today, what was today? oh, right,  Sunday...
a proper Sabbath at that, started drinking at around 4pm...
there was this great movie on in the garden...
something akin to: well... not akin to...
it was the movie: Seine at Argenteuil -
the one where Monet finds something akin to vanilla
in the sky... i was looking for demonic faces
in the clouds... one hour passed... another hour passed...
i sort of tried to pretend to wake up:
being wide awake... ****... i missed this football
match i was really eager to watch...
i was looking at clouds and thinking about ***...
later i managed to watch some of Batman Returns
for kicks concerning Michelle Pfeiffer in latex...
first or second, after nylon? or just bare skin...
that's the thing... when i get a taste for something...
it burns my Brian of a brain...
it's a hot ******* bagel... i'm still thinking about
doing it ******* in front of the mirror
while she allows me to slap her *** and even likes it...
in the morning i closed my eyes and tried
to find the best parts of the body to pinch...
and... find the best parts of the body to tease with
a bite...
but i didn't do much of anything today...
felt sick... like... vomiting sick: couldn't keep the food
down... cycled for a bottle of scotch...
then... some leftover tomato soup...
i need vegetables! that's why i couldn't keep the breakfast
down... it was a sausage and egg sandwich...
that's never going to stay down...
fried some bacon... used mayo instead of butter...
some ketchup... sliced a tomato, a cucumber...
a tame green chilly... salad... drank the soup
on the side... ah... much better... i needed those vegetables...
took out the trash... yesterday i was busy...
waved my parents a: bye bye... made them a full English
breakfast... told them... i'm not coming with you...
no chance in hell am i going to fight for
either Ukraine or LGBTQ+ rights...
               in my mind i was like: have to see Khedra again...
it's the best *** i've ever had...
i'm not going to just give that up... on a whim of a...
whimsical war... i mean... you come across
a woman and she tells you to look at the *******
in the mirror while she's giving you oral ***?
and... the most fun part of it being: she's unabashed
about it? she lets you perform *** with her
without a ******?
after... there was this girl Jeminah you fancied...
who started working with you...
she dated some petty alcoholics in the past...
i know how it works... women who have been in relationships
with alcoholics... they build up this "sixth sense"
that tells them: you've been drinking...
trying to get a guy fired while you're working
with him on your first shift...
   blah blah... i told the other girls: don't tell her i know...
liars don't walk on stilts...
lies have short legs... charm offensive... flowers for Valentine's
day, a banana loaf... homemade wine...
ooh... you have a vinyl player?
let me come round next time with a record...
Wooden Shjips V... i think you might like it...
GHOSTED...
3 ******* days of stomach cramps, butterflies...
i'm really into this girl...
wow... she had a kid, too? let me play Ancient Roman
nobleman and be the ideal surrogate father...
3 days of cramps in the stomach...
as much as i must have liked her:
i think my body was telling me... n'ah ah... don't get
involved... she already tried to get you fired
by spreading rumours...
all that in-fighting: because this other girl complimented
me on how i smelt like a warm bath...
blah blah... ever since she ghosted me:
persona non grata: she hasn't been to a single shift...
cowering little doe... understandable...
on our first shift she talked about this date she was
supposed to go on... the guy bailed out...
he was waiting for 20 years to let his emotions known...
i think i made it pretty ******* obvious on
our first encounter that i was inclined to romance
her... she obviously had too much therapy-talk-fog
in her head to see me...
and if women are into woman-beaters...
not men who want to pander them... if they want drama
queens for boyfriends...
no wonder i retaliated by revisiting the brothel...
**** it... i'm not waiting around...
and for a while i thought i'd be the toxic male...
come to the fore speaking about past relationships...
all i told her: it would be a bad idea to date
a Russian girl these days... even i thought Ilona was
the best **** i ever got, not until i met Khedra...
as much of a cliche as it is... my Turkish Surprise...
ol' Raven Hair... with a tongue that has a mind of its
own... i even told her: i could swear you name
was the name of Muhammad's first wife...
Khadijah... eh... Khedra... Khadijah...
   then she sends me this photograph with a fellow
******* in the background...
it took me about several hours to realise something...
a bump... she's sitting there all pretty and...
PREGNANT...
i swear the last time i was at the brothel was...
eh... 5 months ago? maybe 6?
    i know i'm jumping to conclusions, unfounded...
but these days... who says red is red
to anyone? a square is a square?
   it's either insinuated or not said at all...
i do remember climaxing...
you know... in the way that women always prefer...
you ****** but she just keeps on going...
you're going limp just she's still at it...
because... that's when a man can pass the threshold
of pleasure into the territory of pain:
which is a doubling of pleasure...
helped having discovered ******* aged 8
and Marquis de Sade aged 14...
now? time to invest in life, in my zenith...
     have i become a secret ***** donor?
did i come across that perfect? tall... toned...
kissing prostitutes hands... the one that i didn't ****** with:
her forehead...
oh my head... there's absolutely nothing more
to love in this world than a woman...
esp. if she's a *******... how she makes herself
so easily available... she could **** a Quasimodo...
that's the whole point: she doesn't discriminate....
i'm just there for the carnal body eating body...
to hell with all the "nuns" of England...
           i don't have time for stuck-up girls who think
too much of themselves...
up north... the saying... ha ha... the practice is...
you bribe them with drugs and alcohol
then... pour gasoline on them telling them:
if you don't do a ******* with 20 Pakistani men...
down south? Turkish girls give you samples
of *******... i'm pretty sure i'd get more pleasure
sniffing toothpaste... no high...
she's going to surprise me... she'll bring out some
marijuana... i'm sure of it...
esp. when i told her:
                       when i smoke it:
a second becomes a minute...
a minute becomes an hour...
and hour becomes...           dare i say? a day?
it's good... this is where i wanted to be...
tomorrow will be a custodian's day...
i'll call my doctor for a repeat prescription of
Phenergan... to ease my sleep...
my debility check... i'll cycle into town to see
if there's a stream of money coming in...
i'll vacuum the house... clean the toilet... shower...
blah blah... then i'll text Khedra and ask her if she's available...
then... i'll cycle for our meeting....
£120 for an hour... hmm...
that's not enough... add half an hour on top of that...
£10 for the entrance...
£180... sure... **** it... here's to the hope of being
hit by a bus the day after: fat chance of that...
but... a sucker for pop music...
and whiskey...
                   i'm tired of waiting....
apparently 20 minutes of vigorous exercise prior
to the *** act... does marvelous "things"... hence me cycling
to the brothel... i won't be drinking...
and i already started prepping today...
****** off... almost reaching a ******:
but not actually *******...
    ugh... why am i listening to Madonna's La Isla Bonita...
oh... right... all those Hispanic stereotypes...
WASPS have... blonde girls...
tall... dark... handsome suitors...
even i had an archetype in my head:
once... once upon a time she too was blonde...
things, change...
now she's Turkic and she has raven hair...
         weird... i noticed grey hairs on my chest...
sure... around the sideburn region... in the beard...
but on my chest?
i'm getting old... ha ha...
   it's such a boring subject to write about...
it's not the Iliad or... Ulysses...
   i repeat myself... i think i repeated myself... 10 times...
but it's close to the heart and the closer it is
to the heart: the closer the heart is to life...
to actually live it...
        esp. after a ****** rejection
from an English "nun"... on no grounds other than
the ones she already instigated prior...
****'s sake... she was so much of my type...
first shift together and we spent a good 20 minutes
in a cemetery... looking at the dates on graves
from the early 18th century...
felt perfect... take a girl to a cemetery on your first
"date"... technically we were working...
but you know... plus... ginger... roots in Scotland...
and everyone knows how the ginger rule works:
****-*******-ugly or... i'm having an heart-attack
and an asthma-attack simultaneously...
and also falling off a cliff into a mouth of a Dune
worm... you get the idea? the sort of cougar
level we're talking about?
- but at the same time.... i don't want the feelings
and feel of an English woman that pretends to
be a nun... i want transparency...
eye-opening... i thought i'd be the sort of man
who'd talk about past relationships
and work... and having a child...
i just wanted to talk about vinyl, music,
movies... Sunset Boulevard... Bell, Book & Candle...
the 7 year itch... some like it hot...
vertigo...
how can you even get a word in?
i want to learn German with your son...
******* incense... hair made up all for the occasion...
no earring, nor rings on her fingers:
as if she knew... i wasn't into the human body
being equipped with those memorabilia
from the clutches of Hades...
oh... oh... what a waste of my precious time...
it felt like... looking at an unopened bottle of
whiskey... so... em... who's going to drink that
pool of Aphrodite's amber **** juice?!
not me?!
i own an original... from the 1970s... vinyl of
Deep Purple's in Rock album...
i own a gramophone... the vinyl itself...
am i just going to look at it? keep it, mint?!
deny myself... listening to Child in Time?
                       ha ha...
           i'm tired of English girls faking it... pretending like
they're not up to it...
and i love women too much...
if i have to venture into the territory of
prostitutes... and they... in turn... see my worth...
no dating apps... not now... not ever... never!
only recently i walked into Havering County Park
and found myself a... shashka...
шашка... a sort of... imitation... well...
   i was big into hoarding... ahem... collecting...
swords... my god... this branch is a beauty...
i only sharpened the tip... some of the edges...
peeled off some bark in terms of the handle-piece...
but it's pristine... i rested it... dried it...
applied some wood chemicals...
now it's hanging on my wall... a would-be Cossack
sabre...
     i waited, once or twice...
i don't mind waiting for a bus... or a train...
but for a woman? now i have found the perfect outlet...
i'm not waiting... i don't have the mortal beta-backstory
to have to fiddle with to make it: seriously:
non-predictable...
while Jimmy Page did what?! what?!
with fan-girls?
i'll do much worse with prostitutes... i'll kiss their hands...
slap their *****...
******* a day prior... but not *******...
then they do what? scrape off the ***** from
the ****** and inject themselves with it?
is that how it's going to go?
clearly a ******* bump in the "road"...
nothing ever happens by coincidence...
20 minute bicycle ride to get the blood pumping...
some absistence...
             how wrong was i...
talking about my exes... i thought i'd be the one doing
it... i don't even think she would or could tell me
who she "lost" her virginity to...
i could... Isabella of Grenoble...
            and what a sucker-punch of when eyes meet
lips proper she was...
  
even if it has to be among women society
despises... of course... not wife material: blah blah...
but... the counter?
having to court pretend would-be nuns?!
i'd honestly much prefer the 2-dimensionality of
honesty... esp. if her tongue has a mind
of its own... waggling... sort of spermatoid...
blind... seeking... a mouth... and fellow tongue...
i can stomach that... point being:
i don't think i'm even sharing her with one...
why? she's willing to have unprotected *** with me...
checking for any...
what are STDs? blisters on the genitals?!
spots? what are they? blemishes?
see... i don't even think i'm sharing her with
anyone... why would she allow me to have
unprotected *** with her?

                     she watched me wash myself before our
engagement... ergo?
   what a sensible creature of pleasure...
of hope... of managing to regurgitate the everyday
phantoms of routine...
but, please... no superficial nunnery...
once upon a time i'd give a name to a guitar
i'd play on...
             n'ah... oh... but this branch i found...
and treated... so she can hang on my wall...
no point changing her name...
                                                     шашка....
perfect... not SASHA... or... NIKITA... close enough, though.