even before Southport unfolded i was having a difficult week: i could blame it on the heat and the fact that my bedroom faces sunrise that i would wake up exhausted... in hindsight: with some trepidation...
i can't say i was on good terms with this guy: a bit like Chinaski in the Post Office: for some reason: i attract the attention of weirdos and "losers": and i also get called one: my posture and diameters don't disguise me well enough to sieve through societal expectations of what winning implies in this mortal realm: i'm not a fan of automobiles: i don't own a car for the sake of practicality the mere idea of operating an exoskeleton rather than being exposed to the elements on a bicycle...
i wasn't a "fan" of this guy i wasn't his friend: he jousted a few times: argumentatively: friction tenderness: yes: i did make fun imitating his strange Picasso mannerisms his idiosyncratic wobble of the head but even with another outcast of Darwinism: a Martin: i did say there was something Anti-Socratic in: with a personality like that regardless of his physical posturing: there is something irredeemable that life could be so cruel: and life was cruel to Mark Leggett... he couldn't escape the bullying... a solipsism through and through...
and it's not like this is the death of a family relative: a person drops dead on the street: shock, awe, horror... a relative dies, accomplishing old age: certain complications as to the details of a death: the agony of a mother the agony of a mother against her own mother and you're strapped in between trying to make sense of: better to poach eggs than to fry them: i still find it impossible to put salt on boiled eggs, poached eggs... fried eggs... scrambled eggs though? i have to salt them: any other variation: NO SALT ALLOWED...
so for almost a week i was being fed this cosmic: existential: oogie boogie... lethargic: no reason why i can blame the heat: i should be happily going about my day getting a suntan... last night was the first night i put on my night-guard... oh jeez: the unconscious seeped through i has gnashing like a zombie thirsty like a vampire and about as mad as a werewolf...
but for the first time i didn't get out of bed to have my nightly nibble... apparently sleeping with someone, intimately, reveals your nightly struggles: my bite so relentless i could actually bite off bits of my teeth: and it's the front teeth chattering: the problem i have is with my maulers: i keep on chewing and chewing: and obviously it would be a bad idea to fall asleep while chewing gum: but i had fluorescent glitter stones for eyes last night...
i woke up and the message read: sister finds brother dead in his flat... so is this punishment: knowing him intimately is not: suicide? it must have been suicide: i can't imagine his life... well: at least some less suffering in this world... but ******* Southport?! and the audacity of the media: even today on the radio some "high authority" judge: whatever... this politicization of a tragedy:
three children get murdered and suddenly it's a ******* "far right coup de e'tat"?! can't it just be a primitive outright mob cry for: what the **** is going on?! oh: the narrative proposed by this judge was: oh this is just another summer fever pitch: football hooliganism part and parcel of just: living life... well: count my Sherlocks and dress me up in a tutu... i don't think i have any marbles left!
far right, mob outrage? so the best the left has to offer is slanting zombie-slogans when existentialism: beside any safety of ideology: comes knocking on the door and there are no longer available slogans kinship of "**** scums off our streets"... about time for the "nazis" to start buying property, then; no?
we had out differences... at work... but i succumbed to finally admitting: but he looks intimidating with that freakish posture of his: he is, useful... so weird hearing about the death of a coworker... because it's so vaguely familiar of how we don't treat mortality with anything but: the unfamiliar stage fright... it's also that someone so loosely associated with your daily grind someone who wasn't loved by you cared by you frivolous to you a nuisance to you... just like i can't digest killing a spider or a fly... this other night i actually allowed a mosquito to drink from my neck:
the night was so serene since the moon dipped into the oceans early and became Poseidon, *****: took another Medusa harlot for some interracial inter-species fuckery... jeez: today i've been hearing a Morse code in my ear... a pressure with my eardrum bulging... setting off strange rhythms...
i don't understand why being strapped to reality this inescapable tract of "coincidences": sure: he was difficult: but as much as i didn't like him i still tried to work with him: and he would still come up to me bother me with that talk and god: those teeth: i did admire how he was almost like my great-grandmother able to withstand all that rot and pain but still able to eat using his gums that became as revealing as bone... and how his personal hygiene begged for water and how for: some strange, ******* reason: he would pinch off the tops of cigarettes: but wouldn't keep the pinches (or maybe he did) to later roll up a new cigarette: but he didn't have the ******* caliber to roll cigarettes...
and that punchline of: i've been working at a steward for 13 years... yet such was this an imperfection of man that he couldn't even try to get a security license and just listened and listened and followed orders and became so difficult as a man since he was never a man but this monstrosity and i... just tried to understand: but even my patience was tested and to think who his father might have been although that was never disclosed and how his mother conceived him and it was as if divine mercy: and cruelty: to experience life with such bad lot... it comes beyond the realm of pity but from a realm of: this wasp like determination: this quasi-parasitical vigor of life: because you can't call it a vigor for life... this sickly twisted and very much Igor...
suicide... i guess so: then again he did have such terrible habits almost zero net gain from nutrition... but i like to think i was tortured these past days because i was sensing a passing: which is why these bouts of Charon: i was literally passing a soul from this realm to the realm of the exalted in no longer suffering... i was giving birth to death... who's death? i couldn't tell you: but i was in labor... i was giving birth to death... which is strange for anyone to understand a woman couldn't possible comprehend the cul de sac of a masculine existential dilemma: since i can't give birth to life: as a man i can give birth to death... and that's not by means of ******: giving birth to death is not causing death... giving birth to death is cryptic as it is wholly anti-birth:
DEO rTH bi ody...
then coincide that chattering in the night: since unlike chewing gum a night guard does so much more...
very much Biblical: a place where there's gnashing of the teeth: who isn't to say Hell and who isn't to say Heaven: whereas the former is familiar and human grotesque: the latter is godly and all the more terrifying: a place where murdered children go and if that isn't terrifying i think i can stomach this Hell and Hearth... because i escaped from the clutches of a "lucy letby": strange: how no mob furor: then again it was a boy killing children and still: no collective consciousness no protests of a lucy letby: widow of silence...
no i couldn't possibly call xenophobia a form of racism: but the boy we learn was from Rwanda: and how the newspapers lost the plot by starting the article: oh: didn't you know about the genocide that took place over there: his parents escaped:
but wasn't he "born and bred": British? i'm just the mongrel who came to England: i am not "born" or "bred" of this land... mongrel of ideas: not by standards of breeding: i'm pedigree... but but but but... buttocks...
what a spectacular dream: Hellraiser 10... i stopped following the franchise after the fifth movie: but in this dream all the cenobites were present: as humans: desperate to imbue their tortured forms: and Pin-head was bleeding through his eyes: a ghost in a ghost glass elevator: sort of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with god the ***** Wonka... somehow: if god is the artist of dreams then i had that dream...
oh a simple feast: cauliflower, boiled to that event horizon of still some bite but almost a buttery discovery of the taste of cauliflower... fondant potatoes... fried eggs... breadcrumbs browned in butter drizzled over the cauliflower... a simple feast...
**** me: cassette, wheel frame, rubber rubber: tire and inner tube inflatable, 82 quid! i bought it because i didn't want to be coming back home empty handed with the ****** up wheel: just walking around with a wheel feels like homage to the Indian flag and Elijah...
700c x 23mm: that's the diameter and the width: no one cycles on 23mm wheels these days... but for 200 quid i can get a new bicycle: what's the point of buying parts: if i were to buy a bicycle from parts: i'd be looking at three times the worth of a bicycle... but i bought it... then returned:
funny... i don't remember there being a Police cordon at Chadwell Heath High Street when i went there at circa 2pm... the supposed incident happened at 12:30pm a cyclist fell... "fell"... **** me: i've cycled drunk and flew over the handlebars and cracked my head open then walked home and slept for 10 hours: but i don't remember anyone making such a fuss... as to close off traffic: i was lucky that people thought it was concussion rather than me being drunk and exciting and that motorist just jumped out and bandaged my head and that was that...
mind you the R.A.F. did fight the Luftwaffe while drunk... the latter were kites of amphetamines while the R.A.F. were ****-heads... who one the war? the chemistry barons meister tropes or the drunk lunatics who fought for a land we currently live in...
maybe, once upon a time: Islam had an allure for such noblemen as Byron to don the Ottoman exotica robes... maybe Islam had an allure in the past: but then the 21st century has shown as how provincial and backward Islam can be: as special as any other religion... the Islam of Pakistan is not the Islam of Saudi Arabia: we know as much about the Christianity of England and the Christianity of Serbia... no?
i still don't understand how Russophobia works... all the genius of this world held by only one country: like that? but somehow Islamophobia is not the fear of spiders? someone please explain to me why Russia is not waging an educational affront against the western flaccid ideomorgue: it's not an ideology: it's a necropolis of gherkins... an ideomorgue... and such outrage at the Civil War in Syria: yeah: the Syrians are fighting each other: are you Syrian? so no matter Oliver Cromwell?
the Russians can at least say: dear Ukrainians: please don't let us lose you like we lost the Polacks to their Germanophile ways... come back... come back... war is a hyper educational reconstruction... without glorifying it: war is education... unless it's not war but genocide: oddly enough the Nazis are weird like that: educating in one parallel to the genocidal: which makes them so short lived and paradoxical and on the tip of the tongue of useful idiots...