it was my first time seeing an eye doctor - only yesterday:
oculist - not occultist - coo coo should i change my favourites from crows to pigeons?
change my scouts to messengers?
once upon a time we would sail across the horizon of where the seas would merge with skies with at least two crows
to scout for dry land... the boundaries thus established between seas and lands there is an earnest need to levy a rest for horses and for crows and invest in the theology of:
replacing Huginn and Muninn with Fantasiss og Havhimmel -
never mind... the Hebrews are as guilty of trivialising knowledge as the gentiles and their astrology bull.... ****...
the Hebrews and their gematria the gentiles and their astrology - same ****, different cover... to allude to A = 1 to suggest that words can be influenced by a meaning in number is a blasphemy against the dictum primo (first saying)
initio erat verbum et verbum fuit *** deus...
in the beginning there was the word... so much for the fall of man as the fall of word into the lasp, grasp and grub of man's intestines kidneys brain and a grieving soul (search)
almost simultaneously: the fall of word and of god and the rise of man and the subsequent acquisition of words as communication as that equivalence to the harnessing of fire gifted to us by Prometheus...
words and fire met somewhere in a non-dialectical exchange: for this is needed, and was...
funniest football hooligan chants i ever heard came from Millwall - or the London Scoots - Scots, dockers, who call West Ham (Cockneys) pikeys... and call the north London Jewry penny knackers, pinchers, nibblers... 4 x 2s... ha ah ha... tenet (almost)
aha!
the most marvelous time... against QPR... two weeks ago...
also recently: a burglary... had a PTSD episode last night where i made my mark on the night air with my breath: as you can imagine my mother was woken as i grieved a lost privacy a safe haven of my garden... with a prophetic armistice and fury i tried to ensure that the burglar might hear me in his sleep...
nein! nein! nein! du klein sheiß!
oh that it is one of my "neighbours" is certain... a juicy thumb he left as proof of presence for the CSI officer... officer... that too...
my mother doesn't take my work seriously... like i don't take her housewife "work" seriously... but during the initial investigation by a PC when asked about profession i answered: SECURITY to which he duly noted: security OFFICER... hmm... what a moral boost concerning status...
police officers, firemen, ambulance personnel, security officers... and all the moral principles of:
come the age of man in his mid 30s... time to start looking for a serious woman: an older woman... i would have never gone down the rabbit hole of seeking an younger woman to have some sort of advantage: i wanted an equal and an equal i found in an older woman... in the footsteps of Macron and Wolverine...
anima per anima duo per duo ut unum
now for the geometry of seeing with only one eye: hallucinations in the night, how the closed eye merges and disrupts the night or rather how the night invites itself to quasi dream -
geometry by letters, one eye and that annoying nose... always present however missing with (). () two...
it must have been so that Polyphemus had his eye placed above his nose to never engage in a nasal entanglement quiet like the crows are emergent in flight and peck:
L Γ
peripheral vision of the ape 180º but i think that crows and horses have... an almost 360º vision... if not 358º vision...
(a) clepsydra funnel sight(s)
∇ Δ
stars stars and some David: this is my colateral, this is my Balaam moment with the Israelites, because of gematria being akin to astrology such foolish waste of cognitive resources sheer boredom!
O ∇ Δ O
cubism - Picasso lettering that is a face, striking how i can't really tell apart a nose from a nose or a noose, protruding or retracting?
ever see a hawk chase a prey? i'm pretty sure the prey can see the hawk honing in... ergo? 358º vision... given that birds fly into glass buildings but then glass and air indistinguishable... like mirror and water...
Edie Edie my honey bear my peaches this i ode unto you... R ya'R Ar R pi R i didn't eat: but you ate: my hairy chest your ***** and all that floral of flesh of you i can be unabashed in public for public to scrutinise:
since i'm not me now but am me with you... given: if everything is ****- pride charged: i'll create an advent for the binary cis **** a nudge in the opposite propaganda dictum of a culture of a sunset...
cite Trinity in the matrix of: dodge this... i: pride this... and it only took roughly a ***** dozen (13) of like minded individuals on an SIA course to get a membrane going - the walls of Troy have risen once more... none of this English liberal *** nonsense middle class jargon newspaper friendly opinion section "journalism" of opinions without a dialectical scrutiny...
the editorial section i can at least respect for its impartiality and commitment to a non-person ghost-like allure... having opinions makes you less than a journalist when not debated... a sort of *****-like ATM an inflated egoism... which is no heroism at all...
but i digress - having in mind the poor opinions concerning poetics: enough said: too many practitioners not enough craftsmen... then again: poetry in a democratic crisis? at least poetry adheres to democracy: in principle and above all in practice: why vote when x why not grasp for a voice...
in vox electio -
in voice a choice: one can choose to either speak or not speak... carefully listening to thus carelessly speak: how glorious that: to carefully listen but also carelessly speak... it is this freedom not libertas per se but rather on grounds of:
audite diligenter loqui neglegenter
and amend and retract with not fear of prosecution with no ******* mental gymnastics of censorship: speech like water - speech like thought
as far as selfishness is concerned: we all owe ourselves this sort of "selfishness".
oh how i desecrated the initial origin of these words... from high on... to this lowly human and fragile and
'you can't make this **** up... so i'm still reading Knausgaard's mein kampf vol. 6 and i'm in this interlude where he's talking about a Paul Celan poem, the symmetry the words, adjectives, pronouns blah blah and the symmetry of a poem resting upon the middle with a focus on a wet eye.... the past the future, disembodiment etc and there i am... a day later... with a ******* eye infection and an eye patch!'