it's 2am and i just finished a 10 hour shift so i'm not going to use any flamboyant language, i can spare myself this at least once...

well, i took my time - it was only about 10 years of hell
before i started living again...
10 years of being a recluse: of being misdiagnosed
as a schizophrenic - put on anti-depressants,
anti-psychotics gaining 50kg...

              and then the death of my grandfather...
the whole pandemic *******:
     i actually fed off the crisis... i came from it on top...
i guess some of us did: while others were forced
into what i was ****** into: everything anti-social
imaginable... i thrived...
                 i fed off the situation... lost weight...
stopped being invisible to the opposite ***...
                         even my grandfather's death was
revealing about my strength of character....
                       at first i couldn't mourn...
    i found it easier to bleed from my head after a night
of drinking ended with my slipping and knocking
my head on the radiator...
bleeding was easier than crying: and i wanted to cry
so bad: to find closure...
                          it must have been 3 months before the tear
finally came... what a beautiful release...
   done: now it's reality... the death-reality...

then starting a new job...
    only started last December and finally...
   i'm building up a very good reputation: haven't ****** up
once... i'm on good terms with the managers:
a real wage-y: i love the long hours i love the hurting feet...
the weak knees...
   touch wood i am yet to be confronted by the public...
unless it's for having selfies taken with them...
and now i might become a permanent supervisor of
stewards... even though i don't have the "necessary"
qualifications of NVQ level 3...
    hell... it's like the old way: gain enough experience,
prove yourself and a piece of paper is worth jack ****...
just ask Neville Chamberlain when he came back
from Munich...

truly: be out of work for long enough...
    get your confidence back in private after starting to exercise:
not to look better... that's second...
heart condition from my youth...
high blood pressure... hardly "looks-maxing":
health reasons... the looks just came as a bonus...

i seriously thought i was introverted:
  family members used to drill into me the mantra:
stop being shy... even though now: you'd think twice...
i sort of wish my grandfather was alive to see
me working... he really wanted to see that happening:
working and not working with my father
in the construction industry: to go among people
who were strangers...
                                     oh well...

i couldn't believe my luck today...
    i was signing in for the shift and one of the owners
of the company pulled me aside and said
he wanted  word with me: nothing bad...
             right, Matthew... you're going to be a supervisor...
i'm giving you 10 stewards...
my head started spinning... i thought i was constipated
too...
            humble beginnings...
at Fulham... stuck to walking around the park
before Craven Cottage to...
             pitch-side... supervisor...
i couldn't believe my luck...

i mean... security jobs run in the family...
    my great-grandfather was a security guard at a kindergarten,
and a caretaker...
one of my cousins worked as a security guard in
a supermarket...
me?!

   hmm... i was walking with this massive grin on my face...
i'm getting paid to be here...
  London stadium pitch-side...
i never thought i'd like Fall Out Boy...
until they started playing this one song and i took
off the headphones and started tapping my feet...
oh i knew of Fall Out Boy... but i was never into them...
but seeing them live?
what? song? Uma Thurman...
               now i'm listening to it on repeat...

sure... Weezer were good too...
                          and Green Day too...
      although it's a shame they finished on
All the Young Dudes... it would have been so perfect
if they finished their set Have the Time of Your Life...
right... and that was only today...
tomorrow i'll be parading my smile:
i'm getting paid to be here... and i'm watching
the Red Hot Chilli Peppers live...
i wonder who's going to be supporting them...

ha... and a pay rise... it's true what people say:
if you stick to your guns... sift through the ****** beginnings,
wait your turn... you'll reap rewards...
now i have to go through the entire setlist
of Fall Out Boy...
       Uma Thurman... ****... what a good song...

hell... and then on the 29th June and 1st of July:
Ed Sheeran at Wembley...
                                     life has become beautiful again...
for so long it was ugly... ugly a wet haggard mutt...

nope... i could never leave London,
not now... i'm part of the integral cultural backdrop
of the city... football matches, concerts,
this that and the other...
   and to think... well... i'm not really thinking...
for a boy born in a little ******* of a town in Poland...

well... it wasn't really a *******...
some of the steel pillar used in the Stad de France
for the 1998 world cup were produced
in the metallurgy industry... well Europe still
produced metallurgical architectural details...
before the industry was "stolen" by either China
or India... oh sure... the West celebrated the fall
of Communism... but towns like
Ostrowiec Świętokrzyski collapsed...
from a population size of reaching 100K mark...
it's now known as the town emeritus...
so many people fled after so many men were laid
off as Huta Ostrowiec collapsed...

but it's good i left when i was 8... if i left as a teenager
or an early adult: i wouldn't have this self-owned
hybrid new-English mentality...
because it's my own... the native population can't
really dictate its customs and habits...
since i'm also sort of native...
   an outsider-native... i've managed to "pollute" the waters
with my own interpretations...
whether it's concerning behaviour or
language application...

                          i face it all the time...
the best memories of childhood i have from Poland...
it's only 4 years worth of memories...
4 years worth which translates to about 10 concrete
memories that i preciously kept...
36 - 8 = 28.... years in England...
              happily not going to make the mistake
that other immigrants made when they didn't
entrust their mother tongues to their children:
trying to forcibly integrate...
    that sort of anti-racist pacifism or whatever you
want to call it...
i'd rather Somalis spoke Somali
than these hollowed out shells that speak English
but... you know: don't look English...
was it really that lazy to avoid creating Dutch-esque
republics... or the Scandinavian model...
the Swiss model... too hard to keep two languages?!
i kept both of mine...
   i'm better for it... if i forgot Polish i'd be a *******...
literally...
by now America could be a pristine bilingual model
of a country... English and Spanish...
but no...

well... i never understood the modern take on
autobiographies...
people live these interesting lives...
they reach a certain age and have this
retrospective-crisis... by then memory has been
eroded... and life written about that only has
these zenith events is such a boring read...
there's nothing about: this one time i made this
perfect brew of tea... for example: not really...

at least ancient Roman poets had a vague idea
about what an autobiography is like:
having X opinions aged 21... but Y opinions aged 36...
or... i'm still writing this while listening
to Fall Out Boy's Uma Thurman on repeat...
i don't think i'd be listening to it
if i didn't hear it live first...
                i don't even mind not having eaten much
throughout the day...
i was eating adrenaline: ***** and giggles...

oh man... i'm a truly lucky man...
    like Bukowski once wrote: there's no luck like
that of a madman...
      funny aside: you can't go mad twice...
you can only have one proper psychotic trip...
which, given enough time-span is probably better
than any hallucinogenic ingestion:
psychosis can't be a scary word...
               soul-osmosis... sure... with psychosis
the soul escapes the confines of the mind...
of what i can best describe as: "audible"-thinking...
Descartes' res cogitans model disintegrates:
yet res extensa is kept intact:
   auditory hallucinations?! i confined them to
the res extensa...
    and then played a trick on the symptoms with my
bilingualism... i "heard" a hallucination in English
then switched languages... weird...
i stopped hearing auditory hallucinations...

3am is creeping and i need to be up by 10am
to get ready... shine my shoes... iron my trousers...
iron my shirt... probably try to eat something...
     yeah... life is beautiful...
          people are beautiful...
                       everything is beautiful:
i should know: for the longest of time everything
was ugly... reminiscent of Ralph Fiennes
in the 2002 film: Spider...
                                         it was that bad;
but like my grandfather kept reminding me:
who do you have to thank for getting out of this
horror? guess... guess who?!
exactly: you and only you alone...
   not me... not psychiatrists, not psychologists...
you... you pulled your own weight:
i like that inversion of mea culpa into what became:

            ego vis.