boom! days like this: surprising come 4pm... while spending
the afternoon slob-esque... too tired to cycle...
some Adam ******* movie...
  don't mess with the Zohan?!
    Hebrew humour... slap-stick... simple...
easy-going... i don't like complicated jokes...
comedy should never be intelligent...
tragedy... that's another bag of bagels...
comedy out to be something to resurrect
the child in man... so much of it... ugh...
too complicated: the trying... the twying...
too tired for anything except for making three attempts
at taking a ****... sun's pretty... sunshine even prettier...
a decent glass of the wine i made....
and then 4pm hits... a message from one of my managers...
Saturday's event is coming up...
Tyson Fury's last fight of his career against Dillian Whyte...
Saturday, Wembley... mammoth shift...
sign in at 12pm... sign out at 1am...
                                   i'm almost thrilled to be taking
the Jubilee night tube for the first time back to Stratford
then... the N86 back to Romford... then walking back
home...
      finally! finally! my patience has paid off...
i listened, i respected everyone... i was just a puny steward...
work that wasn't even work to me:
not... not if you've been a roofer prior... **** easy
load of *******...
         i get a message from one of the managers...
give me a quick call...
    so i call him up... good afternoon, what's the issue?
oh... we've had to... shuffle the roles up a little...
would you mind being a supervisor for the entire
media crew? you'll meet and greet them...
and then escort them pitch-side... £14 an hour...
        but you'll also be working longer...
oh thank you... i'd greatly appreciate that...
   phone down... shoom!
            bye bye... oh this one guy... just got on my nerves...
on the same level of the hierarchy...
but... brain damage... worked longer...
was familiar with the girls... started thinking it was
a good idea to boss me about...
        standing out the stadium like a bunch of pawn
******... directing people... confiscating alcohol...
telling them they couldn't come in with rucksacks...
**** yes!
             Apache Indian: Boom Shack-Ah-Lak...
  finally... doing something i once recalled as useful...
must have really did a good job in other venues...
and... technically speaking...
i should have an NVQ level 3 to fulfilling this role...
oh... the practicality of the workforce...
when experience and: trust play a bigger role than
merely qualifications...
             meritocracy! i've found it! it was lost for a while...
but it's back... and... booming...
now i can't wait... i'm actually going to see
the last fight in Tyson Fury's career...
   ring side with the media crew...
                           this isn't work... this is a free pass!
mind you... pitch-side for the West Ham vs. Frankfurt
Europa League semi-final too...
tickets are currently selling... cheapest? over £300 (s)quid!
he he... ha ha...
                       ****... which means...
tomorrow is going to be a day of compact exercise
to beef up a little... and general hygiene...
nail cutting... i need to visit my Turk to trim my beard
and moustache...
   and i'll need to visit my hairdresser so she can cut
some lawn off my cranium...
   i'll need to re-iron my trousers... doubly polish my shoes...
hmm... make myself some extra lunch...
whoever said that work is drudgery...
               well... if you haven't been over-educated for
certain things... i guess it must be... boring...
for me the rule still stands at that black joke:
arbeit macht frei...
                              escapism... it really is...
                         in terms of what could be considered
manual labour... personally? it was a lot easier dealing
with inanimate objects... less stressful...
it's a lot different dealing with people...
              all that veneer... façade... i'm actually...
awed by my ability to have been able to pull this sort
of rabbit from a top-hat... well... yeah:
like a magician... after all... i'm the one psychiatrists
diagnosed as either schizophrenic or psychotic...
i mean: if you've been given a diagnosis as bad as that...
and now... you're... going to be a supervisor
for the media crew at Wembley stadium..
            ha ha... my face: right now... is a full moon...
and i have a smile on my face like a crescent orange...
well... someone got something wrong...
along the way...
          mind you: they never figured... maybe:
bilingualism is not a mental-disorder... hmm...
                i don't think they figured out that fact out...
maybe... 10 years from now...
    but by then... i'm already happy...
                     - there's this massive philosophical angle
to all of this:
   no one can imagine... how being down-trodden
feels like... until... the reverse happens...
as a man... you bask in... being entrusted with
something... outside of your "supposed" reach...
     oh man... it's far better than being...
what's the term... having women over-invest in you?
i'm looking... looking...
         oh hell no... to stand on equal footing with
men in a workforce... to distinguish yourself...
to be promoted... that's better than...
being able to approach an nth number of women
with bedroom success...
                    you get to feel: more: complete...
you allow yourself to find a totality: the sigma / sum
of you... you're like: right...
i can move the whole of me... rather than some
pitiable shrapnel of me of only being a hard-on
eager puppy...
            i can put on a masquerade... of...
professionalism...
                       and unlike being a teacher's pet...
although... in history class... i was a teacher's pet...
i just enjoyed the history of Anglo-Saxon England
too much...
                what?!
          but in the workplace... it's... phew... oh... ooh...
so relaxing working with strangers and not being
in the authoritarian hell-hole of working for
your father: i don't care if the money is not better...
but... to be released from the entanglements of
a father... being thrown into a... brotherhood...
sure... there are superiors... but...
the greatest teacher was my grandfather...
          he knew how to deal with people...
           just shakes hands: keep a firm handshake...
and firm eye-contact...
the rest is easy-peasy-cup-cake-baking...
             jeez! and i was such an outcast in my 20s...
seriously... after coming across the choir
and the great wind that dispersed it...
     i secluded myself...
             the demiurge was this: || close to ruining me
completely...
i have to thank him for giving me a second
chance... i guess i was: as best as i could have been
to my Hebrew neighbour...
but this is better than seeking pick-me-ups
while having *** with prostitutes...
   to hell with fame... i just was a nibble of the world...
the whole... fame fabric can... dissolve...
i just don't want to suddenly find myself
surprised at being mortal:
and... doubly surprised at being unable
to give up... what i've worked up towards!
life... spare me: give me just a little...
   and let me allow death no satisfaction when
it comes to rounding up the loan of life...
              have my books... have my shashka of
a wooden branch i made to look like... a Cossack sword...
have my stamp collection... have my collection
of banknotes...
          one thing... eternity... and those 72 rottweilers...
well... dobermanns... Alsatians...
all three... and i need plenty of forest...
fields... hills... mountains even... to just go:
******* and stroll with these dogs...
          i'll give death everything i own for that...
and... could you... sort of...
you can take my phallus away...
but can you ensure i have at least one diarrhoea
sit down... i mean: taking a **** sometimes
feels better than an *******...
  that'll be nice... no... i don't need the idea of eating...
just taking a ****... i can't forgive eternity not allowing
me to... (a) take a dog for a walk...
(b) taking a ****...
    i don't need to eat... i hate eating because:
i hate chewing anything beside poultry meat,
cartilage and bones... oh... i go right down to the bone...
the moveable angle parts... not the long-staff parts...
just the "heads" of the bones...
   but chewing... in general...
   sit down... relax... ah... a chocolate smoothie!
a chocolate slush-puppy... ooze: Hamza!
   Hamza! bring in Ibrahim!
                              i'm already too tired with this
libido insomnia... i'm starting to think that...
the NIQAB is a good idea...
i'm seeing too much raw meat...
             and: it's not counter-intuitive...
i like the tease of form within the confines of tight
yoga pants... ***** like peaches...
but... when it's all in the outright open...
yawn... bore... there's a routine involved...
               exercise... aphrodisiacs of white wine...
     i tend to forget the batteries for a hard-on...
like: auto-,
           it's not mystery i thought;
hmm... let's bypass this cultural practices and go
for something... orthodox...
blacklisted... money on the table...
            hook up hook on you:
let's go fishing...
                     you're not into eating fish?!
not one of those Presbyterians?!
             by now... does... it even having to have
to matter?
           black boyos just leaving
a load of ketchup in their currency
of the current rap: sing-along...
              fudge-packing ego...
                    ha ha... idea being:
you send the same African hot-rods into Africa...
among Africans...
             the tribe leader... sold
your ancestors...
because: you weren't equipped
to run the marathon...
             yeah... but Dua Lipa is... Albanian...
what does it mean? it means:
she's not Russian...
                             party ******* central...
sure... hence: i party...
in the underground... because:
the overt-crowd of cultural presence
is... eh... sort... sort of boring...
                  rain's more exciting...
everyone acknowledges that trans-racialism
exists and that it's wrong...
i just need my licence...
to become the proper gorilla: bouncer...
to the point of: showing my knuckles and telling
someone: **** / kiss this.