truly... there's nothing quiet like September & October in England... the most glorious months... splendour seems to seep into the air... into the sunlight... it's that time of the year when i start making my own wine & if i might be lucky... Jack Daniels will be discounted to £20 from £35 at the supermarket... it's splendid because my muse returns... i am hurrying around in my mind with letters jumbled up... nothing compares to the months September & October in England... famous as they are... dubbed... the Indian Summer... autumn is so consolidating... i itch with hope for snow... frost... and the eternal night.

oh sure... perhaps those unicorns do really exist...
but a jinx is in my lineage...
all the men in my family would fit
the socratic maxim:
sure... if you find a good wife... you'll be
content with life... but if you find a horrible
woman: a Medusa... you'll become
a philosopher...
i can go through the list...
my now estranged uncle: brother of my
mother... a ****-boy bachelor...
cousins... divorced...
son of my godmother... divorced....
had to battle for custody of his son...
only won because his ex-wife started
to drink heavily...
the wedding was fun... i got so drunk
on Śliwowica (slivovitz) that i almost started singing...
my father's father: divorced... remarried twice(?)
my mother's father: my grandmother...
as much as i'm supposed to like her...
well... let's just say...
she would scold him with words...
sure... he was a heavy drinker...
but worked his *** off in the metallurgy industry
when it was still alive in Poland under
the discretion of the Soviets...
it's painful though...
   i saw him about 3 months before his death...
in that 3 months he was going to die...
dementia complications... blah blah...
i think he just gave up...
he couldn't stomach living with this woman...
i hear Italians and Greeks speak fondly
of their grandmothers...
me? i wish i could... i could once...
but she kept his final days a secret...
with my now estranged uncle...
a week or so before his death he insinuated
that we must have "perspectives":
to look... "perspective-ly"...
i would have ****** off to his deathbed in a second...
i didn't lose a grandfather: i lost a friend...
the hours we spent talking on the balcony...
music life in the graveyard...
our trips to Warsaw & Cracow in the summers
when i was still in school... cycling together...
fishing... his memory of me climbing
trees in the forest while walking Bella...
an Alsatian and Axel the dobberman...
but his death was kept a secret known only until
he was on his last in a hospice...
his death was kept a secret...
   it's not like we didn't call and inquired:
oh no no... everything's fine...
i don't buy the excuse that... to save us the pain
we didn't have to witness his death...
he actually thought of himself as a patriarch...
what's horrible is that he probably
had that gnat of a woman standing over him
as he died applauding his death...
pulsating with venom!
i only have one comfort...
that he managed to read a snippet of Karl Ove
Knausgaard's Autumn...
a snippet about eating apples...
how Karl would teach his children to eat
the whole apple... even the core...
a metaphor for life...
that you'd eat the sweetness first...
but then arrive at... ahem... the complicated bit
of the apple... the bitterness of the seeds...
i only have this comforting story to tell myself...
that he was armed with this metaphor of life...
in his dementia labyrinth of memory:
thank god he saw what i saw:
memory... the most pristine cinema...
after all... movies are boring these days...
- my father: also no luck...
sure... he's still married... but i'm also nearby to
smooth things other... even he complains...
sometimes half jokingly... sometimes seriously...
so i do the cooking and look after
the house...
the garden... making the wine...
but then... he was abandoned by his mother
& father & raised by his grandmother
& her second husband...
thankfully i can channel my drinking habits into
something creative...
however mundane i find it to be...
but i'm sure of it...
there's a jinx in my lineage...
some ancestor of mine must have done something
horrid to some woman that:
the matter will only resolve itself
by me... ending the lineage...
           well... i hope these words can at least
survive for a 100 years after i'm: corpus ******* "christi"...
eh... if Marquis de Sade was bad
at desecrating a crucifix for an imitation
of a ***** with a *******: getting jailed for that
sort of antic... i desecrated the blood of Christ
once by ******* into a glass of wine
and drinking it...
my own... so what?! if i were in a desert
wouldn't i drink my own **** to survive?!
i still have a little glimmer of... i wouldn't call it hope:
i'd call it... fancy...
that the "juice is worth the squeeze"...
all my luck with women was only ever
associated with prostitutes...
i remember paying for ***...
but i don't remember paying for lies and niceties...
if a ******* tells me i'm smart...
that i look like Bradley Cooper...
i'm buy that... even thought our transaction
was about claiming something else
intimacy...
or that i am a good man...
i much prefer the quote from Dostoyevsky...
the eternal evil that only wishes to will good...
sometimes i miss the mark...
sometimes i'm spot on...
i hear a whisper in the wind:
you selfish man...
  i'd prefer the word obnoxious...
        i don't mind the odd auditory hallucination
from time to time: it's comforting to know
that i'm not truly alone...
egoistic... i can't be...
if i entertain what i'd call the antithesis of
Heidegger's dasein... what a funky little compound:
da: there... sein: being...
there's being... over there... yonder...
        i'm suggesting something more akin to:
presence... with the german words...
jetzt: now... and hier: here...
perhaps i ought to compound one or the other
or both with sein, too...
        again... reiteration... from the time of Ancient
Greece... there's no guarantee with women...
which is sad... i fell in love with the idea
of woman from the time i read Stendhal's
the Red & the Black in my teens...
i actually saw the movie adaptation starring
Ewan McGregor & Ra-kh--kh-el Weisz
  (is it... Raych-el?) first...
                    probably the only movie adaptation
that made me want to read the book...
n'ah... that's a lie...
Dr. Zhivago is on the list...
             as is the Sienkiewicz trilogy...
there's no ******* chance in hell that i'll listen
to those people who cry: you'll die alone!
well sure... and when i do... i hope it's as Caesar wished:
suddenly!
oddly enough... he died suddenly...
stabbed as he was...
        but for some reason i'll have to
battle with myself over whether i employ dignifying
tactics or go full out Nero / samurai...
when all life will lose its meaning...
when i'll give up scribbling these little doodles of
anti-rhyme...
but not today... i have that wine of my own
labour to look forward to... in a week or two;
and as much medieval music as i like!
it's autumn, it's England!
there's no better time to be alive!
i don't own a car... i own a bicycle!
                i'm content in my melancholy...
i have focus... i have curiosity...
to hell with any worldly ambition!