Nov 2021
10th of November 2021...
winter is nigh...
oh sure: there still remnants of autumn,
it's sickly sweet scent still hangs in
the air...
what a glorious day...
pristine weather, esp. for England...
& for that matter... cycling...
heavy drizzle...
not falling rain: just this...
"membrane"... orb of water in the air...
overcast, gloomy sky...
very much matched to my
melancholic disposition...
t-shirt soaked... shorts... soaked...
shoes... soaked...
it almost looked like i ****** & **** myself...
no matter... beard... wet... hair... wet...
somewhere near Fairlop Waters
peddling like a demon
i laughed & almost cried at the same time...
nothing new:
i could honestly imagine eternity
on a bicycle...
not in a car, not in a harem...
on a bicycle...
hardly taking up responsibilities
associated with Atlas...
but... i could see myself cycling to nowhere
forever... esp. in this glorious...
dreary weather...
just like i could imagine myself
perched vacantly on the windowsill...
with one leg folded & sitting on it...
the other dangling...
drinking, smoking & listening to music
that could best encapsulate the night...
e.g. the theme for gul'dan from
the film adaptation of Warcraft...
mein gott... i remember playing the original:
me & my cousin Martin copied the game
onto... 3"15 floppy disks?
3"15 floppy? is that correct?
Warcraft or Age of Empires II...
then Total War... Shogun & that second one
with the Viking expansion pack...
stopped at PS1...
recently rekindled by fascination with games...
purely for the... internet dynamic of:
real-life players playing real, life, players...
all those ******* robot, mech, team up...
capture beacons... sort of ****...
well... you can't exactly play chess on your own...
you can... but there's nothing fun about
that sort of a schizoid placebo...
it used to be War Robots...
that game slowed down once too many revisions
took place... & the whole game was sold...
unfair...
so i looked up... Mech Arena...
lucky for me that i don't gamble...
the most i ever gambled with was a borrowed quid
on the weekend matches...
5 results... ensuring both team score...
& the winning team... so looking for results like
3 - 1, 2 - 1... like the odds...
i never really read comic books...
x-men in the 1990s...
Declan Tan! ha ha... he bought me a classy
two part... Batman vs. Alien...
yeah... Declan Tan...
i remember eating a chicken soup at his house...
the kind cooked by Asians...
with sweetcorn...
murky... so no clarity in a chicken broth...
with the addition of...
garlic... charred onion, leek, celery,
celeriac... parsley root, parsley greens..
i hated how he was preferred by the tennis
coach in primary school...
even though i think i gave the teacher a better
match...
come to think of it... once i went
to university tennis became more a spectator
sport... squash was most fun...
tennis is too two dimensional...
obviously squash will not gain the same sort
of traction... no matter...
better for those who play it...
at this point: the world can go **** itself...
sorry... but it clearly can...
i've heard enough to know just about as little
as can be deemed too much...
oddly enough...
but such games when you're playing
real-life opponents...
i couldn't possibly go back to games
with narratives...
with NPC characters...
i'm too entrenched in literature...
i couldn't possibly rekindle a love for...
Final Fantasy VII...
i wonder... metal gear solid II?
was it II? i didn't get Final Fantasy VIII...
not one iota...
Tenchu?
revolutionised gaming... though:
nothing with a narrative...
something to test true skill...
that's fun... & the added bonus of facing...
Goliaths, Daniels & Nimrods...
that's the added bonus...
oh yeah... proper gamer...
on the throne of thrones... i.e. the *******...
pulling out a kasztan... a conker...
- would i consider myself as suffering
from alcoholism?
well... right down the passing of time...
this grandfather, that grandfather...
if you work in a metallurgical industry:
you're going to drink...
i must have inherited the excesses of
their drinking habits...
i don't think i suffer...
reality can become rather
vexing... bothersome... brutally boring...
some people arrive at this conclusion
& cause drama...
i just have to stomach it... grip it, grind it...
******* to the woods or to a graveyard
at night...
drink... subdue my otherwise choked eroticism:
fair enough:
people accommodate...
i have to nuance some things...
put them into a metaphor maiden &
say: ceci n'est pas une pipe,
ceci est une pipe fer...
no?
if i can pass life with all these little
intricacies of soap-opera soaking demands...
i can make my own language
more entertaining:
without coming close to a crossword puzzle...
truly... i can make my own language
more entertaining:
without coming close to even beginning
to solve a crossword puzzle...
any mind-game involving numbers:
bring it... crosswords...
****'s sake... something just a tier above
what the thesaurus / encyclopedia are for...
ugh... sober people bother me...
i'm bothered by sobriety...
i can focus on the "methodology" with the summary:
cool as a cucumber...
i can clearly understand the universality
of traffic prerogatives...
come to think of it:
only on the bicycle... entombed...
can i find the most universal questions...
racist? what, like Polacks driving their
new cars don't orientate themselves like
some, Asians?
that they do, they do,
careless Solipsists,
only they own the road...
*******... grrr...
czarna Madonna,
czarny anioł,
za każdym razem
ten sam dreszcz
(black madonna, black angel,
every single time
the same goosebumps)
- it truly doesn't matter what i write about...
it only matters how i write...
would there be an Adolf without
khaki?
or the SS-mann without his pristine
schwarze?
then again: i don't really write
about much...
i suffer with a glee...
if i were working in a metallurgy factory...
if i were coming home
to a woman speaking via her ****...
i sometimes find myself peering
into a mirror when no light is available...
the mirror in my soul...
or the mirror i'm focusing my sight into,
rather than at?
talking with my shadow:
thank god you're not a dog worthy of
a leash...
i couldn't possibly drink before a mirror...
how much i love drinking...
i love drinking so much
i ought to have been born a Norwegian
fisherman...
i guess i love drinking more than
i love *******...
i abhor crossword puzzles...
suppose i could write better...
something that might sell...
here... the year 2021...
who needs to sell this...
time echoes...
time yawns...
space in its own self-compensation
levers the otherwise crude demands...
for the perpetution
of what's to be perpetuated...
i don't need my genes to be furthered...
i'd be lost come the grand-grandchildren...
tigers replicate with identification pointers...
limbs, five fingers...
i call it a furry liver...
i call it a sweating liver...
i call it an empty stomach:
a readily available tongue...
winter is nigh...
oh sure: there still remnants of autumn,
it's sickly sweet scent still hangs in
the air...
what a glorious day...
pristine weather, esp. for England...
& for that matter... cycling...
heavy drizzle...
not falling rain: just this...
"membrane"... orb of water in the air...
overcast, gloomy sky...
very much matched to my
melancholic disposition...
t-shirt soaked... shorts... soaked...
shoes... soaked...
it almost looked like i ****** & **** myself...
no matter... beard... wet... hair... wet...
somewhere near Fairlop Waters
peddling like a demon
i laughed & almost cried at the same time...
nothing new:
i could honestly imagine eternity
on a bicycle...
not in a car, not in a harem...
on a bicycle...
hardly taking up responsibilities
associated with Atlas...
but... i could see myself cycling to nowhere
forever... esp. in this glorious...
dreary weather...
just like i could imagine myself
perched vacantly on the windowsill...
with one leg folded & sitting on it...
the other dangling...
drinking, smoking & listening to music
that could best encapsulate the night...
e.g. the theme for gul'dan from
the film adaptation of Warcraft...
mein gott... i remember playing the original:
me & my cousin Martin copied the game
onto... 3"15 floppy disks?
3"15 floppy? is that correct?
Warcraft or Age of Empires II...
then Total War... Shogun & that second one
with the Viking expansion pack...
stopped at PS1...
recently rekindled by fascination with games...
purely for the... internet dynamic of:
real-life players playing real, life, players...
all those ******* robot, mech, team up...
capture beacons... sort of ****...
well... you can't exactly play chess on your own...
you can... but there's nothing fun about
that sort of a schizoid placebo...
it used to be War Robots...
that game slowed down once too many revisions
took place... & the whole game was sold...
unfair...
so i looked up... Mech Arena...
lucky for me that i don't gamble...
the most i ever gambled with was a borrowed quid
on the weekend matches...
5 results... ensuring both team score...
& the winning team... so looking for results like
3 - 1, 2 - 1... like the odds...
i never really read comic books...
x-men in the 1990s...
Declan Tan! ha ha... he bought me a classy
two part... Batman vs. Alien...
yeah... Declan Tan...
i remember eating a chicken soup at his house...
the kind cooked by Asians...
with sweetcorn...
murky... so no clarity in a chicken broth...
with the addition of...
garlic... charred onion, leek, celery,
celeriac... parsley root, parsley greens..
i hated how he was preferred by the tennis
coach in primary school...
even though i think i gave the teacher a better
match...
come to think of it... once i went
to university tennis became more a spectator
sport... squash was most fun...
tennis is too two dimensional...
obviously squash will not gain the same sort
of traction... no matter...
better for those who play it...
at this point: the world can go **** itself...
sorry... but it clearly can...
i've heard enough to know just about as little
as can be deemed too much...
oddly enough...
but such games when you're playing
real-life opponents...
i couldn't possibly go back to games
with narratives...
with NPC characters...
i'm too entrenched in literature...
i couldn't possibly rekindle a love for...
Final Fantasy VII...
i wonder... metal gear solid II?
was it II? i didn't get Final Fantasy VIII...
not one iota...
Tenchu?
revolutionised gaming... though:
nothing with a narrative...
something to test true skill...
that's fun... & the added bonus of facing...
Goliaths, Daniels & Nimrods...
that's the added bonus...
oh yeah... proper gamer...
on the throne of thrones... i.e. the *******...
pulling out a kasztan... a conker...
- would i consider myself as suffering
from alcoholism?
well... right down the passing of time...
this grandfather, that grandfather...
if you work in a metallurgical industry:
you're going to drink...
i must have inherited the excesses of
their drinking habits...
i don't think i suffer...
reality can become rather
vexing... bothersome... brutally boring...
some people arrive at this conclusion
& cause drama...
i just have to stomach it... grip it, grind it...
******* to the woods or to a graveyard
at night...
drink... subdue my otherwise choked eroticism:
fair enough:
people accommodate...
i have to nuance some things...
put them into a metaphor maiden &
say: ceci n'est pas une pipe,
ceci est une pipe fer...
no?
if i can pass life with all these little
intricacies of soap-opera soaking demands...
i can make my own language
more entertaining:
without coming close to a crossword puzzle...
truly... i can make my own language
more entertaining:
without coming close to even beginning
to solve a crossword puzzle...
any mind-game involving numbers:
bring it... crosswords...
****'s sake... something just a tier above
what the thesaurus / encyclopedia are for...
ugh... sober people bother me...
i'm bothered by sobriety...
i can focus on the "methodology" with the summary:
cool as a cucumber...
i can clearly understand the universality
of traffic prerogatives...
come to think of it:
only on the bicycle... entombed...
can i find the most universal questions...
racist? what, like Polacks driving their
new cars don't orientate themselves like
some, Asians?
that they do, they do,
careless Solipsists,
only they own the road...
*******... grrr...
czarna Madonna,
czarny anioł,
za każdym razem
ten sam dreszcz
(black madonna, black angel,
every single time
the same goosebumps)
- it truly doesn't matter what i write about...
it only matters how i write...
would there be an Adolf without
khaki?
or the SS-mann without his pristine
schwarze?
then again: i don't really write
about much...
i suffer with a glee...
if i were working in a metallurgy factory...
if i were coming home
to a woman speaking via her ****...
i sometimes find myself peering
into a mirror when no light is available...
the mirror in my soul...
or the mirror i'm focusing my sight into,
rather than at?
talking with my shadow:
thank god you're not a dog worthy of
a leash...
i couldn't possibly drink before a mirror...
how much i love drinking...
i love drinking so much
i ought to have been born a Norwegian
fisherman...
i guess i love drinking more than
i love *******...
i abhor crossword puzzles...
suppose i could write better...
something that might sell...
here... the year 2021...
who needs to sell this...
time echoes...
time yawns...
space in its own self-compensation
levers the otherwise crude demands...
for the perpetution
of what's to be perpetuated...
i don't need my genes to be furthered...
i'd be lost come the grand-grandchildren...
tigers replicate with identification pointers...
limbs, five fingers...
i call it a furry liver...
i call it a sweating liver...
i call it an empty stomach:
a readily available tongue...
