you have caught up to my drift, dear unicorn... i've been elsewhere the past few days... perhaps i drank too much... perhaps... but then cycling into central London feels surreal every time things fall off from the everyday in the vicinity of Bow, Stratford and Mile End... and i enter... tourist brick-on-bricks... it's surreal that... once upon a time the whole affair of taking a bus, the tube... while cycling to those desired destinations is... well... surreal... you can't even begin to fathom how much i appreciate this little dialectical corner we have started... for ourselves... how little we know of each other yet still pursue... you know... i wanted to write something before i wrote my little tirade... oral traditions... passing on the tongue... i was going to suggest: not everyone can be a Julien Sorel... or... hafiz... my scatter brain also suggested noting a need to denounce onomatopoeia: should we even allow encoding a woof or a meow... unless it's a noun denotation of... what a dog / cat does when prescribing us with seeking attention? a wolf doesn't woof woof: it howls... a lion doesn't meow... i could "understand" barking... then again: what's not to understand? true: i have those drowning thoughts... none of them are concerns for moral ought-i-have(?) though... then again... being impregnated with a gravity that allows me to stand: firm-rooted... and still persist in falling...if we only have sounds: touch wood... who's: one of those knock-knock: who's there, lineage of joke-chokes... i figured... no one remembers how certain places give off this particular whiff... this "accent"... like Barkingside still has a whiff of old Jewish ladies... Ilford is lost from having any Hebrew influence... the Jewish flight is in plain sight... how the synagogue on Coventry St. was dismantled... yet here i am: still... cycling through little Bengal...i hope i'm not too imposing giving both of us coordinates that we are engaged in a dialectic... cult-convincing fabric: how crude mere sounds... ą: is? you said you love sounds... what's ą? i'll be surprised whether your defence of sounds allows you to make this phonetic encoding resound... it's somewhere lodged between a: moan & an oh...Ą... in defence of sounds... so when written? not much... to look at? almost cubist takes on the aesthetic of spelling... no? hell... that's not even cubist... it's dada... do people still read newspapers? i was going to stash this reply until tomorrow having reread it sober... but then again i like taking the most *******-whipping sort of chances out of good-luck-stupidity because: tomorrow i'll be... like i am today come 12am: sooner dead than living in my prime... of course i love your poem... the superiority of sounds... i am a most probably a male and as a stereotypical male i find closure in using my eyes to their fulll potential... your sounds look b'ah b'ah as words... you can't exactly call them aesthetically appealing? perhaps if they were written in braille... or in katakana... let's see.. well... i can't conjoin two consonants together... there's this XOXO rule in speaking ***., while only N is allowed free-reign and an almost unique status... バ (ba): but here's laughter, i suppose laughter is ha, ha... ha ha, ha (ハ)... you tell me sounds are superior: i abhor rap... how freely sounds trickle forth from the fountain of rap... nonsense at the end of the spectrum of: the sound a door performs when not propaerly oiled: creaking... but i'm too much of a visual creature... i like to see what will prompt me: almost like a thespian... how else, would you ever convene to come together with all resourcefulness, in being so convincing... without an otherwise worth of: predictable script? i like seeing what i'll say... are sounds superior because... they are? undecipherable? close  approximates... there is not infinity of sounds that can't be congested into an encoding... to allow a free-roaming of the cinema of memory to take fold... to be allowed...  ha is a definite article in hebrew: so... depicting laughter in hebrew is like writing: thethethethe... point? the spaniards have it just as bad: jajaja... a pronoun to some: a yes to others... laughter is hardly a mere sound... it's a ****** expression to boot... no?  you know why you're so adamantly in my focus? after this coleslaw of verbiage... i've just spewed... you will return without much: "concern"... after all... you won't be reading a spew... a ****-piece of... tabloid opinion-pressuring... this is a self-critical scoop of observation, though: i know i can write *******-riddled amnesiac squat too... oh look... it TAP... became... TAN... タン... we'd be in on pinched mongol *****... ******* parties and white women ***** guilt reprise... no? gloat as i might: i've heard that... come the 2nd / 3rd generation of interracial breeding? the original "sin" is diluted... that i am drunk and writing this... but... best this tired, old soak... of... ripe... raw. onion... it's not like the Russians would mind... mind you: i once dated a Russian girl who... swear to god... thought it was of being a lesser social class if one donned a suntan... you were a serf for having a suntan... that's the whole lot of 'er... to have this onion turn copper turn auburn... no... suntans were not aligned with her thinking of being of the tsarist Russia.... she also adored petting spiders... and serpents... i was more into... foxes... deer... cats....herding heaps of dung: because: there's no better whiff of air than the scent of a refreshing attire of horseshit, in the morning... now... i've written this much... your "superiority" of sounds still stands... but.. on what? write me smash smash... write me Ao (/) アオ blue... sky then 空 (ソラ).... how feeble sounds are... when staged in the theatre of lettering...  you know how pointless a mandarin sounds? as pointless as... until... the point of revealing his phonetic encoding technique... a sound is a sound is perhaps an echo... i'll end there: i don't need to **** further.