left home at 10am: came back home at 10pm... at Romford ordered 6 spicy chicken wings for £3... ate them with such a relish perhaps even some relief... didn't eat anything since 12pm... i felt relieved to be eating something when truly hungry... i think that's important: eating something when you're truly hungry: reliving ancient days when a man would have to hunt... like Socrates "said": some people live to eat... while others eat to live... i'm persuaded by the latter category: everything tastes all the better... i'm not talking about starving... i'm talking fasting...
the best atmosphere at Wembley so far... Nottingham Forest vs. Huddersfield... the most pleasant crowd so far... no one really running into me and trying to hug me while at the same time bruising me from all the joy... over such trivial matters... then again... people invest years and years into watching soap operas on t.v. Forest's sitcom "suspended sentence" has been running for 23 years after being relegated to the lesser league... i was actually chatting to this colt about: how he wasn't even born when Forest was a high-flying football club...
fist bumping: 'i want your children'... getting candy from a lady after i helped her out to get a cleaner to clean the pigeon **** off her seat... blah blah... full smile one: genuine... i already have the silver linings: smile wrinkles under around my eyes... and grey hair making a conquest around my sideburns... i really am 36... i feel like i'm 36 years old... it feels good to be 36 years old... this confident and at the same this reserved:
it's a good thing i visited the brothel and sat there, in the waiting room... intimidated by about 10 prostitutes... asking all of them to choose being told by one: you can't do that! then telling the one that told me that: oh, fair enough... you'll do... since you're the mouthy one...
i ate my six spicy chicken wings: no point getting a meal with chips... the ratio of meat to batter on those wings sort of counters the point of having chips... smoked a cigarette in the fresh air... ah...
back to the stadium... a lot of young boys making makeshift paper aeroplanes from paper left on every seat for the opening ceremony... i was thinking: what if someone was to randomly turn around and that paper aeroplane would hit them in the eye? no matter... the boys were having fun...
people trying to bring alcohol and drink it in view of the pitch... body language took over: i just insinuated... and i was obeyed... talk about owning a dog but not owning a leash... i'd love to own a dog like i might be a cat: i can' imagine stressing a cat with either accessory of a leash or a muzzle... so why would i do that to a dog? i see foxes freely roaming... i couldn't...
more hugs, handshakes, fist-bumps... for some reason... stroking the new lucky charm of Nottingham Forest: an inflatable banana... funny, that... my nickname at university was BANAN... because i once wore the Velvet Underground t-shirt to a party...
i was stroking the inflatable banana for good luck... everyone managed to get the joke... it's good... to find oneself in / with appeal among a crowd of strangers... in the moment? they're better than friends... everything remains puddle deep... it's veneer but at the same time it's not veneer...
only racial minorities will continue to complain about the English (people)... but... being a good judge of character... i was supposed to be paired up... i ended up doing most of the shift on my own... because some copper-neck was slacking... every time some **** hit the fan he would come across as too authoritative... or he would disappear...
it's not a judge of "colour"... that's the descriptive element of MY language... one excuse after another... i was supposed to be giving the benefit of the doubt to a slacker... my supervisor... beyond copper-neck excused him with the words: oh... benefit of the doubt... he's just work shy... work shy? work shy?! lazy... but not lazy enough to climb up the tree and try the arithmetic of straightening bananas, no?!
i don't need an extra hassle if i can do this job by myself...
"we" reached a sentimental zenith with this one guy, i.e. me and him... about old Wembley... how i managed to see the 1995 charity shield match between Manchester United and Newcastle... how i was doing my job... because i kindly pointed him to a slot on the wall... some 1985 Act about not drinking in view of the pitch... at a football event...
and he came back at me: it's people like you that make... my first time at Wembley... so special... you're just doing your job... i'm perfecting my orientation: i just give off body language cues... i'm not going to shout... i make that suggestion of: being placed before the guillotine... cut-it-out... even a deaf person could understand me: i extend my fingers... and make a cutting motion across my neck... moving my hand right to left...
that helps... no... my father: i was a roofer too, once upon a time... wouldn't call it work... managing a crowd is not really work... once you're left in a trench of dealing with inanimate things that always: always obey your every whim is work... but dealing with people is never work...
fair enough... what a lovely day... it's Wembley and i love taking the Metropolitan Line from Wembley Park to Liverpool St., mind you... come Wednesday i do hope that that coming Jubilee will ensure the major night tube lines will be open... i dread taking the night buses home even thought the Argentina vs. Italy match is supposed to finish at around 10:30pm....
hell... i don't care if i'm being underpaid... i don't think i am... i'm getting paid to "work" while other people pay... circa £100 for a seat... stroking an inflatable banana for good luck: it's going to become a Nottingham Forest gimmick: a good luck charm... i'm feeling it... Nottingham Forest & bananas...
in that kind of scenario i was genuinely for them winning against Huddersfield... why? well... on the way in i heard rumours that Nottingham Forest only got promoted on penalty shoot-outs... i needed a 90min closure... if it wasn't a 90min closure... i would have left at... perhaps 10pm... got home at 12am... obviously i was supporting the Nottingham crowd... i even took a "break" 10 minutes from the end to share in their drama enthusiasm of a supporter...
another thing? you notice it... just before the match... i stood with my arms folded behind my back... "lip-reading": i couldn't sing... the national anthem... people notice that... i'm not "one of them": but i am "one of them"... she's still my Queenie... only racial minorities have a problem with the English... i don't have a problem with the English... i think the English people are spectacular people...
i made a mistake of studying in Scotland-Sock-Land... i should have studied in Liverpool... Newcastle... why is it that the further up you go the women are friendlier and prettier?! more Norse genes?!
why am i writing about work? nothing interesting is happening in the idea department of my 'ead... literally... nothing... only today i thought: it would be worthwhile to read a book... rather than a newspaper... this book has ben bugging me for some time...
thank god i don't have the Latin original... it's all in English... Ovid's ****** Poems... i don't do chapters... esp. not when commuting... and to intimidate the possible onlookers... my book-note? a 100 rouble banknote... yay! "Ukraine"... really? i really don't care about Ukraine... why would i give a **** about Ukraine... if Ukraine will not give Lvov back to the original architects of the city?!
i'm seriously not the man who heard a choir in an empty church and a great wind that subsequently dispersed it back in 2007... i'm the guy with... Nik Kershaw's wouldn't it be good playing on repeat in my head... on silent mode...
nothing truly beats ancient Roman poets... i'm reliving an experience that was originally intended to remain stale... moulded... gathering dust on my shelf... i've owned a book by Ovid for... when awake? you count donkeys... when trying to stay awake: you count donkeys... sure... then trying to fall asleep you count sheep: imitation clouds... but Ovid... Ovid was always going to surpass my esteem for either Virgil and Horace... Ovid was always going to cut the argument short...
like today... two guys were adamant on an argument... Hazard or Salah... i was asked the question when the shift ended... Hazard or Salah? my reply? Hazard... when he played for Chelsea... hands down... what team do you support? West Ham... see! see! the response came! what bias?! a West Ham supporter can't support anything good about Chelsea! just because these guys haven't seen Hazard in his prime at Real Madrid...
it's true... Hazard at Chelsea... Lukaku at Inter Milan... you think that Haaland and City is a match-made-in-heaven? i doubt it... some players should just stick to the atmosphere... Mark Noble at West Ham... Steven Gerrard at Liverpool... you can't just transfer someone's soul from one body to another like you: "supposedly" can in the Hindu concept of reincarnation... no! e.g.? the Watkin's Tower makes a lot of sense... since... the prime icons of London are hardly reminding anyone that this construction exists... because: competition with Paris' Eiffel suffocated the idea into a: misnomer of: ooh! icon of architecture! it isn't... the "idea" concerning the architecture of the tower of Eiffel in Paris worked... Watkin's Tower is hardly central... what has London have? pseudo-communist Barbican: as the saying goes...
either you are happy with what you have... or you have what you are happy with...
London is not a ******* cliche Las Vegas... sure... sure... lodge a ******* pseudo-Eiffel next to St. Paul's cathedral and let's rewrite Handel's Messiah with some dub-step DROP interludes...
******* overshadowing pyramid-height chasers...
****'s sake... i can see the Watkin's Tower from Mashiters Hill... or... wait... was that from a roof at one of the office blocks... near St. Paul's... the Scottish Widows' HQ when i joked: isn't that... the Eiffel?
it's that genius of Ovid's observations... about touching one's ear lobes to provide evidence of disinterest... while at the same time: oh modern optics... back in the elder times... perhaps fiddling with one's ring on one's ring finger was a sign of approval... but lately i've noticed that women place a ring on either their index or *******: as if implying: i do not require to be wed... a ring placed on the index or *******: a ring placed on the *******?! *******! marriage! *******: pair-bonding! let's make the nobility of swans extinct! and on the index... who knows?!
i yawn at the football match, concentrating my attention on the crowd... i murmur the national anthem of: god save the queen and i spot an alliance... someone in the crowd feels "secure" that i'm murmuring alongside them a pride: not a homosexual pride... just an outright... as i fiddle with my fu manchu...
and my... competing love-patch in length... blonde... competing in length with my beard's length... like some ancient Cossack...
the Slavic proverb stands solid:
wenn unter krähen: du krächzen wie sie! when among crows: you croak like them!
i find myself very accommodating... when it's required...
i need no "other" place to visit... i need to become more of a spider and weave more of my web and strangle the topography of London to my demands... of the commute... as much as i'd love to escape to the Faroe Islands... i don't think i could ever leave London behind... as much as i loved Edinburgh on first impressions... i could leave Edinburgh... i don't think i could ever leave London... seeing it morph: diverge: grow... i don't think i could ever leave London... Loon-doon...
die ganze welt ist hier! pfauen ihre sprachen! the whole world is here! peacocking their languages! while i come with my toy-zeppelins! während ich kommen sie mit mein spielzeugzeppeline!