Oct 2021
the perks of living with someone you care about...
as it stands...
where else would i live with my private library?
would i really need to rent a whole place all
for myself: have indoor plants for company
and give up shared "custody" of two maine *****?
in order for what?
bring some girl back on a Friday evening or
a Saturday night?
sure... it's not perfect...
but in eastern cultures: multi-generational
living arrangements are a norm...
at the end of her life:
my great-grandmother lived with her daughter
and her son-in-law...
a true stoic... she would pray for the pain
to go away rather than sometimes take painkillers...
she never drank coffee...
nor smoked... nor drank alcohol...
even she said that she ought to have been a nun...
hey presto: two generations later: et moi...
perhaps eastern cultures really do begin
in Europe where the Ottomans and the Mongols
did a knock-knock: who's there line of jokes...
perhaps England was: or even is:
too insulated from the outside world:
the turmoil of the continent...
hell... what's that quote from the famous poet-librarian?
this be the verse:
your parents ******* up...
sure... it's not perfect...
i had to be an opportunist when it came to ***
outside of going to the brothel...
one Thai surprise done in the garden...
the house was empty though:
but still...
thank god i can tame my libido and ask it to come
out when... oddly enough:
last time a 5 year period of abstinence ended
when i was grooming the female of the two maine *****...
the way she raised her backside:
i had to find an outlet...
otherwise i'd be thinking about: goat-******* or something...
anyway... of course they'r not perfect people:
but i'm no angel either...
it's beside the point: but at least i don't have
to think about forking out on payment for an old people's home...
like today: my father gets a cold...
takes the usual medication to combat the cold
but i also make him an archaic medicine
that consists of:
a raw egg yolk beaten to a state of 'kogiel-mogiel'
with some aspen honey...
this is subsequently drenched in 50g of butter melted
in heated up milk...
apparently it works miracles:
some would say that a prime symptom of a cold
is the excess build up of phlegm...
he'll sweat it out... cough it up...
writing this in English seems rather absurd...
the individual... the individual...
i still feel a stigma associated with this sort of a living
arrangement...
but i see one Nigerian household next to mine...
another Sikh household: two siblings in each...
across the street an English household still houses
one of their daughters...
but they'll be moving across the street two doors down...
why was there ever this stigma of having
parents? esp. as the west is known for being
this solace of the solipsistic singletons?
"solipsistic": which is halfway autistic...
it's just a nicer term...
i care that i can care:
i can write my little doodles while also playing the fiddle
of: if there is any medieval movie adaptation:
**** the knight: i'm the inn-keeper...
i'll take care of the household and i'll do the cooking:
thank you, very much...
there is no culinary tradition running in my veins...
my grandmother always managed to roast
the chicken to the point where it almost felt
like eating chalk...
so no... no great: tradition in terms of culinary lineage...
i'v already settled my score when it comes
to eating curry... except for breakfast:
i could eat that **** all day...
but lucky for some: to have been born in a geographic
region as rich as it is with: RIDDLED with spices!
too bad when it comes to baking bread...
well... with the exception of the na'an bread:
but i'm pretty sure the Europeans must have introduced
the concept of using yeast for dough to rise...
what was prior? oh... right...
the Peruvian... Aztec-esque japati flat-bread...
nothing exactly fancy akin to a French croissant...
qwa-sont... yeah... looks pretty ugly when stressed
phonetically...
also: phonetically...
voy-yack... v'oh-yack...woe-jack?! seriously
well it's not exactly a ckwa-sont... is it?
psychiatry and the art of implanting false
memories: otherwise known as regression...
even in the Freudian schematic:
rich girls having dreams...
look at me... i rarely dream...
i sit at this well of an imposing void:
which harvests a vastness of sigma:
the totality that's also equate to animation
of the body and...
therapy doesn't solve much...
"talking about it": doesn't help if you're reading Kant...
what will talking do...
if thinking about it does much less
when not thinking about it does much
more?
what was once the Cartesian res cogitans
model... with doubt...
has now become my own version..
the res vanus (the empty thing)
with doubt being replaced by negation:
perhaps in bad faith... but with good intentions...
as the saying goes:
the way towards hell is paved with good
intentions...
it's also paved with a sadness
that's stimulating... i leech off of my sadness...
every time i'm close to tears
i'm usually attested to by a croaking of a crow...
i find more empathy for animals than
i do for fellow human beings...
because i understand that they understand:
how dumb they actually are...
hell: i understand that they don't understand
what dumbness even is: to begin with!
but when it comes to me
in reverse "courtesy": of when it comes to minding
traffic: being part of traffic...
i find certain traits in humans...
simply... unforgiveable...
pretending to be ghost when stepping
into a designated bicycle lane...
driving a VW Golf thinking it's a ******* tank:
stalking drivers that act al timid when
attempting to pass you by...
it will always come down to this sort
of scrutiny...
it's not as banal as when the whole world
laughed when the Polacks charged against
Third ***** Panzers on horseback:
but it's relatively close...
i speak a western language: it is infused with me:
i'm not a westerner...
i have historical tattoos...
i mind the hour...
perhaps it's true what a Norwegian writer
wrote about the Swedes...
perhaps these people haven't been invaded
for a long time... that they end up:
procrastinating their lives...
fair-play if they invent games with that time: given....
but perhaps they haven't been invaded in
a long while... rancid loitering...
procrastinating...
they weren't given the dialectical break-a-bone
sort of treatment...
of a people who decided to speak about
orthography: without employing
a single diacritical marker of distinction...
you begin to wonder...
is it really "orthography" and not merely a spelling
mistake if you: take out one of the ELs
from speling?
obviously aesthetically dis-pleasurable...
but... wrong?
last time i heard: Japanese living arrangements
were no up to "shape":
with couples booking hotel dates pretending
the rooms to be brothel lingering abodes...
as the standard of living has gone up...
so has our expectation to live it: likewise...
there... a road for concession...
why do i drink?
mein gott... being sober is such
bad weather...
such a timid "conversation"...
nothing is ever metaphor or misnomer
worthy: everything simply
alligns with the cogs in the "machinery":
there's all the deus ex machina
but none of the **** in machina!
stating... bluntly that life is ****
isn't cutting it!
obviously... odiously... it's like there's a b'aaah...
bad smell around the carcass....
after a while even fat
starts to be tinged with whiffs
of acidity... did you know that?
as it stands...
where else would i live with my private library?
would i really need to rent a whole place all
for myself: have indoor plants for company
and give up shared "custody" of two maine *****?
in order for what?
bring some girl back on a Friday evening or
a Saturday night?
sure... it's not perfect...
but in eastern cultures: multi-generational
living arrangements are a norm...
at the end of her life:
my great-grandmother lived with her daughter
and her son-in-law...
a true stoic... she would pray for the pain
to go away rather than sometimes take painkillers...
she never drank coffee...
nor smoked... nor drank alcohol...
even she said that she ought to have been a nun...
hey presto: two generations later: et moi...
perhaps eastern cultures really do begin
in Europe where the Ottomans and the Mongols
did a knock-knock: who's there line of jokes...
perhaps England was: or even is:
too insulated from the outside world:
the turmoil of the continent...
hell... what's that quote from the famous poet-librarian?
this be the verse:
your parents ******* up...
sure... it's not perfect...
i had to be an opportunist when it came to ***
outside of going to the brothel...
one Thai surprise done in the garden...
the house was empty though:
but still...
thank god i can tame my libido and ask it to come
out when... oddly enough:
last time a 5 year period of abstinence ended
when i was grooming the female of the two maine *****...
the way she raised her backside:
i had to find an outlet...
otherwise i'd be thinking about: goat-******* or something...
anyway... of course they'r not perfect people:
but i'm no angel either...
it's beside the point: but at least i don't have
to think about forking out on payment for an old people's home...
like today: my father gets a cold...
takes the usual medication to combat the cold
but i also make him an archaic medicine
that consists of:
a raw egg yolk beaten to a state of 'kogiel-mogiel'
with some aspen honey...
this is subsequently drenched in 50g of butter melted
in heated up milk...
apparently it works miracles:
some would say that a prime symptom of a cold
is the excess build up of phlegm...
he'll sweat it out... cough it up...
writing this in English seems rather absurd...
the individual... the individual...
i still feel a stigma associated with this sort of a living
arrangement...
but i see one Nigerian household next to mine...
another Sikh household: two siblings in each...
across the street an English household still houses
one of their daughters...
but they'll be moving across the street two doors down...
why was there ever this stigma of having
parents? esp. as the west is known for being
this solace of the solipsistic singletons?
"solipsistic": which is halfway autistic...
it's just a nicer term...
i care that i can care:
i can write my little doodles while also playing the fiddle
of: if there is any medieval movie adaptation:
**** the knight: i'm the inn-keeper...
i'll take care of the household and i'll do the cooking:
thank you, very much...
there is no culinary tradition running in my veins...
my grandmother always managed to roast
the chicken to the point where it almost felt
like eating chalk...
so no... no great: tradition in terms of culinary lineage...
i'v already settled my score when it comes
to eating curry... except for breakfast:
i could eat that **** all day...
but lucky for some: to have been born in a geographic
region as rich as it is with: RIDDLED with spices!
too bad when it comes to baking bread...
well... with the exception of the na'an bread:
but i'm pretty sure the Europeans must have introduced
the concept of using yeast for dough to rise...
what was prior? oh... right...
the Peruvian... Aztec-esque japati flat-bread...
nothing exactly fancy akin to a French croissant...
qwa-sont... yeah... looks pretty ugly when stressed
phonetically...
also: phonetically...
voy-yack... v'oh-yack...woe-jack?! seriously
well it's not exactly a ckwa-sont... is it?
psychiatry and the art of implanting false
memories: otherwise known as regression...
even in the Freudian schematic:
rich girls having dreams...
look at me... i rarely dream...
i sit at this well of an imposing void:
which harvests a vastness of sigma:
the totality that's also equate to animation
of the body and...
therapy doesn't solve much...
"talking about it": doesn't help if you're reading Kant...
what will talking do...
if thinking about it does much less
when not thinking about it does much
more?
what was once the Cartesian res cogitans
model... with doubt...
has now become my own version..
the res vanus (the empty thing)
with doubt being replaced by negation:
perhaps in bad faith... but with good intentions...
as the saying goes:
the way towards hell is paved with good
intentions...
it's also paved with a sadness
that's stimulating... i leech off of my sadness...
every time i'm close to tears
i'm usually attested to by a croaking of a crow...
i find more empathy for animals than
i do for fellow human beings...
because i understand that they understand:
how dumb they actually are...
hell: i understand that they don't understand
what dumbness even is: to begin with!
but when it comes to me
in reverse "courtesy": of when it comes to minding
traffic: being part of traffic...
i find certain traits in humans...
simply... unforgiveable...
pretending to be ghost when stepping
into a designated bicycle lane...
driving a VW Golf thinking it's a ******* tank:
stalking drivers that act al timid when
attempting to pass you by...
it will always come down to this sort
of scrutiny...
it's not as banal as when the whole world
laughed when the Polacks charged against
Third ***** Panzers on horseback:
but it's relatively close...
i speak a western language: it is infused with me:
i'm not a westerner...
i have historical tattoos...
i mind the hour...
perhaps it's true what a Norwegian writer
wrote about the Swedes...
perhaps these people haven't been invaded
for a long time... that they end up:
procrastinating their lives...
fair-play if they invent games with that time: given....
but perhaps they haven't been invaded in
a long while... rancid loitering...
procrastinating...
they weren't given the dialectical break-a-bone
sort of treatment...
of a people who decided to speak about
orthography: without employing
a single diacritical marker of distinction...
you begin to wonder...
is it really "orthography" and not merely a spelling
mistake if you: take out one of the ELs
from speling?
obviously aesthetically dis-pleasurable...
but... wrong?
last time i heard: Japanese living arrangements
were no up to "shape":
with couples booking hotel dates pretending
the rooms to be brothel lingering abodes...
as the standard of living has gone up...
so has our expectation to live it: likewise...
there... a road for concession...
why do i drink?
mein gott... being sober is such
bad weather...
such a timid "conversation"...
nothing is ever metaphor or misnomer
worthy: everything simply
alligns with the cogs in the "machinery":
there's all the deus ex machina
but none of the **** in machina!
stating... bluntly that life is ****
isn't cutting it!
obviously... odiously... it's like there's a b'aaah...
bad smell around the carcass....
after a while even fat
starts to be tinged with whiffs
of acidity... did you know that?
