weird... but it's one of these feelings...
a gust of wind... a package from Sahara...
some sand...
right... now i have to climb over the ledge
and clean the roof outside of my window...
scrub scrub... scrub some more...
thank you: dear god for the postcard:
wish you were here too...
then... something marvelous happens...
you get a random suggestion on youtube
like it's... 2016 jukebox style...
the quadroholics' overdue (2022) -
synthwave - USA... no... it's not going to be
as big by anything by Foster the People...
drinking bourbon still reminds
me of the scent of brothels and leaves me
with an aftertaste of bubblegum...
esp. since ol' Jack is on offer...
£20 for a litre of the juice...
                after 200 press-ups:
oh, the hardest are the ones when you clench
your fists... and do them on your knuckles...
too bad if you're doing stomach crunches...
why would you even go to the gym...
buy a bicycle... ******* into the sunset...
or swim... i don't get the idea of the gym br'uh...
bro...
         i'd rather swallow metal pebbles:
i remember that moment... grandfather brought
a bag of these metal pebbles from
the metallurgy factory... i'd roll them up
the balcony... watch them roll back...
then swallow them...
  i pity myself for having sometimes to have to
succumb to these existential outbursts:
35... why am i still single? why am i not coupled?
why don't i have a debt of mortgage...
these outbursts last for about an hour...
from time to time... then i realise...
oh... right... only prostitutes and single mums
in my age range are left: available...
and they are loaded with horror stories...
i really don't feel like dating down...
too much to catch up... educate... culturally...
they's no common language...
   all that would be left would be...
making babies... mindless drones...
               i really don't feel like getting together
with a younger woman...
mind you: i don't have the sort of money
that would allow me the... ahem: luxury...
but finding someone mine own age...
who isn't childless?
same old story: you made your bed...
now sleep in it...
         i'm pretty content with my bed...
no Freud is going to bother me...
trying to interpret: "nothing":
no... not nothing: NOTHING...
  not a google search result of a black square...
that's... something...
nothing id est the ego of god...
             since nothing is a pronoun...
it's not a noun...
                     i'm sort of lucky i found an alternative
outlet... i sometimes watch these "red pill" channels
and think to myself:
the world can *******... i'm not interested...
all those journalistic hacks too...
i implored them for a media sabbath:
a Monday... no print...
     did they listen? of course they didn't...
libido and journalistic insomnia...
sure... i can counter these existential outbursts of
wanton... of want...
         but i sober up, sooner than never...
from these outbursts...
   i'm not going to foster this kid... he's not my own...
i'm not going to pay off the debt your
ex ex-boxer racked up to pay you in revenge...
it's liberating... but sort of enchaining
with the freedom...
   i'd love to take on responsibility:
but not the irresponsibility of others...
             it's enough that i have to clean my roof
from all that gust of Saharan sand landing on my roof...
even at work... two girls decided to call in sick...
well... that's what happens...
when 5 or 6 of them star playing you...
and... the game's over...
even the **** has become overtly-cautious...
do i **** with him? slander him?
what do i do? can i talk to him?
         and i was so willing to become a foster daddy...
oh well... it's like that argument normie people
have concerning homeless people:
it's because they chose to be homeless?
that... same old **** mea culpa *******?
it's their own fault? no external factors involved?
*******! grief got to them... their self archtecture
broke down... collapsed...
              you don't choose certain scenarios in
life... unless, of course... we're all ******* altruistically
autistic... nice? play nice?
we're all solipsists?! the external world doesn't
exist?! hyperventilating individualism... load
of ******* *******... that's not how physics works...
even if it downgraded to human interaction...
there's always an external force...
   you get a push-back... spontaneity ought to be
something pleasant... not when:
you... "spontaneously" end up sleeping in a tent
on the side of the ******* street...
*******...
              sure... aged 35... you'd think...
"something"... even if you write poetry... no luck with
women...
            better luck with prostitutes...
that's a hyper-woman: that is...
             beside... i'm guessing these existential
outbursts will pass... once i breach the age of 40...
by then i'll be like...
Roger Moore... the only Bond that ever was...
fair enough... Darwin was wrong...
beta-provider was right...
                  the physical reality is awry...
the 6ft2 100kg... will not reproduce...
             the cuck-will, will...
                              survival of the fittest my ***...
survival of the most agreeable...
i'm not agreeable... well... i pretend to be...
before i start getting annoyed...
great! back to the brothel for when i'm in
the mood... games, games, more games...
             i want these existential pulses to become
extinct in me... i really don't feel like raising someone
else's child... paying off someone else's debt...
mind you... i loved the kid...
but there's only so much freedom you can
sacrifice...
     i'm not going to sacrifice what's allowing me
the borderline status of: non-existent.