i couldn't learn Russ even if i wanted to... not because i can't speak favourably of the people: a most hospitable folk... although: as a ****** in Moscow... dating a Russian girl... things had to be on a: hush-hush... i had to "pretend" to be English... which wasn't hard since... i have a generic accent: if an accent at that... only in Essex could it be know: by an inquisitive 14 year old girl... in the middle of the night having left a ****** party looking for a friend... instead finding me first... walking out of the darkness of a park to inquire: where, was, i.... from? we sat near a roundabout... i rolled her a cigarette... a black cat came towards me... picked it up, stroked it... blah blah... all of a sudden i was a warlock while the girl did runners... to and fro... 50 metres ahead... 50 metres back... like she was trying to shake me off but couldn't: since i promised her that we would find her friend... which we did... lying face-down at a bus stop... i took off my hoodie attired the poor shivering thing and... we walked to a designated pick-up spot so one of the girl's father could pick them up... which he did... of course... we had to take a group selfie before all of that... - a strange hallucination: i sometimes feel i have a spider crawling around behind my right ear... petty architect of... beside the cobweb... for a 14 year old: i'm stabbing in the dark she might have been older... it's not like i didn't think about her *******, which were: of course... pronounced while i rolled the tobacco and asked: my spit... or yours? so i gave her the roll-up so she could lick it herself... the things that happen in the night: it's no wonder i find the formalities of day so... pedestrian... oh but you can get away with being English in Russian... they love these people over there... not so much the Polacks... - again... to reiterate... i would never learn that language: perhaps i'm just fonder of the Greek writing script than i am of the Cyrillic... (no... that sensation of a spider behind my right ear was not a hallucination... a happy home is a home filled with spiders... some... ancient proverb or... something... caught the little ****** crawling on my arm... dangled him on his string and placed him on the windowsill)... - i really have bigger things to worry about than a discrepancy in Cyrillic that i simply can't ignore: it has been burning in my mind since yesterday... - ******... oh sure i'll complain... the cat thinks he can own the night and prowl and prance all he likes: that's the problem with cats... they teach you the unattainable bewilderment of: they have free will: while you too, have, free will... but it's only illusionary... or worse... it's more than an illusion... it's a bad... b'ah b'ahah joke... a little h.m.v. (his master's voice) moment in the calmness of the night: quorus! quorus! quo... where is russian? i can't take credit for the name... the breeders conjured it up... i would be more inclined to: qua-rus... i.e. as being: russian... maine ****... ginger... it could have worked... so i'm writing this to calm myself... could this 10kg little Colossus take on a fox? well... he is a house-pet... not a wild animal... its legs are more flexible... it too can bite... but... little pockets of anxiety and the debacle of... KBAC... i.e. KVAS... a popular drink in Russia... sort of: a better version of root-beer... malty... & sweet... carbonated... perfect for eating fast-food pancakes... with... orange caviar... - i sometimes walk through the garden and a single cobweb thread covers my eyes... i must be dreaming when awake: sometimes... eh... most of the time since i'm so dream-starved... Freud couldn't make a shilling out of me: what is there to interpret when all you dream about it a great big... black yawn of a void?! i guess this brings me to the schematic:
north północ Ц
east west wschód zachód Ш Щ
south południe Ч
a "lesson" in etymology: shrapnel... pół: half... noc: night... i.e. half is night... i'm guessing: of the year... but why isn't south: half is day? po: after... -łu- is sharpnel... dnie: days... dzień: day... it's still one and the same however much the word morphed... half-day for south half-night for north... wschód (rise... an all-encompassing reference to: sunrise) - east... likewise with: west: sunset: zachód... etymologically? eh... chłód: a coldness... an eerie coldness... zombie-esque...
hell... i didn't sit down to write this... i came for the Cyrillic letters that bother me... i.e. why isn't Ц: Ч and vice versa - why ins't Ч: Ц? when... Ц looks like... the better half of: Щ?
i mean: it seem logical, or phonetically authentic that half of Щ Ц would encapsulate half of the sound most associated with my Slavic terms: szczeka: (it) barks... szczerość: honesty... oh i can hide the "confusing" Z and bring out the English H... one surd for another... SHCH: sharp is szkic... cheap as: czerń... i could go one step further and employ Czech orthography: style... the aesthetic of writing: encoding sounds... and hide both the Z and the H in a caron: a crown hovering above the letters C & S... but then... it would appear congested with a word like honesty:
ščerość... no? too much baggage: from on high... but it's not like the English language has any concerns for this... even Charles Dickens dared to summon the term: orthography to a sound encoding "system" that didn't employ... summon... any diacritical distinctions... one ought to be intuitive about the excesses of: tatters... one ought to remember THat: THought...
it doesn't matter: i'm asking the Russians... if half of Щ (šč) is Ц... it looks that way! then why doesn't Ц denote: č-chequers?!
hell... have your: Ш... i'll be... haha... "brave" and say... it deserves to almost resemble a crown hovering above a serpent... š... how a Y (igrek) might behave if asked to be treated for geometric purposes! instead of crafting rivers!
i'm not "confused": i'm just *******! Ц ought to denote entombed in Ч and... vice versa... at worst! Ц is one ******* half of Щ!
- and what is Ч: the western slavic C: it's not an aesthetic substitute for either K or S (there's no... cedilla attached, last time i checked...) or for that matter... Q... CKQ... no? i clearly don't quiet, belong among these people: with their mundaneness practiced so well: they dream! oh god they dream! i'm the one dream-starved while they dream-out their little-by-little: belittling fetishes of power-gambling the toppling of peaceful hierarchies...
i'm the antithesis of the celebrated Barbarians of the American counter-revolution... sure... i'm banging at the gates... screaming: let me out! let me out! i don't want to be in this custard mess when it truly: properly... falls to ****! i'll leave with my feet stinking from sweat... even though i wouldn't have ran a mile! let me out! let me out! for man's ruin and for anything even remotely god-as-man... give me air! give me cognitive air! i can't breathe: let alone think!
- i'm growing tired... more and more tired... of plotting: nicety... along the vein of thought of the English... i'm just more and more salt grain from teasing at the wound of: perhaps i'm here as a pet project: for "my" people... to get the feelings associated when the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was carved upon... or a lesson in how the Roman Empire imploded... so too.. how Britain buckled... how Britain buckled... fell on its drunken-face wishing it was: "somehow"... Victorian: sensible... sober... augur-prone... well... it's too late for all of "that"...
it's happening: and i don't have a stop button: quick & easy to solve the problem... i like to drink gin as a solo project: on the ice... the fascist in me: is always the fascist in everyone, anyone... i'm digging trenches with my writing: conjure up a better imagery: i bet you won't... but am i... "somehow"... this... easy... "walkover"... prized asset of cuck? sure... the women are rampant... i don't mind... i'd rather **** a ***** than a nun any other day than... today...
we're having a debate about how russians have encoded: poorly... well... confusingly... it just doesn't make sense... what i already stated... i'm no longer looking towards America... it's a dead... a dead & wasted land... it's a predictable land... it's a horrid little: my why we never might: reach it... culture-wise... some... "oops": didn't jazz die so soon? i thought so too... i'm looking for the peacock feathers atop the armour of the Teutonic Knights... the failures of the 3rd Crusade... broken pride... escapade to an "elsewhere", no?
sorrow, me... how i'm tattooed with history... i can only imagine the fate of the modern... western... secular... man... freed from both history and religion... i almost admire him... i admire him: in that i speak his tongue... i admire him... but then i see his bewilderment... and i think to myself... "my" people: being so reclusive probably have it right... we have no colonial heritage to... we didn't have the expediency of the sea before us... why do i... or my brethren get to luggage... these jumbo-afro queries?! i once had a key-chain that read: the only way to tell someone to *******: is to... tell them to *******: in such a way... as they might be... awaiting the: ******* transit... so they might await the trip... women sold us... women sold us into this *******... i kid you not...
i will not sell my heritage upon a post-colonial bend-over past... i'll sooner side with the Russians as i insult them! i'll grind my teeth on stone and spit out a *******: well-rounded pebble than side with these... fakeries of freedom! give me freedom! give me the supposed bread! the songs! the... what's it called? diabetes?! fat *****...
i'm one with the Kabul patrol... i'm mad enough to try not being gesticulated at: as being fake... like i might cry that this canvas is not made available to me... ergo... you're going to turn off my water-supply... my electricity-supply? you're going to cancel my... like i want to care about a dying culture where only the bogusly: blatant rich are... left?!
such weakness in a dying kind.... i cannot not... drawn parallels within the confines of the Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth... i can't! jeg kan ikke!
if "their" history breathes through them! så gør mínë... all is "European": ******* cotton-muffin... afro riddled... tarts... ****-boy-ohs... ha!
who's not... Caesar?! bread wins the: paint?! what's more cooking than what's more... *******... drying?! oh sure... my shoelaces definitely stink of bacon... but... n'ah... n'ah... you're on your own with that pseudo-king-Solomon.. sort of crap... me... kind Davie... surah riddled... psalm bashing... sort of "crap"... i need a woman like... i a need an anecdote... oh god... so 'ere one comes.... no... it's not funny... how.. unexpected... the opposite *** tends to... behave... without having.... white boy... insurance policies... oh... wow! *******... *******. now the bread winner: brown- boyo... better be... the... bread--- basher!... ah... ha... ha... his alias: also: no.