those Elm Park girls are crazy... i never really cycled through Elm Park before, only past it on my way to Rainham and the marshes by the river Thames... Coldharbour used to be one of my favorite destinations... riding this beast of a Trek bicycle... compared to my Viking this is a beast... my Rolls Royce... i mean... the tyres alone slow me down... they're a bit like me comparing my hands to the hands of a woman... i love watching my hands and then watching the hands of a woman... i focus on the thumb... i'm about 1.5x her size... if not 2x larger than her... yeah... i looking at my hands now... i could chop off my pinky finger and the knuckle too and i'd be about right... but these Elm Park girls are crazy... you get to the roundabout... three of them see you coming... teenagers... obviously... and you make eye-contact for... whatever the reason was... the loudest of the three, the most plump looks into your eyes, mind you... the rest do too... and shouts out... OI! OI OI! she approves... no no, it wasn't a mean OI... it was a sort of call girls do akin to what women used to do to women they found appealing when they were amongst other men... whistled or hollered... how this is seen as ****** harassment these days, i will never know... i was just waiting for a follow-up to the OI OI! with a: juicy ****... Elm Park girls are crazy...

Bukowski was such a musical snob,
he also preferred classical music,
         he also only turned on the radio instead
of collecting records...
i abhor the idea of a d.j. - i don't like someone
choosing for me what music i ought to listen to...
sure... i like classical music: i was raised on it...
but even i can say: classical music is not eternal...
its association with names of people who
conjured up the notes is not the same as...
for example: Frank Zappa was into Bulgarian folk...
me? i'm into everything Medieval...
i think that Medieval music is joyous...
it's less rigorous than classical music...
    give me anything from the Germans singing
come the 13th century:
ai vis lo lop...
         or... ich was ein chint so wolgetan...
   i'm all ears... and no one can name the man who sang
those songs first...
like no one knows who discovered beer...
i'm pretty sure the first beer was an ale...
since it couldn't have been carbonated...
how much tastier a carbonated beverage tastes
after you quickly take your glug glugs...
you end up drinking so fast once enough chores
have been done that you burp first... then **** second...
ungarischer tantz...
      orbis factor: strange how modern man looks
toward his predecessors as these savage: idiotic brutes...
concerning modern singing "eloquences"...
and those of the past? the purest noble hearts
even among the most unworthy of heart...
this expansion of the mind has left us...

                  but unlike music... one can easily return
to the style of Ovid... poetry with conversational
overtones... not claustrophobic poetry of rhyme...
of rhyme and lyricism...
yesterday i carved out an epic worth over 5 thousand
words... today i feel like relaxing while:
nonetheless typing...

an article came to mind... oddly enough i still do buy
a newspaper once in a while...
the only newspapers worth reading arrive on
either Saturday or a Sunday...
i once implored for a journalistic Sabbath...
to be honest? you could care less for a Monday
to Friday strip-search of history by journalism...
there are only two days worth reading a newspaper
on... a Saturday and a Sunday...

a Dr. Greg Matos wrote in Psychology today
about the rise of lonely men...
the reply? one from a 67 year old: serial dater...
one from a 28 year old...
i was... hoping for a more stark comparison...
house? will have it... when my parents die...
it'll have to wait...
cook? yes... clean? yes...
     car? no car... i'm "worried about my carbon
footprint" (ha ha.... i thought saving the planet
was a "thing"?), cars are not practical in London...
unless: you're moving something from A to B rather than
merely travelling from A to B...
cooks... cleans... good with children?
i like children...
wait wait... who the who said that cats are
animals best petted by women and that dogs
are a man's animal?
why do people think that cats effeminate men?
you'd kidding me, right?
so you never had the glorious opportunity of...
second time... on the second time...
the first time these two cats... i walked into my bedroom
and found a **** in my bed...
oh you mother... *******... i smacked both of them...
both the male and female...
because i didn't know which one was *******
enough to not do a **** into the litter-box...
i waited... second time: gotcha! you little **** for brains!
it was the male... the larger one...
a tornado embodied me... i stripped off the sheets...
prior to collect the ****...
catching a cat in the act of ******* where he's
not supposed to be ******* is great...
after i put on the washing i returned to him...
oh... now i'm going to wash you... after i smack you again...
you don't **** where you sleep!
he's sleeping where he took a **** right now...
under the shadow... wriggling *******...
washed him and his ***...
then... mummified him in a towel... wrapped it so tight
that only his head was poking out...
by the time the washing was done
i had enough washing-line clips on his freshly washed
body... sitting on a table in the garden
while i hang-up the washing...
then... oh... by then i thought anything would
be a good idea... i took him to the bathroom
and perched him on the windowsill...
plugged in a hair-dryer... started to dry him...
yeah... oh yeah... sure sure... dogs are lovely creatures...
men are emasculated by owning dogs...
but when it comes to cats they are somehow effeminate...
only cat ladies... no devils in the mix
with the likes of Behemoth in Russian literature...
chess playing drunk....
like William Burroughs pointed out...
you ever heard of a cat **** a child?
i've heard countless stories of dogs killing children...
i myself almost lost an eye when my Dobberman
attempted to bite me in the eye...
after i smacked him for biting my Alsatian *****...
mind you... he gave a friend of mine
a nose-bleed for no reason when he bit his nose...
point being... cat's are great... Quarus is my best friend
right now... he talks very little...
i like friends that talk very little...
i don't even talk to him: i meow to him...
saves me the pointlessness some people grieve me with:
i get so annoyed when i need to repeat myself...
third time i'm asked to repeat myself:
you're mumbling... you're speaking too fast...
i raise my voice and people think i'm angry...
i'm just frustrated that i need to say the same thing:
for the third *******, time!
with him? onomatopoeias... which is grand for me...
but this first time i tried to use a hair-dryer on
this ****-lord's ***... i will never forget it...
a 9kg animal... he jumped onto my hand
and gripped it with such ferocity... both the front
paws and their nails and the rear paws digging
into my hand... and the teeth biting into... hmm!
he went straight for the adductor pollicis'...
for my capacity to pinch...
now that i fold my hand i am assured that the grip...
is born without a relationship between
the index and thumb finger... but if i lost my index
finger... i wouldn't lose my grip...
i would lose my grip if i lost my pinky finger...
since grip is allocated to the relationship between
the thumb and the pinky finger...
he was aiming at my pinching capability...
well... he did take a **** in my bed...
and i did wash him in the shower and i did try
to dry him off using a hair-dryer... hair enough...
hmm... i used to clash teeth with Bella my Alsatian...
i don't think it was a dream... i actually think
we clashed teeth once...
dogs are great if you're a child...
but once you get older?
**** me... take them for walks? a cat takes itself
for a walk... they come when they're desperate for
attention... and leave when they're not...
and if they're in your company they're so considerate
as to sleep throughout your shared space...
a cat that's awake is a cat unto itself...
a sleeping cat is a cat unto you:
i imagine they sleep so much because they are
the quintessential architects of dreams...
you project onto them a world that's akin to what
men of old stipulated: a heaven and a hell...
no other animal sleeps so much... well no domesticated
animal sleeps so much...
there must be something in this riddle...
why do they sleep so much:
they sleep for all of us... these Bonsai tigers...
also... why is the lion considered the king of the animal
kingdom? terrible idea...
put a lion next to a bear...
                     the bear is the king of the animal kingdom...

- i find it absolutely terrifying that cats don't
think their lives a waste by sleeping so much...
for a person that usually dreams only sounds
or letters... on the odd occasion will: conjure up a form
of sort... it probably stems from my earliest memory...
of my maternal grandfather... sitting me before a plaything
piano while he sat before an actual piano...
and we played together... i have more access
to memory than to dreams: he was a shadow-form...
a great grey-engulfment...
      but it's absolutely terrifying to see these creatures
(i.e. cats) sleep so much...
it concerns me because then i start thinking
comforting thoughts about death...
i start thinking of death like cats demand
of the deity of sleep more access to sleep more...
being alive is almost being more dead than alive...
cats become alive when they sleep...
double on that statement: as William Burroughs
mentioned: there's never a wasted moment
in the company of cats...
sure... he succumbed to Scientology...
does it matter? i have no ad hominem approach
to this particular writer...

unlike with music... you can easily go back
to the writing style of an Ovid...
i'd like to break away from any sort of erotica for at
least one night...
a night such as this when you can pleasure yourself:
because you have the ******* to do so...
it would be pointless to pleasure myself should
i be circumcised... that's what the ******* is for...
my ******* = no need for a woman's compensation
with a the torturous NIQAB... or anything
the orthodox Jewish girls throw at you...

but a lion is not the king of the animal kingdom!
the bear is...
bears are omnivores... bears hibernate...
bears are far more superior creatures to man...
bears are not governed / manipulated by ideas...
faiths... obligations... a lion will require a role
of protector of a mass of land for his harem
of lionesses to hunt and provide for their litter...
bears? loners... they like their own company...
just like a crown, the emblem...
enjoys a head not attached to neck
or a neck attached to a torso...
a bear standing on its hind legs is less intimidating
than a lion growling? a bear: standing on its hind
legs and bellowing out less a growl but
the unleashed summons of pre-history?
    
             i don't think a lion is the king of the animal
kingdom... if he were... then his cousin tiger would
not sneak in his bonsai cousins into our homes...
we'd have little bears running around...
as pets...

gratifying little taste of a day that leaves my
breath stinking of whiskey
while being cooled come this hour
by the wind... with such an expanse of time
before me yawning at my efforts to justify
my existence...
perhaps a life not living... but i'd live it one more
time and tell myself the second time:
to not be so invigorated by a happy:
infuriating anger...
then again: i wouldn't change a thing...
not my stupidity in youth...
not my wizened self coming to my zenith
of mortality... i wouldn't choose to become
a gladiator of the modern sense
by kicking a football between 22 ballerinas
into order to break off to become a philanthropist:
or for that matter: FLAUNT my money...
in order to gain some incremental
gain in status...
i can't be post-modernist when it comes
to the individual: but in how society is organised:
what is societally expected?
i can be very much post-modernist...

for example? i am yet to meet my intellectual match
of the opposite ***...
i haven't... i can't bemoan the fact that
i haven't... the sun rises... the sun sets...
it's as simple as this...
no number of scientific facts will tell me
that gravity is not at work whether
a body falls from a height or whether a body
is standing still...
there's the microcosm of gravity
and a macrocosm of gravity...
the earth moves around the sun rather than
the sun rising with the sunrise and spreads
its glorious ****** and legs across the sky:
life's all the much: pretty much the same...
whatever Copernicus achieved... well...
that wasn't a "faux pas": a trend a... fashion...
Darwinism feels more like a fashion trend
very much coupled with Freudian thinking than
anything... given? men are outside of the natural
order of things... the strong? no... they do not reproduce...
they smart? they don't reproduce...
among men who reproduces?
whoever is most desperate...
and who creates these desperations?
desperate men... today i cycled past a couple...
mein gott! you really have to be thirsty to couple
with with such a beached whale of a woman...
i take care of myself:
i don't take care of myself:
but even i know that there are limits...
concerning the ergonomics of: in transit...

are we? moving, *******, cattle?! cattle seem more lean!
a little taste of starving would do a lot
of good for some of these people...
i don't wish to demean them...
but sometimes demeaning someone comes
naturally... unconsciously...
i think think that's synonymous:
to judge someone "unconsciously" by way
of natural selection...
man was never going to overpower clarifying
nature with, "some": argument that might make sense...
not among solipsism, narcissism, fate, chance...

then again Bukowski was a gambling man...
i don't gamble... maybe that's why i collected records...
moved into dealing with vinyls...
only today saw the Royal Mail advert for
Transformer stamps...
just in order to keep the legacy of my grandfather
alive... i think... i'll buy them...
i liked the original Transformers as a kid...
i don't really like stamps... but he was a stamp
collector...

i'm thinking: brothels...
  or like in Japan the ラブ ホテル
             (rabu hoteru)
                            what's the ****** difference?
i'm thinking: syllables... rather than atomised
lettering... there's so much of my thinking that
is incompatible with a woman...
even at work... i can talk, with women...
but i have yet to talk about something
that truly interests me...
i just... fake it... if women fake ******* during
***... i fake interest during conversation...
obviously i've seen and heard the "hot shivers"...
outside of work women are just passerby daydreams...
i'm not lonely: i sometimes get an auditory hallucination
from time to time...
a hallucination that... upon changing the tongue
of my thinking: addresses me with my name...
lonely?! i'm... not... alone!

but i am yet to have a conversation with a woman
i'd find suiting my interests...
it's usually talking about cartoons... the past...
and their problems... it's always talking about their problems...
rubber ear says: in one out the other...
my patience is stretched...
in that hierarchy of:
people who talk about other people...
people who talk about themselves...
thirdly? people who talk about ideas...

i'm so unlucky to be wanting of someone of the third
category...
not yet... and probably never...
Medieval melancholic songs sooth me...
at least i'm not one of those modern men
so quickly jumping on the route of despising women
akin to Jack the Ripper style ******, pillage...
i love women too much...
the women willing to be loved as best they can:
if by sensuality alone and no lazy Sunday afternoons...
i'll take that... if that's what the fates decided...
i can enjoy music and literature and artwork alone...
happily...

i was a romantic once... mein gott: i was just a naive
romantic... what was it that robbed me of my romanticism?
mystical Islam? Gnosticism?
Kant? the existentialists?! Walter Sickert?!
probably none of the above...
only today i couldn't stop laughing... a ******* cat for company...
well... if you really want to perform well during
*******... and the *******
of you arching over a woman doesn't tire you
but rather invigorates you... you need to do?
press-up! no... **** going to the gym...
what i learned from rock climbing...
what i learned from cycling and what i learned
from swimming...
never trust a man with biceps... hands... thicker than
his legs to be of a natural disposition...
he's juicing himself up...
i should know: i used to walk marathons
and cycle twice that length...
your legs are naturally thicker than your arms...
unless you're a gymnast...
but a gymnast is not... is not... someone who simply
goes to the gym for aesthetic reasons for ****** appeal...
most of these guys look the part...
but pit them against a profession like roofing
and... all that "supposed", ahem, "muscle":
if ******* cotton-candy!

   operatic(s) of optometry! the deceptive: it looks like...
but? actually?! it... really isn't...
you couldn't ascribe an aesthetic that's pleasing
for a man, more of a joke...
should a man's hands be much larger than his
legs in girth... impossible!
it's unnatural: perhaps pleasing to a woman...
but between men... it's no testimony for him
to be able to fulfill any serious manual labour:
rigour... it's a doped up aesthetic...
it's hardly practical... lifting weights in the gym
is not maneuvering weights around a construction
site... i ought to know...
i did my joyous worth of it...
it was! joyous!

i was allowed to abandon my mmd and justify
the existence of my body as detached from ever having
a mind...
by tonight i'm being soothed
by... Kyrie: Orbis Factor...
a time of: when men were men and women
were women...
even now i tense the muscle in my legs...
and think: i could walk 30 miles in one day...
rather than do 300 press-ups before i'd turn around
and **** about 300 ******...
for 30 minutes at a stretch, of each!

but that's tonight... tomorrow: there might be
some other me of me that i'll have
to bring a challenge to!