.oh yeah, huge fetish fan.... gamer youtube commentary videos... like the quartery... no... ****... the quartering... it's like... ****, i don't even know what's it like: a magic mirror i'll never own, having dropped out on PS1... and telling my cohabitation ςentries (obsolete now, ******?!) to by an iMac, for its properties of not succumbing to PC viruses... PC viruses... a thing of the past... late 90s early 00s... with **** sites linked to Trojan horse bundles... a man with ******* can't *******, so what the hell is he supposed to do? just watch the poor ******* looking for their missing ******* in the excesses of female genitals... oh... wait... they found... and took revenge... but it's never M.G.M., always the F.G.M. bit of the equation... like the kippah was never, "really" translated into a tonsure, oh yeah, that **** floats, that's a real keeper that is; wankers. what?! i'm doing **** with the hand twice a day, but i have the supposed, "excess" skin on my ******* emblem... or little Richie, whatever... i have it... my male circumcised counterparts... sorry chief... you're the one that has to look for extra skin.. oops?! do you say oops on such matters? i never know... but the new age gaming experience is so much better... this antithesis of NPC styled games... and the fact that they're. "free"... but you later learn that you have to pay extra? the longevity increases exponentially... what's your payment method, if you're poor? patience... you really learn to wait, which expand the lifespan of a game... it's like: **** it, a free game, where i also get to polish cliche virtue? compared to paying £50 for a game, i might finish in one sitting? i'm about to to take a ****, play a game, or read a book? hmm... clueless among the Seattle folk... play a ******* game! well, you know... if you don't have a fetish fulfilled with someone readied to expand upon me wearing a ******... might as well watch commentary videos of gamers... same high... albeit no hard-on.

censoring female *******
with bright lights?!

**** me,
good that i managed
to go to an Athenian
strip-club,
a Polish,
  & and an East London
brothel...

psst... Amsterdam...
oh right...
who the **** travels
to Amsterdam for
the **** these days?

last time i went i went
into the red light district
to feel unabashed,
certain that...
a plump Puerto Rican
was waiting for me...
and she was...

****? Amsterdam?
what's this...
the year 00s?
i don't know...
you tell me...

so they're censoring *******,
cleavage from
video games?

   i have a censorship
experiment for you...
you know what the current
would be like
if everyone finally discovered
that
Theresa May is not Margaret Thatcher?
pandemonium!
not all women can be
a Maggie Thatchie...
who would have known...
you need to be a daughter
of a of a grocery store owner,
or whatever working class
background she came from...

with ol' Thatchie the whole
Brexit ******* would
run the course of,
two words:           *******!

where was i?
oh, right, censoring *******
and cleavage in gaming avatars...
you know how i censor that,
"delicate" matter?
i just think of a cow's fore udder...
or... is
that a cleavage... or
a *** on your chest?

there you go... limp **** through
and through...
and then i start thinking
of the dewlap...
to be honest, i don't know how
you'd serve that...
is it fatty? then i'd deep-fry it...

good thing i visited an Athenian
strip-club,
an East London brothel,
and Amsterdam's red light
district...

          and all done...
without a S.T.D. to mind...
mind you, ******* these days
is quiet ethical,
i would have more chance
catching an S.T.D. on the dating
app circuit than in a brothel...

beside wearing a ******...
i always wanted to experiment
with a latex body-suit...
excess rubber...
or whatever the hell it is...

so much for freedom of speech...
but wait a minute,
do i have to reiterate
that i didn't say this,
and that you didn't say this
either?
          this is phonetic
encoding, this is not speaking...
well...
then we know what
the Cartesian res extensa
(extended thing) actually is...
writing,
writing as an extension
of thinking...

          in this scenario...
a thought, that has been washed
in heretical fires...
having transcended
thought's association
with the moral-θ (theta...
looks like English has
a new pronoun,
trans even the already in
place transgender pronoun
category)...
      θ 'ink beyond any
association to a moral 'ought.

*now if you excuse me,
i have a bottle of Russian Standard
i have to finish,
and two bottles of just fine, fine
English cider to interlude with.

.there's redemption at the end of this diatribe, or so i think there is, well... whatever hector dejean could have ever done... of all the places in europe... i kinda wish i visited berlin... e.g. paris, mid 00s? the best place in the world... stockholm mid 00s? ******* closed it off, cold as a butcher's knife cutting into meat to the bone... and i know the saying: he only saw a bit of the world, only because of her... who, who's her? solo... how i pulled it off, i still don't know, how i became introverted because of the writing? that i know, i decided upon a career (insert snigger, and no " ") in drinking.

discovering a channel like
contrapoints and
shaun (salad fingers)
                        in a single day?

               sorry... no...

   the day a ****** starts to maul
its way into my head...
one ****** i can take:
two trannies?
              no... sorry...
i'm arachnophobic already...
what's another phobia
                      to do with it?

shaun: much appreciated
pedantry...
           to too came with
my own set of toys

  what's isn't chemistry
   is also not čeating...
all the major nuances
     of the english language...

but this overt-obsession
of the other with regards
to being either gratified,
or not...

      you should ask me...
'why is it that you don't
experience erectile dysfunction
when going to a brothel?'

   why a sudden concern,
interest,
              as to what men
              do, or don't do?

pet a cat,
put on a washing machine,
hang the washing
and shy away from the day
with three ciders...
   stare at a blank screen
with a blank face
and a morbid itch of anticipating
some sort of spew
from, yours truly?

   suddenly everyone is
"worried" about the leftovers?
albeit this "abortion"
   can talk back...
     or... "think" back...
because every time
i'd ******* i'd count it
          as an act of genocide...

        "loneliness":
   because i found an outlet that
bypasses...
          the editorial process
                 and is... unihibited?    
   ****, there are two of me
when there are three ciders
                                            in me...

      you know...
   i've never come across potent
left ideology,
                        until now...
****... maybe i'm also a leftist,
or: what does all of this even
                                 mean?

personally...
                        it's not saying i'm
not unconvinced,
       or i'm hallucinating
or anything...
         maybe these so-called
incels would not get
such bad press,
    if... there wasn't a problem
with ******* priests?
  and... the name
   suburban cenobite was
introduced?

  when one mental "disorder"
is... Norman...
          and all others
are...
                       Tabloid Taboo...

seriously, Matt, get your *******
head around this...
    'i'm trying, i'm trying...
but this **** is not lily *******
savage...
         translate
                   counterpoints
from behind
                 a camera lens...
to stage...
                       who's laughing?

the queer that was,
when it first started to tease
the public's taboo
                    orientation...
the current public's taboo
orientation of certain
                  negations of ease?

different ball-game...
            maybe that's why i sometimes
frequented brothels...
   best shrinks in the whole
******* world...
         but of course,
"*** slaves"...
                        oh that one time,
when i forgot to trim
my ***** hair and thought:
that would be impolite...
              so we just smooched
for an hour...
   do you even know that
they charge an excess on
the hour if you want to perform
oral on them?

       i just think of eating
raw oysters...
          
     but ***...
                do i really have to think
about it so much,
on such political terms?
     this is it... no ******* bucket
and ***** for me...
     the continual cycle of:
not-keeping-your-own-affairs-intact...

are days always like this?
by this i mean...
penetrating - my ego just turned
into a ******
  and became ****** by
        a ******-tongue / voxdo...

or maybe i'm personifying
   an atypical reaction from the actual
echelon of addressee...

               but this isn't a blaire white
hmm...
             buffalo bill -esque...
who said anything about...
   ****** bones?
    hands don't, lie...
              em, yeah...
    ***** envy...
             with a hand that can
hold a basketball?
            do all you want...
but once the hands come into play...

and then... the video of
counter point nears its end...
and i'm...
   like...
                      o.k. this could
work... consolidation...
a truce...
                  you be she
                      whatever you like,
   i'll be a suburban cenobite...
unofficial...
        but at least i will not
be some paedohpile priest...

       i needed this...
   there's still one cider left,
i hang the washing...
which included my mother's
underwear
   and i feel... insanely normie...
having just realised:

    i usually normal with this
sort of content...
       why now?
   oh... right...
   reading the sunday times'
magazines...
       and imploding from
all the disconnect from
                mainstream media...

   yet i will persist...
      what is an irrational fear
when the thing itself, in question,
is also irrational?
my arachnophobia
     is irrational...
            is the spider even
given a status of either
rationality, or irrationality?
         i'm definitely being
irrational...
   but the spider is neither
rational, or irrational...
     it's a spider...
  it doesn't have the luxury
to be irrational,
   other than it is a rational
                extension of per se...
sure, god, evolution,
                             whatever...

for so long i craved to write
something so alienating
that it makes me feel
uncomfortable...

        ah... the subject matter...
that was it...
       the death spiral,
the dodo project...
           first time... Isabella...
psychology exchange student
two years my scenior...
Grenoble...
   no...
   she really was a dream...
then there was that time
with my ex-girlfriend
from high school...
    a whole afternoon
and her *******...
later something else,
and then later something else...
months apart...
then the ukrainian *******...
then the russian bombshell...
the puerto rican
          plum in amsterdam...
a black girl
with an ***
     just about right
for my lack of ***** envy
or whatever it's called
when a black girl's ***
requires the desired tool
(i hear they're releasing
a new album, can't wait)...
then a few bulgarian prostitutes...
then a thai bisexual
(yeah, to my shock...
she was wearing a sports bra
and there was no thai
surprise in the end,
but the suspense was
killing me
   just before we did it
                       in the garden)...

details, details:
   i'm not going to suddenly
write out a hard-on...
   ****... i was starting to feed
into the paranoia of identifying
myself as an incel...

cool cool, "are traps gay"...
we're back in lily savage territory...
ha ha, always the subject matter...
     i hate that...
freaking out about something
you're not...

          it just had to come
at the right time,
   downing this third cider...
and yeah: it's sunny...
   i can't wait for the night
and the foxes...
it's mating season,
so they'll be at it
             more prominently...

          ah... the trans-movement...
the benzene ring...
and Plato's concept
   of punishment
     of men being reincarnated
as women...
or.... in this instance...
  women being incarnate
in male bodies...
            it's like: hell decided
to blah-blah its way into life...
          fun times...
            sure, and a bunch slurrs
and slurps of milkshake
from the great *** of kamadhenu...

i'm no better,
   look at me,
               drinking,
                 brothels...
                   among
the mad, the ******
                       and...
                  safe to say:
            liberated from
the pogrom of establishing
              myself as a father figure.

i. the beer:

of all the drugs available for legal consumption,
well illegal too,
   i love how alcohol is the only
with a credible, even a romantic story,
take today, as an example,
  i took a gamble (the english really know
how to craft "flat" beers - namely ales...
in terms of lager? ******* can't beat
the central europeans - carling...
    that's all they can summon) -
but this one i came across today was a gem,
crisp and i am a sucker for crisp,
but not enough body of a typical ale,
body? flavour...
                  **** me, having a chemistry
degree i should be brewing...
     ah, but i do have enough vine
      for about 12 bottles every year,
but the dream? well, with music shops
doing the dodo march... i guess the ever
present ambition is to brew beer
(and yes, ***** is brought about by
the fermentation of potatoes);
   but i just love how every bottle has a story,
take this one for example:

               sharp's (rock, cornwall)
  (and yes, cornwall is bue -
            quiet unlike the rest of england,
  they even pretend to be
   "basque" separatists -
  goergie goergie - poachy poachy -
            king john the **** -
raise the black flag with a white cross
to invert the teutonic banner of
             black cross upon a white flag!)

aye ****, d'er beer:

           *doom bar
(est. 1994 - exceptional amber ale)

but like i said: not much body in it -
if a budweiser is the "king" of lager -
then this is certainly a "king" of ale.

the story? verbatim:

    'at the mouth of the camel estuary in rock,
cornwall, lies the trecherous doom bar
sandbank, the inspiration for this
exceptional amber ale.
                the sandbank is revered as a
formidable nautical challenge that
should be approached with respect and
nagivated with skill.'

well **** me, i'm off my rockers, i get a beer
and* a story... bargain,
                            at un' poond und aye-tee!

ii. lactose intolerance / constipation /
             a 4th of the "horsemen of the apocalyspse":

of the four "supposed" horsemen of the apocalypse?
i greatly admire but one:
                                          daniel dennett...
and for what, if not the virtue of being
humbled, awe-stricken, and not much of
a sophist -
                    i.e. a rhetorician.
the other three?
                to me, just a trio of pompous
*****... but daniel dennett?
now that's the bearded fellow i can admire...
he's the humpty-dumpty of the lot,
  he's like the epitome of the socratic method,
translated from ancient times
   into modernity - i.e. not the dialectician:
but the mediator.
      
   and when he mentions lactose intolerance
in humanity beyond the years of man's
"instinct"... i approach a well-known woman
to me (after all, i shared her body as
a foetal "parasite") -
  and she's tried all the could to alleviate
her constipation...
            i walk down the stairs with a bright
idea:
             how about you start drinking
raw milk?
                      maybe raw milk would ease
the constipation?
                           she replies:
not even if i had raw milk with a cherry...
worth a try, i say,
given that i've never seen you drink raw
milk...
        me? i still drink the raw fluid ivory -
better drinking that,
       that shooting rhinos for sport...
for some reason i can't get enough of it...
  cheese beckons?! not really...
but give me a pint of milk, and i'll drink it
in one worthwhile summary:
   concluding in an empty pint glass.
maybe milk will ease the constipation?
   who knows, worth a try.

but of the four "supposed" horsemen,
   i have respect for but one...
      yes yes, hitchens sycophants out there
than have their carnival of mumbles
and ooh and ah's... and a-ha's...
          yes, eloquent to the highest degree,
but a pompous ****** the name came to be;
only on the death bed, was he ever
earnest to curb his sophistry -
       and as said:
              nearing the abode of death,
              man stands undressed,
              in mind and body,
              the unlikely foetal kindred -
              naked, in the fluid of change -
              readied for the onslaught
              of the forever eternal flux.

iii. the three animals (laika, albert jr.,
&, why of course: dolly):

funny, isn't it...
           if there was a soviet darwin,
the soviets would have sent an ape into space...
but instead they sent a dog...
  
seems hard to find people with ape pets,
domesticated in the allign of a zoo -
    probably just as hard to keep a domesticated
money, as it is to keep a pigeon take
to a return roost...
hence the romanticism of space exploration
residing with the soviets, over the americans...
the world will forever remember
  a laika than an albert jr. (originally albert II,
but lets not allow aristocracy into the domain
of the lesser mammal) -
  and laika will always burn an imprint
into the mind, a dog always overcomes
the monkey in the here & now
                                 (dasein evolution):
but that's space taken care of...
what about time?
         none other than "alice", i.e.
     dolly the clone sheep... cloning
explores time... and dolly was the first
explorer of time, or the perpetuation of said
artefact...
                   do i sense a "humane" obstruct
being imposed?
         the frankenstein phobia?
               oh i think i'm right on the money...
with so much knowledge and so much
power at our hands, the collective man seems
only orientated around the carnal dynamic
of perpetuating itself around a dynamic
of pains and ills...
                       never the broad shoulder
giant looking toward the western continents
from the shores of portugal...
                by now we realise we're not
standing on the shoulders of currently-temporal    
giants... but on the shoulders of:
midgets!      
               as i a child i conjured up the idea
of the other A.I. -
nothing technological...
                  i actually thought of
insemination - and if auschwitz would still be
open, i might have joined ol' joseph in
the experiment,
but like a true scientists: beginning with animals,
i.e. impregnating a dog with human *****...
or a monkey with human *****...
obviously jo mengele would have
preferred the reverse, i.e. impregnating
a woman with the ***** of the already stated
examples...
                       well... in the dark aeons of
*******... hasn't anyone noticed the crude
representation of a white woman,
******* the phallus of a horse?
     ah... you weren't internet savvy in the early
00s... what with rotten.com.