower...
seances of a pedestrian executions of:
out-of-every-instance: an insistence -
my definition of existence...
the best pop in: towing a town along a
great breach of desirable plumbing work-arounds...
that science these days is
this rigid statistical beast:
that anything new is so niche add-on specific
and hardly a thrilling escapade...
a pop song can: change a life of not anticipating
a white noise interlude prior to noon
in an instant... which is kept...
what it would feel: best kept secret is
to froth at the value of feelings that can be
mastered - in this current currency
of fudge-packaging of thought: from the on-high
onslaught of a morbid ms. mundane
about: i put on my sunglasses anticipating
white light from the old mythology
of the bomb not dropped for collateral rummagings
of stat...
lips tied to a bottle...
and an arrow shot at a cloud...
something breezy something easily-come-by
a negation of everything except
a revisiting of spontaneity -
contorts in cubism: that someone somewhere
is somehow playing 4D chess...
because the admiration and skewed rhetoric
is just this now and there was a hunger...
me and my filter complications...
sieving a readership thank god:
that there is no automatic picking up of
a tabloid newspaper like:
sitting on a toilet and nothing is missing:
perhaps beside the ******* to leech on
a hatrick on the throne of thrones...
it's so comforting that you only
eed to keep a cat and wait for it
to trigger a process of petting...
when it wants to be petted while you can
ignore it: for the best part: cactus sire...
best kept in the dark like some *******
mushroom...
hardly thought projects with
solipsism as base and side project of so many
people...
come 00:00... a divine adieu
that will also whisper: come tomorrow and
every branch of my little defeatism -
a life a tree which will never come around
a shorthand of a crucifix.
dangling pseudo-apple: corpus christi -
well yes: a pristine revamp of the old testament...
a genius at work...
otherwise really?
see words with hieroglyphic clarity -
now that i might overload on emoticon saturation?
