really? the 502 bad gateway pass is this, this low?
title: itchy
body: fun bit(s).... well no wonder H'america
is becoming a... *******!

for once in my life: i don't feel like writing,
mein gott: it has been for almost forever since
i felt like this...
i know that i can't love like a teenage boy,
i know that i can't love like a older boy in his
20s... for a while now i've been surprised
when women in the supermarket or in the street
tell their children: mind the man... the MAN...
wow... well... isn't that a shocker...
i'm a man all of a sudden... "all of a sudden"...
all it took was fitting the proper frame
and growing a beard: it would seem...
i remember this one Egyptian fwend in high-school
boasting that he had ****** hair at the age of
16 while i had ***-fluff...
he would scrape his stubble against a piece
of paper with what i supposed to be a hard-on
he'd later have to relieve in the bathroom
when one girl would lift up her skirt and expose
a little bit too much thigh...
then again... he also boasted about getting wet
dreams... don't know... i was ******* from
the age of 8...
but i seriously don't feel it in me to write...
i just want to talk to Jemma...
for once, in a long while... today's the 10th...
the 14th of February...
i'm actually thinking about dropping her a Valentine's
card... and... no... no roses...
i was thinking of yellow tulips,
then i looked into the whole affair... a potted plant...
bit like looking into the "logic" astrology...
or the zodiac... what's the meaning of
giving someone an orchid?
   ****... there are different meanings behind
what colour the orchid is?
white... no... yellow, no... red... now...
    blue... a blue orchid... left in the middle
of the night merging the 13th with the 14th of
February, so she wakes up and leaves the house
and... hey presto! there's an orchid outside
of her front door...
as much as i boast of having a heart of stone...
i'm ******* mush...
yeah... she's a single mum... she has a psychotic
disorder... she apparently beat her previous
             paartner... circa 20 years her junior...
so she's a mad, cougar...
but she's one of those dark ginger types...
petite...
             and when it comes to love... beggars can't
be choosers...
**** me... the butterflies are back...
just merely thinking about her...
i was supposed to meet her today... we rescheduled
for tomorrow... i'm so eager to give her
a bottle of my homemade wine...
and a self-baked banana loaf with walnuts...
i messaged her today: well i have this backlog of
washing to do...
i need to change the bed-sheets too...
it has been 3 weeks and i feel like i'm ***** when
i get up in the morning...
     for the thirst... sorry... for the first time in my life
i don't really feel like going
to the brothel...
around her i'm as silent as a grave, although still
retaining a casual conversation authority...
i'm working for this security company now
and... the girls are at it...
all of them are jealous of her...
****'s sake... like high school all over again...
since i started dating the tallest and the most popular
girl in school... i can't even begin to imagine
what the back-stabbing was like back then...
she's a mad cougar ***** with a 11 year boy in tow...
what am i doing?
what anyone infatuated does: beggars can't be
choosers... it's ******* silly but my entire
abdomen is screaming while cramped up
with those ******* butterflies: yes! yes! yes!
i'm getting paranoid with her since i don't know
what my position in the company is going to look
like... after the fact that she tried to get me fired
for insinuating that i might be drunk
on the job... well i do drink... but on the job
i'm all 20:20 vision hawk-eyed...
                  merely associating with her could land
me in deep water...
but i can't stop being loved up...
only a few days ago i asked to be paired up with her
doing a shift: Fulham vs. Millwall...
it was a treat... Millwall fans? rowdy lads... sure...
i don't know how they were in the stadium
while watching the match... but outside?
perfectly sensible creatures...
     one... who attained grandfather-hood on
the day said to me: oi oi! Adolf ******* ******...
you're not walking, you're marching...
what's with you and your hands behind your back?!
well... because i do march...
best to give off a sense of authority and look
intimidating than look sheepish and get into
scruffy ******* over minor things with football fans...
plus i was with a girl...
so... even she started to worry at some point...
when a bunch of them were leaving the stadium
and chanting... 'you're alright?'...
sure... why do you ask?
'oh, i was worried, because there were 20 of them
and only 1 of you, i know they wouldn't
do anything to me...'
sure... maybe i should be out looking for
some pretty 19 year old... childless...
        but i'm thinking...
                      she's 4 years my senior...
i die at the age of 79... i'll give her at least the 4 years
down the line to follow me...
plus there's the colt to think about...
how could i pass on shrapnel pieces of my consciousness
onto him...
how i managed to force myself as little as much
i don't know...
i'm already moving the conversation in the direction
of psychology: which she expressed an interest in -
i've taken a picture of the time
i wanted to bring round a mango chicken curry
for her and her son, with stone-baked flat breads...
oh well: read the caption as i gulped the curry down...
a picture of a friendship i have with my cat...
my foot showing with him sitting on the windowsill,
a picture of my books... stacked on shelves
from the floor to the ceiling, telling her:
the Romford public library only surprised me
with a copy of Thomas Mann's Doctor Faustus...
- of course she doesn't know she has met like for like...
obviously i haven't told her about my psychotic
breakdown when i was 21...
i mean, how do you say: and i went into a church
back in 2007... heard a choir singing hauntingly...
but no one was there, then i heard a great wind
disperse it?!
10 years down the line and i still haven't
recovered from the shock... that's why my 20s
are sort of... "missing"...
"lost" to philosophy books, to books on the topic
of psychiatry and being a recluse in general...
only come the age of 35 i rebounded finding
some hidden past of me...
being a people's person, extroverted to the best
of my ability... as a man...
- but my god, the girls have stagnated...
all this stereotypical talk about how girls are mature
than boys and that they mature much earlier...
BULL... ****...
utter and complete: *******...
no they don't, they just get worse!
they're ******* in that respect...
   maybe, just maybe... when they reach the age
of being considered grandmas... but even
then: i don't believe it...
they're backstabbing bickering *******!
   they all think they're in a ******* harem or something...
hey! Solomon! which one you're having
tonight?!
you know what i mean? which of the 1001 are going
to do lesbian **** flicks and use the *****
why the queen of Sheba gets your warm pulsating
**** up her oyster *****?!
i can't believe it... it's a ******* headache...
i didn't see / hear so much of this female-on-female
action in high-school... lucky me:
i was a chubby kid up to the age of 16
but then i lost a lot of weight and grew my hair long
and put it in a French braid from time to time
and still ignored the girls: until the most popular
one approached me...
what did i miss? oh... not much...
now, come to think of it: i'd wish i was a recluse
one more... seeing how female politics works...
i don't want to see it... prized ******* bull...
well yeah: "lucky me"... being a Taurus and all...
the single mums just: LINING UP to have a go...
cut my testicles off and call me Cindy
for all i care... since... these girls are past
their reproductive prime...
i'm not risking impregnating them to later
have to deal with a child with birth defects...
there's enough misery in this world for me to *******
add to it...
- what did i do today? the washing... changed the bed
sheets... drank a little... no wonder i'm feeling groovy...
and... watched: the Rise of the Planet of the Apes...
whether it's a remake or not... whatever...
the story of Caesar...
when he says: NO! and stops using sign language...
i ate an apple and a whole packet of grapes
while thinking about: the lost benefits of
being an ape, of having ape strength...
seems rather pointless...
after all... King Kong could beat the living **** out
of Godzilla...
eh? why did we evolve?
to make music? bird songs not enough?
     pay taxes?
            build roads in order to pointlessly commute
to pointless jobs?
well... security... crowd control...
i admit... you don't need a high score IQ...
to do... you just need to be able to read a crowd...
i call it "work" but after doing roofing...
after studying chemistry... it's work it's loitering it's
"work"... period...
if being polite and telling people good afternoon,
good evening have a safe journey home is work...
then i could be a porter at ******* Harrods...
sure... there are some gems in this profession...
skin-heads that giggle and shine like Down Syndrome
   constellations when seeing violence...
but then there's me...
ooh... juicy... i can use that: to write about it...
i don't mind crowd control...
i don't even mind the hooligans...
i am yet to receive ill treatment for being a...
the Millwall fans... what did they say?
traffic-cone... being a... ditto...
- that shift we done though.... finally! a girl that
likes rummaging with dates in
graveyards... she might be mad...
but like i told her, a quote from Charles Bukovski...
'some people never go mad...
what horrible lives they must lead...'
it was like a first date, i bought her coffee...
she got an extra free burger...
we sat on the bench... the moon was nigh...
a pristine night...
           i hope i can pull this off for as long as i can:
not revelling in my life-story...
but i already know that one of our coworkers
is an alcoholic - self-professed,
another self-harms: because she's a ****
and men look at her and think she's a man
while she sits in the car and fakes off
having a cold while in actual fact she's sad as hell
for being treated like a man and not a woman...
snotty girl... sure... **** her up and she'd almost
remind me of one of my exes...
the plight of women mis-gendering themselves
on purpose... to "fit in with the lads"...
but beneath all that veneer... a scared deer....
you sort of stop and wonder...
when will you stop?
well, if you won't stop...
i can already do all the things a housewife ought
to be capable of doing...
what now? do i cut your arms and legs off...
blind you... leave you as a reproductive torso
and a head like in that horror movie:
Bone Tomahawk?
what use, are the women, to men.... right now?
if i can cook a ******* curry...
what's tomorrow? Friday... fish day...
Pescetarian Day... well... i'm thinking of mushroom
noodles with salmon steaks... teriyaki style...
if i can clean the house by myself?
why would i need saber-tooth nails and a body
that i might only utilise to ****?!
that... most probably would be fickle about
the ******* bit?! pleazzzze.... snooze... endear me:
illuminate me! what's the point of a woman?!
well, i sort of know...
the presuppositions, the precursors,
the pre-emptive(s)... everything pre- pre- pre-, pre-:
before it even happens... the anticipation
dynamic ...there's never an "in it" modus operandi...
i'm only feeling what i'm feeling because
i'm anticipating something that... is being stalled...
point being... at some point she's going to stop
stalling, and i'll be like:
and now you've come to a realisation
that, i'm "somehow" worth it?
by then i'll be saying: o.k.: bye, buddy bye bye, bye...
that's how reality checks work...
they don't magically bounce away from debit
towards credit... it's either there: or it ain't...
now i know what it feels to be called by a woman
telling her child: mind the MAN...
so this is, what it feels like...
i can get used to this...
for the next 20 years being still in my prime...
i'm not waiting for something worse thn
death... i.e. old age...
i'm ******* off when the nearest and dearest
left to me are gone... i'm not waiting...
i'm ******* off this ******* carousel...
       i want to die when i still feel significant ...
given... no one bothers old people for wisdom these days...
what am i going to do?
spend the last days of my life
eroding my memory cinema with daytime
television quiz shows?!
    sure... sure... and if i enlarge one of my eyes
by dilating the size of it with my index
asking you: do you see a ******* tram going your way?!
will you say, yes?!
it's a free-for-all... no?

  euthanasia my ******* ***... i never heard so much
crock-of-**** in... well... maybe i'm reincarnated...
besides the point! i'm not hearing it here,
i'm not hearing it now...

    time's a sort of a public that doesn't
have the capacity to spend.