something akin to ageing grunge - it's somehow up there where: ageing rocking (proper) will never be - it's an ongoing nostalgia: but it's not even that... pearl jam's vitalogy - well... it was never going to be a nightclub dancefloor filler - clearly it's not nirvana - such mundane observations that they have to be met with a blank canvas: that there's nothing archaic or... forbidden - or even a Tironian shorthand - well... but i assured myself: no two thoughts are the same - but coming across a feelz synchronicity - don't ask... watching caroline garcia come back set down against elise mertens - well first of all: play on clay is so... so... slo-mo... compared to the other surfaces... you can almost sense that the tennis ball is picking up clay dust and with each hit in a rally: more force is needed: the players also tend to hit the ball higher so there's a higher bounce... how often they can be duped "thinking" they can get to the second bounce and prevent it... a game of 7 rectangles and... a football team's worth of line judges: plus the ball boys / girls... tennis... the bigger picture... god... that french aesthetic of a woman... i briefly dated a french girl... isa-bella - and she was that sort of generic french: that someone like caroline garcia does represent... the big picture... equal rights blah blah... women need to box... count how many bones in a ribcage - a sport for vengeful prostitutes - or so i've heard from: a million dollar baby... well... at least now in sport the audience size is pretty much the same: women's singles still attracted a bigger crowd than any doubles... beside equal rights: true... women should play to 3 set best... joke: whatever... women's tennis was almost more entertaining to watch to begin with: after all... there was never a raonic or a... any of those: serve rapists with no dialogue - precision ****** serve - cul de sac games: which would never have allowed for the creation of PONG... just that routine of pacman - anyways... women's equality in sport... the olympics are a fine example: i don't need to see any discrimination bias - it's just poetically different... a bit like how women and men approach love... but... football or rugby... or boxing... it's not like they can't... do what men do: but... hell: maybe i should stash my poems into a drawer and only read them aloud to my family... or... hell! an anonymous audience! - and don't we enjoy that readership privacy where one can remain anonymous - after all... i don't know what i'd do with all these... unnecessary comments... beef: ego-tripping... some new self-esteem purse? well now with the "pandemic" - little god of the underworld and sneeze! finally! a proper experience of omnipresence! we have ourselves a tease of... should the demiurge - should... who the hell wants to watch women play cricket, football... or box? rock-climbing - tennis - all the sports in the olympic plethora... oh god: most certainly yes! - i had to check who roland garros was today... apparently they named the stadium after him... and from naming the stadium... they named the tournament... odd... given that... well... it must be a french thing... naming a tennis tournament after an aviator - who won 4 dog fights during world war one... em... tennis and... mind you... wimbledon and the only whites policy when it comes to clothing... or how lewis hamilton was turned away from the royal box because he was not wearing the full anti-monty of shirt, jacket and tie... but white on green... fair enough... clay is just itching for contrast of colours... subtle hues of blue.... to contrast with: it's not orange... if it's going to be orange it's going to be Ayer's rock... orange... at sunset... but not even that... then you can have all the bold colours... i imagine that a deep mint of t-shirt and shorts would be so well balanced in contrasting... eh... a canvas of blue... from the US open or the Aussie open... it's not the same: old game new continents: a historical claustrophobia - me in my dead-end europe am dying from a frenzy of moths and books collecting dust: i am a continent exemplified by... hoarding... it's very painful to have to edit history... after a while the whole idea spirals out of control and: either things are over-exemplified or... relegated to: it's like they didn't exist at all... full-circle... europe is not a continent of museums: it is... a museum per se... even if i were to relegate Estonia to: that place where the northern elephant: the mammoth was feasted upon extinct... not so long ago... circa 10K years ago... i'd still have to mind... the Livonian order... or when Estonia was somehow part of the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth... boor: the eastern bloc - it's harsh to be "rudely" woken by foreign capitalistic wild west of the east circa the 1990s endeavours: plastics galore... the death of metallurgy in europe... oh yes... this is history... another example: newcastle united vs. newport county... the premier league vs. league 2... i am dying to hear of... a league 2 side with only female representation... not these arsenal leeches - fan-girl sport... which it is... but it doesn't matter: the crowds won't come because: better than a liverpool or a london derby in the premier league? a premier league side... playing a league 2 side! you can't beat the thrill of... the trials and trepidations of underdogs! it's a ******* rocky balboa type of classic! and i still prefer all the arnold schwarzenegger films to: there's are no adequate words to write to... sound like... an imitation of... a balboa pumpkin / prune mash-up face at the end of a movie... there isn't... how tennis allowed itself to create... a working environment where: both the men's tennis and the women's tennis is equally appealing... i... simply... don't know... for that matter: the olympics... stress free... freed from that base ******* of the Sussexes: constructive racism? what... like me going to Kenya and not finding ol' albino christmas anemic on billboard advertisement - i've reached a narrow base... to counter arguments... some **** just don't stick... it's enough to live among europeans: no! it has to be tinged with: we woz the majority 'ere... i guess: this is me ******* off to africa then... how about we whizz and woz and shvapz continentz? - i am tired of toying around with a greasy oyster: i have fat for brains: literally - alzheimer's is constructed by killer proteins - there are these minor wants in my language that have to go beyond: mere vocabulary - even if i'll assign a new word to my palette it will not be enough when someone starts choking the words i already have... i will pick up a physical book: fully scented, paper... and there will be no comment section - hard to write a comment on a piece of Dickens - why we wasted our time of Shakespeare - why is he the canon... and not Dickens: i will never know... mind you... i've reached a point in the Pickwick Papers were... there was a clarity of exhaustion: to beef up the volume size... to meet the demands of serialization... all the authenticity is fizzling out... Dickens calls a get together with either Shelley or Stevenson... or Wilde... roland garros is a tournament named after naming of a stadium: which was named after an aviator... azure sport clothes are a deepening focus staged against: Ayers' rock sunset orange of clay... from the feral lands of the middle-east: which is... north of anywhere that's Rhodes... i don't like being told: what words best punctuate my thinking - i'll pause on: black-beggar... or... schwarzenegger - a mighty surname: then i'll stutter more with sniggering like a Motley... mutt 'n' all... it's not like the russian would eventually give a ****... sorry... the soviets... it's hard to fiddle around with a people when... you have the prospects of living in Siberia... no one too keen on that hot bagel of a "transition period"... are theyz? stand me upright against a wall and shoot! if i didn't have my youth as bargain: i might be towing some xenophobic lineage of a conservationist's revision... that they would never treat a jihadi as a psychiatric mumble-jumble ol' Joe made a haystack worth of a crib... hell... i bet that if i decided to live in Kenya... chances are... on the beaches near Mombasa... i'd be treated like a ******* Ferrero Rocher! would i complain? living in Kenya? what?! no winter! no autumn! no spring! this perpetual semi-what-already-is... giggle of eternal summer?! how i did find the native kenyan girls... come night and moonlight... greased in acrylic tinges of quicksilver - how their ivory teased me... rapacious little i: impossible having found a beauty to admire beyond some geisha crumbling... ******* a lemon and still prancing... correct me if i'm wrong... let's racially... exfoliate... i might have a tan come... i might have green eyes: eyes of evil... of envious third-parties... i might be: fraction of legion... - revisions for ms. amber... and she is... that liquid ***** that once slightly smokey: when refined... came across a slurp of maple syrupe and became mrs. borrowed-burgundy... syrope syrup: something... rrrrrrrr'ipe... gluey - clearly i am using a language that is phonetically biased: one that write one way but speaks another: letter-eaters of the french and the english... less the english although: you'd have to see it first... to make a distinction if prompted by a sign in a newly ploughed field: please keep off of field... you seeing what i'm seeing? it's not lazy... it's doubly accurate... and this is among the essex landowner class... why bother? employing a direct article... there's already a spatial coordinate of a where: when: i'm reading it... i.e. passing the field... of(f) - **** of wits: otherwise: to ******* from a designated standing ordeal as mere ******... **** a black girl so that you feel her coccyx and you're left with a pretty plum patch of hue in your little scratch of eden - that ***** pouch above your: GRAND INQUISITOR PHA-LULLABY-LOOSE! yeah... that little itch... it's a real dodo-project this... and... with no real desire to pardon the soviets... coming from a former satellite state... no russians were ever truly involved: to my my knot of standing on a ledge of yawns... which is almost sad... which is almost this horrid friction of necessity that... by all means: to level the smart from the semi-auctioned to those perfectly serene and thereby sleeping... if i will: i'll boast of complaints that surround hightned efforts of: friction contra fiction...
one of those scenarios... in the cul de sac of pedantry - or there's another word for that... but given this is no... heated affair of: later: a conversation... i much appreciate a readership that focuses on anonymity... it's not like i can buy a book that might suddenly translate itself with an attache of a comment section... i'm not a real die hard fan of democracy - i don't see a need to usher in praises for something that claims i'm still illiterate: i have count stub: X - my voice is either a glitch... or a blister.