i've started to absolutely loath these shifts at Oxford... for one: compared we're talking about a league one side... the ****** stadium is one thing but... just the drive there: and back... out of the house from 1pm until 12:30am... and for what? there's that coughing up for fuel which has increased from £10 to £15... hell: my pay hasn't risen... on topic: i was talking with my father about this... inflation... the prices of commodities increases, but the wages do not... fair enough: i might seem gullible at times... given my grandfather was a member of the communist party... but then communism in Poland (a satellite state) wasn't the same as it was in the actual Soviet Union... i'm no romantic of communism... but surely if there's a concept of inflation: there ought to be a logic around a concept of deflation... but there isn't one in economics, i.e. when wages go up: but the price of commodities stays the same... yet... the work of dairy farmers is the same: quality and quantity-wise... economics it not my strong point... i'm just thinking out-loud... and i like thinking-dumb... my recent fascination comes in the form of Confucius < Mozi < Mencius < Zhuangzi | Huizi i.e. Kong Qui < Mo Di < Meng Ke < Zhu7ang Zhou |Hui ****...
i leave the house for roughly 10 hours and bring back about £35... sure... it's the easiest shift on my list... i get paid £35 to watch a football match... but? today... the sky above Oxford looked more entertaining than the football match... so? for the majority of the time while the sun was still clinging to reign over the sky: i was just looking at very pretty clouds in the distance... i sometimes can't stomach these base human foundations for society: entertainment... i'd rather drink a bottle of wine and just watch clouds behave like sloths... or... perhaps not sloths... more like when a jellyfish ****** a cauliflower....
at least there was banter with my "manager" en route toward Oxford... i ate a McDonald's in the alley while waiting for him to pick me up... banter... oh right: code words... we call them the PLATOON... there's about 40 or so "banana boat" folk... Daniel is the guy who conjured up the expression: black don't crack... what does that mean? you can't tell a black person's real age... since you can be looking at a black person who's 50... and you'd guess their age to be 30... black don't crack... i really think cosmetic industries should look into the genome of both black people and people with downs syndrome: those ******* hardly age... you can't tell if there's a wrinkle on them... seriously! white boy humour... white boy British humour... i'm writing this in complete earnest... it's not even a joke: well... it's funny in a conversation when you can crack jokes without a CCTV crow on your shoulder... so we cracked jokes about the PLATOON...
Daniel played that famous video of the ventriloquist with that Ahmed the dead suicide bomber puppet: I **** YOU... i laughed on the verge of tears... it's almost like that Dave Chapel sketch about uniforms: a woman all tarts and no choux pastry stuff... and Dave's like: pretending to be a police officer: excuse me, ma'am... i may be dressed as a police officer! but it doesn't mean that i am, a police officer! or Team American's Durka Durka: Muhammad Jihad... i just said to Daniel: are any of these ***** from Rotherham? where? oh you know... that Rotherham grooming gang scandal... i'd love to get my hands on one of those *****...
a former prisoner officer talking to a former chemistry student... seriously... those organic chemistry schematics of electron migration were a bit pointless: until i realised: they showed me loopholes in the language... call it the rearrangement of vowels and consonants... absolutely ridiculous: since all theory and very little practice...
oh sure... the PLATOON was there... i started it calling it SLOW-IQ from cousin-*******... which is true... you have to start calling out taboos at some point... i mean: these guys were slow... Ha-HMED! hark the H... draw a longer breath and forget that the R was ever associated with a trill of a rattlesnake... oh sure... we get sold that puny story-detail of low testosterone levels in European men.... these days? i was signing them in... i had to ask 2 or 3 times for them to repeat their names: they spoke their names so delicately i couldn't understand them... and i'm the one who picks up sounds... my auditory hallucinations sometimes speak louder than these people, "these people"...
i checked up on some theory... the length ratio of the index finger to the ring finger... i look at my left hand... then at my right hand... oh **** me... no wonder... i'm a *******... a promiscuous *******... my ring finger is much longer than my index finger: much longer on my left hand than my right hand... ergo? a shorter index finger implies higher levels of testosterone... am i to be, now, what? self-congratulatory... no... it's intrinsic ontology: i can't help what i am... just like i can't help with being a raw-red Caucasian in mentality that's deviant from the British-compact model...
i cleaned the house in the morning really focusing on repeating the song My Friends by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers... hey... listen... if these ******* have the audacity to march in with their mosques... blow themselves up for no grand attaching reason to further each and every one of our plights: again... life isn't that terrible... reality isn't unshakeable: unmoveable... only people unto people make this life difficult: usually out of complacency... laziness... a solipsism that doesn't begin to factor in a fact that solipsism could be a theory: a testing ground of understanding autism...
but i abhor these Oxford shifts... i leave them spent... the egress is magic though... i'm more time-wasting than time-investing... i still don't understand how inflation works and i still don't understand why deflation doesn't exist... the worth of goods increases: but the method of producing these goods stays the same... i have to admit... i'm thinking about going out of my comfort zone... looking into the thinking of economists and not philosophers... after all, my name was once allocated to one famous tax-collector... mind you: i like thinking about money... not that i have a stash of it... just enough to enjoy thinking about it... i like thinking about money because i don't think about spending it like most people do: like most people who spend it frivolously and therefore don't have enough of it and therefore are in debt: these people are in debt because they spend money on credit... i have money, because i spend money on debit...
i couldn't never allow myself to accept a credit based system of expenditures... it made no sense to me: sure, you have more protection using a credit card than a debit card... after all the current system focuses more on creditors than it does on debtors... then again: like for like... you need less creditors than debtors: you actually require more people in debt than those willing to provide credit... but then there are people like me who hyper-focus on an earning-spending dynamic who avoid building up too much credit: by not building too much credit... you can't exactly build up your... "debit score rating": there's no "debit score" rating... money turns into water... you behave like your wallet if a dam... that's a "metaphor" for savings and expenditure...
it's impossible for me to spend on credit... why? i can't earn on credit: well... i can earn on credit of my performance: but that's a different sort of credit: it's a credit i earn... rather than spend... but i spend exclusively on debit... on the basis of a debt i'm owned for my work... i like money... in philosophy there's that scared word: THING... and NOTHING... in economics there's that word too: MONEY... and NO-MONEY... oddly enough nothing is a categorised as a pronoun while thing is categorised as a noun... ergo? money is a noun and no-money is a pronoun...
it's not even about being poor... broke-***... it's about having enough money to do... whatever the hell you want... without a co-dependant... no woman: no children... i can ******* from a shift... ask to be dropped off at a petrol station... rather than the usual pick-up spot... buy a £3 platter of sushi... three ciders... a 10 packet of cigarettes... eat... smoke a cigarette... then take at least two bottles of cider dancing into the night... i used to love swimming... now? if it's not cycling it's walking... esp. come the night...
there's nothing quiet like it... i hate these Oxford shifts... if it wasn't for the humour i don't think i would have ever bothered... focus on perception... it's all about the TILT of the EARTH... from the winter months and the summer months... i was admiring the night thinking about just that... this one... constellation... in the summer months she's up-close... you can see her enlarged (yeah? things in English are generally asexual... but you can ascribe *** to them... like in most sensible tongues of the European continent, there can be a sense of the masculine and the feminine in nouns... there's no need for gender-neutral pronouns... there can exist gender-provocative nouns... constellations are feminine)
right... so there's this one jaw-dropper of a constellation... it's massive in the summer-time... can't miss it... what the naked eye can't miss: the mind ought to write about...
you know the constellation i'm talking about: during the summer months it's enlarged... but during the winter months it's squeezed into its compact representation: it's the same ******* constellation... but since the earth is tilted on its axis... that tilt generates a "disparity" of vision... it's microscopically viewed in the summer months and macroscopically viewed in the winter months... when you sometimes walk the night streets... tilt your head left to right... and watch a bonanza of frost settling on the pavement like it might be the glitter of paparazzi's cameras eventing a strobe light effect of frost glitter paving your honoured walk back to a cold bed where only you or perhaps a cat might be sleeping in...
no... it's not the constellation of cancer: it's the constellation of scorpio:
• • •
• • . •
•
that's most definitely a scorpion... the tail... the torso... and the two pincers extending... but i'm not referring to the constellation of scorpio... i'm refferering to...the trapezium with a tail...
the big and little wheelbarrow constellation are one and the same...
• •
• •
• •
it just depends on how the earth tilts... call it her the little and big wheelbarrow... microscopic in the realm of summer: macroscopic in the realm of winter... not a rhombus with a tail? and what about the constellation of scorpio...
three days by: Jane's Addiction... always with the bass guitar that gets me... now admire the tilt of the earth as this one constellation all the same moves in and out to to an even greater focus... "flat earth" expert as myself ought to know... knowing one's own geometrics of not having the luxury of parodying movements that demand the rigours of traffic... such is a man's luxury of trailing behind night... trailing behind dreams: behind dreaming... such is this world: that affords me so much luxury... so little mediocracy...
tonight i brought back an acorn... no... i wish i brought back an albino mulberry... then again: i wish i brought back an oak conker... but i prefer acorns more... those hatted pebbles... oak? chestnut... a corn that's not corns... that's acorn? conker then... no? a nut with thoughts of pirate X-marks-the-spot-chests?! etymological tested grounds of frequented nouns... hammer... table... mosquito... sun and moon... sun as a he and moon: although however stressed asexually: will be a she in Ing-Leash.