Paul's *** never favoured itself as a prized asset for making gazpacho...
this is not an album review per se, that's just the cover, my true intentions for writing this come after... but at the same time: it's a thought experiment - concerning attention spanning... if i continued down the path of being my own pretend radio DJ... listening to songs from as many possible artists i'd lose track of the beauty of listening to an entire album in one sitting... i find that most people these days are unable to listen to an entire album by one artist... it's difficult... i can give an example of one album that trained me to be patient... my father was a big fan of King Crimson... in the Court of the Crimson King is always the album i go back to to regain my concentration skills when it comes to something i haven't heard before...
the first few words will be difficult... i'm just not feeling them... i left my feelings elsewhere... i'm already elsewhere... it's truly impossible to make music this good... what was the album i listened to last... when all of the opening 5 songs i really liked? there's usually a high... then some middle ground... some low with a ballad or equivalent... perhaps a stadium filler anthem: most of Queen's stuff was the latter...
1. holy peak 2. television 3. small dogs 4. i've had enough 5. ambition... o.k. fair enough this is the first track that i'm not feeling... but after four tracks that pumped me up... i need to slow down with the hype... fair enough...
now i'll need to take a break so that the music will catch up with me writing this... thankfully there's that glass of sharpshooter whiskey and pepsi and a cigarette about to be lodged between the index and *******: and the coolness of the night...
6. dance macabre - also a welcome interlude... sort of reminds of the madness of Gong's flying teapot (radio gnome invisible part 1)... during the time i was dating this Russian girl and every time i put this record on: she freaked out and told me to turn it off... that's almost like this one guy i knew and when i put on Greenskeepers song Lotion on he would immediately tell me turn it off... so much for adventurous stoners...
7. valley of the dolls... a song trying to regain energy... this is the moment in the album i was reflecting on the prior two songs... but come...
8. stars wars... we're back to the energy of the first four songs... the bass has become relevant once more...
the album will finish with two cover songs... a Bob Marley and a Serge Gainsbourg songs... i haven't heard them yet... so i can't say: refill! need more ice... this heat-wave isn't helping anyone... at least in winter you perhaps wake up shocked to wake up in the dark in the morning... but at least you don't wake up exhausted... there's only one plus of this heat-wave... a lack of appetite... what did i eat today? two eggs on two pancakes... and... a mixed berry milkshake...
mind you... i also made raspberry sorbet... but clearly people have got it all wrong when it comes to sorbet recipes... i'm so glad i didn't follow it to the exactness... people use too much sugar... clearly:
250g of sugar 250ml of water... the sugar is to be melted in the water... the was: obviously heated... juice of half a lemon 400g of raspberries...
i didn't use 250g of sugar... i must have used about 200g but i wish i used even less... and i didn't use half a lemon... i used the juice of two lemons... and i didn't use 400g of raspberries... after tasting the slush... i decided to blitz up probably another 100g of raspberries: if not more...
sorbet shouldn't be sweet... it should be tangy...
9. get up, stand up... well clearly it isn't a reggae cover... it's a new wave take on reggae... it is what it is...
10. moi non plus... i do know all about the ad hominem response toward ol' Serge... i'll be honest... i'm not that familiar with his music... refill... well... walking back up the stairs was rather interesting... now i have to listen to the original... but not yet... the best part being: REWIND...
track 1...holy peak... twice on repeat... now i'm satisfied... i couldn't rewind on that song alone haven't i listened to the whole album... that was great... 40 minutes well spent... hmm... new wave post-punk has always been my place to go: the origins of punk are... 3 chords? 3 minute songs? music for people with short-attention spans... just like i could never get into rap... hip-hop: sampling jazz: yes... death metal too... i can't stand that ****...
no to lift my mood concerning what i was actually going to write about... Faun - Seemann the night is looking ****... that rhubarb and strawberry cake i baked today was also sort of ****... plus the added sorbet... but on a Sunday as hot as it was today: what else is there to do? perhaps watch the World Athletics... oh man... i'm dreading working the shift at Wembley for the Women's Euro finals...
i don't have a problem with female tennis: i actually enjoy it more than men's tennis... i remember a time before the great trinity arrived that male tennis was all about the serve... hardly any ******* rallies... yawn... but women's tennis was always more interesting: for me, at least... and the "asexuality" of the Olympics was always appealing... but... pushing this ******* agenda of: women will be as great footballers as men sort of shakes the myths associated with names according to Bobby Charlton... Pele... Maradonna... any other sport... but not football... not rugby... not boxing...
tennis is a ladies game... it's beautiful! golf is boring for either party: i don't see what the big joke is: except i do... when Robin Williams explained the invention of golf... the stats are in... what's troubling is how people love to lie to themselves... sure... perhaps in Spain: where the women's Barcelona team can fill the Camp Nou: unlike in club football in England where the only people attending are... small children... friends and family and "empowered" women...
that's why at female football matches people with S.I.A. licenses are not given shifts... no one expects trouble at a woman's football match... you have too many children... not enough rowdy teenage boys... so the risk of violence is minimal... i don't get it... women had access to sport... they always did... they also had access to literature: who did Marquis de Sade write for? men? i don't think so... but certain sports are certain sports... how many sports are there in the Olympics?! i'm not even bother counting...
so i was watching this World Athletic Championship today... hmm... those heptathlon athletes look pretty... snap of the figure: the idea is gone... because i stop focusing on the women and focus on what they're doing... the same with tennis... ****... Eugenie Bouchard / Monica Puig is playing... i can't.... concentrate... snap of the fingers... the initial idea is gone... i focus on the tennis... when i watch a women's football match... those knee-long socks... sure... they're not playing in skirts... but in shorts... but... in England schoolgirls do wear those long white socks... too much ******* hair in the air... i don't watch women's football for the football: i watch women's football for the women... plain as a lost shadow come noon on a desert platitude...
let's face it... there are areas where women excel beyond any man... gymnastic and ballet... men are props in ballet... tarty-socked-up buffons... a sort of Spinal Tap spin-off... but gymnastic? the agility: the pliability of their bodies... men's bodies are rigid-strength structures... in gymnastics a woman's entire body is used... in the case of man? his prowess: his upper body strength...
are women's bones made from chewing gum or something? or are they actually possessed with an exoskeleton? i guess girls that aspire to be footballers only wished to be able to play football with the boys in school... but the boys said no... so the girls were like: Mr. Big Brother! give us a league! give us a league!
but they're so... "unattractive" in their pursuit... given: looking at the crowd that attends... thank god this is not the world cup... i'd hate to have to spot my favourite female player... what?! because she plays fantastic football? Hazard player fantastic football at Chelsea... moving to Real Madrid ruined the poor sod... i'm talking about...
Alexandria Morgan... football? eh? there's a pitch? there's a stadium? there are two goals? what are you talking about? i'm not here for the football... ANY OTHER SPORT... South Korean women at the Olympics in the sport of archery... yes... i know it's a woman... but look at her skills... football is hot-wired into a man's head that: women shouldn't... i don't care... Alexandria Megan and... something's moving or something's not moving...
too much history with football hooliganism... in a time when people are indoctrinated into what football team they support... ******* club tattoos... a grandfather takes his son to a football match: fanaticism... and then the father takes the grandson to the football match: cycle - on repeat... not all sports... seriously... not all sports... it just can't be done... otherwise i just switch off...
it's not like girls are inspired by ballerinas or gymnasts... but apparently some are... there's nothing inspiring about women football players... the attendance statistics prove just as much... it's a niche mentality... pre- or post- feminist? when is this tirade of a "philosophy" of:
one shoe fits all: unus calceus omnis vicium going to end? isn't there one?! feminism ought to be a prefix... because it's a meat-grinder of ideas... there's always going to be a counter to say... existentialism... there's going to be feminist-existentialism... the feminist-enlightenment... the feminist-stoicism... the feminist-cynicism... the feminist-Platonism... catch me if you sort of mentality?!
as a teenager i used to dream about women... i woke up between the ages of 13 and 16 and be like... Valentine's Day... stop there! coward! you're brining roses for Janina today... in art class... Janina became a face i wanted to sketch... and i did... it was a sketch... eyes as shapes... the presupposed sclera... but no pupil and certainly no iris... peering into a mirror with her as an old woman... Gemma was another i asked a photograph off so i could sketch her...
all: worth: jack: ****! so i cured myself of woman with women, with prostitutes... now? it should be the song Freebird... but it's Sweet Home Alabama and me thinking: cinema *****... a tight ***... cinema ***** a tight ***... i still love... with a grave to distance me and a "her" apart... because if coffee dates are so stupid... if art gallery and cinema dates are so stupid... i'm not willing to pay for food and a maybe... go straight down the river and pay for the ***... at least: chances are... she might like you so much that she'll let you try ******* for the very first time aged 36... and you're like... well that was ****... i'll gladly return to my cup of coffee and a cigarette for... this snorting paracetamol is doing **** all for me...
AND I'M STILL NOT WRITING ABOUT WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT... thank you... Thomas Bunce... my English teacher: he used to teach English via way of digression... what grammar i handle is my own self-taught... he had the principle: if you can write like you speak... you're good to go... but... he didn't really state that: you can also write like you think: and never speak like you think... which is why writing is a two-edged sword... i don't even know how to write like i speak: i write like i think... and i never speak like i think... so writing is a "third-man" dimension of me...
HELL... I'M STILL NOT WRITING ABOUT WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT... maybe now: here's my chance... yes... it begins with the Roman poets' overtones of conversation, casual: nothing modern: over-exasperated performance propaganda related: western-leftist ideology: i come from a sturdy stock... it took **** Germany and Soviet Russian longer to conquer Poland than it took **** Germany alone to conquer France...
and? i have no sympathy for the Ukrainians... zilch... their Cossack uprising undermined the concept that was the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth... you can only take so much... Swedes from the north... the Ottoman Turks from the south... German mercenaries from the west... Russian tickling from the east... IF it was so ******* bad? you get what you deserved... no? that's why i will never get a tattoo on my body... i have plenty of historical dates to be mindful of... 1648 - the Khmelnytsky uprising... what?! in England people celebrate one date in particular... 1066... weird date to remember and celebrate... while all prior Viking invasions failed... this Viking invasion actually succeeded... and it's... ******* celebrated... i remember when i was wronged: not when i was conquered... or at least a fraction of me...
I'M STILL NOT WRITING ABOUT WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT!
digression... the best momentum for writing: and drinking... but of course i know what drinking alone does to people... my grandfather, my best friend... the man i went foraging for mushrooms with... the man i went cycling with to the lakes... the rivers... the man i walked our Alsatian with... the man i played golf with... the men i went sight-seeing Cracow: Warsaw? cool name... probably beats Bangkok... it's a saw-of-war... who went fishing with me at am... he was an alcoholic... me? i charge my drinking into writing... i drink and i write... i contain the beast... he didn't... he drank for the sake of drinking... i remember him ******* his trousers... behaving like a lunatic... he couldn't keep control... me? i have an elephant's memory... someone tells me i did something... i usually have written proof: no i didn't... i was writing: THIS... alcoholism is painful if you don't have a creative output... i wouldn't recommend alcoholism to anyone who doesn't have any outlet in writing or painting... i did an NVQ 2 course concerning crowd safety: oh man... the return to the formality of language to gain some bogus qualification... drinking while taking this course would be painful: the unoriginality of language was unbearable... but i wept through it.... "wept"...
I'M STILL NOT WRITING ABOUT WHAT I WANTED TO WRITE ABOUT! when is this digress mechanism going to end... is there a PRESS: THE END button anywhere?!
i'll try to pretend... that this is the end...
right... breath... a long: carrying breath... both body and soul... ambo corpus et anima... et spiritus-visus...
come 3am i ought to be sleeping...
so... i came across the garden come 11pm... needing to be fed water... i wish i owned cattle... flowers are plenty... Sim... one door down came out... with a black bag... how many rats did you kills? i killed about 5... perhaps 6... a narrative starting running in my mind... i thought he thought: who's watering that garden tonight? oh... it's Matthew... it's not Miroslav...
i drank a Beck's... smoked a cigarette... started to water the garden in the cool cold night of repose... right... problem... i should have been a painter... the Walter Sickert exhibition really impressed me... the early works and the nudes... who isn't impressed by a painter's nudes? so i'm watering the garden... a light comes on in the bathroom of my neighbours' house one door down...
what's that term? for the glass? used in bathrooms?! obscured... obscuring glass... as if glass and water mingled... or as if glass and water and air and fog were mingling... i could see a shape... at first i thought: oh ****... it's their mother... but then i waited for a while... the... the... i don't purposively "forget" nouns... some nouns are just not practical: i'm not about to use them! Heidegger's hammer metaphor shouldn't be solely concerning: two labourers talking about philosophy while labouring... it should also be concerning: two intellectual forgetting nouns... allocating sign-language to explain... that fidgety-"thing"... you know... i know?! they... close door... language anti-verb all hieroglyphic noun! OWL = NIGHT OPEN SLEEP.... that sort of *******...
i'm drinking and i'm ***** again... the glass used for windows of toilets... what's her name again? i know she's Indian... that's tragic... i have an oyster's spot of Indian and Turkish girls... there comes a madness i can't control... i hyper-focus on raven hair... i used to hyper-focus on blonde hair: enough blonde-hair rejections cured me of my childhood past... now? i just own a blonde moustache...
in the gilded cage of the glass that's used for bathroom windows... she looked like a big girl... at first i thought i was looking at her mother washing herself... but then again: the "LUFCZIK" was wide open... after she took her shower she started pandering herself... applying cream to her body... she raised her hands up... ah... the most ****** aspect of a woman's body: her hands... i tend to look at a woman's hand's first... hello: handshake-Geisha... i count the arithmetic of knuckles... girl: you must be missing my pinky knuckle... i see... by the size of either of your hands that i have the index, the middle and the ring fingers... but you're missing the pinky extension...
clever Ovid: i might be envious of the "esteem" of other men... but in your hands... i'm: normal... "expected".... i was supposed to water the garden... i was... watering the garden... but i took breaks... it wasn't a pretty outline... she looked like a ++ girls... bulging... a beached whale type... contorts of her ******* as she detailed them with hand movements making it necessary for them to be nurished with moisture... of cream of coconuts... this Sikh girl is my kind of stuffing... i'll go mad for anything with her sort of olive-complexion... with raven hair... with eyes that discuss the origins of the Sahara desert as: once upon a time being an extensive mountain range...
i succumbed to a: pinguis-caput... fat head... a headache without a headache... my head was bulging... what's caput in ******? that's it! that's what it means... so i'm watching her... what do i see... her hands raised... tender little Geisha "oopses"... silver bracelet... to boot... this glass is not a mirror... contorts of her hair... her torso... i best have been born a painter... her ******* as she olives up... i get drunk on the mere idea of drinking...
she looks like a big girl in the glass... that's supposed to not invite onlookers... i shouldn't be the one watering the garden... not when she's taking a shower... she's taking for ages... i can wait...
and she looks purposively: she's pressing her ******* and *** against the glass... it's like the universe inverted upon itself, no? i don't feel inclined to ingest more hard-core *******... i'm seeking subtler "stuff"... something more mythical... hide a naked body behind a strange glee of glass... but just expose the hands... the hands of a woman... modern ******* is a turn-off for me... i'm always wanting to turn today Italian classics... this modern "****"? there's no float, there's no boat... it's all sink... sink... sink...
i was watering the flowers! but she took almost 40 minutes out of my life oiling herself! i'm thinking: the love of a brother for her sister... when your sister is unwanted by other men.... and you need to find... an outlet: equivalent of the qualification of man: to accept your sister?!
it takes me 1 litre of whiskey to fall asleep... but i need to write first... concentrate... my grandfather was an alcoholic too... but... he didn't write under the influence... i can't imagine drinking without writing... without... my god... her ******* seem so enlarged... her torso... i wish i were a painter... thank god there's no painting in existence concerning what i saw... mein! mein alles! my! my all!
at least my garden is illuminated... all demons welcome... i don't even think i can ever be "bored": i'm just the best "side" of... "soaked" in what's exacting: soaking... a bite into an orange... a bite into a watermelon... a wetted beard is easier to brush with a comb... cats don't behave like dogs should you have a rat problem.