. per usual, a 502 bad gateway hack,
title: /harp/
body: attempt: secure >
proceed > ?
sometimes more fun than searching for googlewhacks...
two days i can almost handle on the brink...
but three days is enough, enough!
i could stomach the most dire psychotic experiences
back in the day, running around London,
running around Edinburgh,
losing it, completely losing it in my early 20s...
but... not something as ancient as when i was
a teenager... all these butterflies in my stomach
are unbecoming, truly...
the gut-wrenching sensations, the dizzy head...
the lost focus of being all loved up...
don't get me wrong, it's nice to feel so innocent
as one once felt... but it's hardly reasonable,
beside it being utterly unproductive...
making all these insane plans in my head that
my love could be reciprocated...
what, with a single mum and a son?
maybe if she had a daughter... but with a son...
i could father a daughter that isn't mine...
but when it comes to boys: it would be heartbreaking
to say the least, plus i'd be a persona non grata
in his eyes, however spectacular i might be...
because it wouldn't be officiated by a fostering
system being put in place... on the *****-nilly...
and just getting this infatuated like a giddy teenager
in order to merely have *** with her:
is not on the cards... thinking about inviting her over
and cooking her a meal, watching a movie...
i much prefer the cold comforts of a brothel,
with prostitutes... where i rub my fingers on bricks
before going in and touching a human being...
there's a calmness of the heart in that...
there is certainty that i might not have to wake up
one day and feel a heartache...
don't get me wrong, the past days have
been revealing...
i can return to being a teenager...
plus i already said that it would be ****** to get into
a relationship with someone you're working with...
how to best get rid of the butterflies, then?
i started off with doing some stomach crunches...
more press-ups... and extended the route of my cycling...
not as far as i am capable of but at least not *******
around toward Hornchurch and back...
there are already other red flags ahead,
it happened when she started spreading rumours
than some other coworker was saying that i smelled
of ***** on the job, whether it's girl-on-girl infighting
or whether they're already trying to get me fired
i don't know... she's 39 i'm 35 and we're at that stage
in life where we've made our beds...
she might think that i might be a loser still living
with my parents... am i in debt? whatever debt i'm
in (student loan - weird... i am a dual national,
but they took account of my British citizenship prior
to my ****** citizenship at a time when
EU citizens could study for free in Scotland...
so... i'm sort of ******* that i have to... well...
i don't have to pay jack-**** if i don't earn more than
£15,500 a year... which i'm trying not to do...
back in circa 2004... you could live off...
hmm... how much was it... £3,000 per year having
minimised your expenses... o.k. maybe pushing it
up to £5,000 with some luxury) -
life isn't ****... it's just unfair... sometimes...
not always and never ever forever...
i'm glad to be on my way to some
"elsewhere"... because if what i'm seeing is a facade...
no wonder i feel loved up...
if i start peeling this onion of a woman i will find
out the true reasons why she's 39 and a single
mother... living with my parents... what?!
i get on with them... we share self-deprecating humour...
and... no ******* way are they're going to
end up in an old person's home...
that must be a western cultural phenomenon...
they'll get old, i'll get old... but i'll be around
to do **** for them...
and when i get to their age when i might need
**** done for me and there's no one around for me...
guess where i'm going... an euthanasia clinic...
**** all that patriarchal / matriarchal loved
up *****... you are better relying on strangers
within professional confines than your own family...
i never expected my grandmother disappointing me
when it came to my grandfather's death...
leaving it last minute when i could have visited him
and comforted him... all ******* hush-hush...
the fact that my uncle was coconspirator in all of this...
well i never thought much of my uncle...
he used to brag about sleeping with women too much...
i do too: sleep with women, but i don't *******
brag about it... it's between me and them...
no... family disappoints... i'm better off with strangers...
i'm just thinking: an euthanasia clinic in Switzerland...
or the Benelux?
i'd probably love to see some proper mountains
at the end of my life... sure... Scotland has the highlands...
but they're not the Alps...
see... in our yearbook at the end of school
we were all asked to write something we were planning
for our life...
i wrote... i'll either become a priest,
or live a Bohemian lifestyle in some European capital...
well... it's not Paris... i wish it was Paris...
so much for becoming a priest... i'm more of a monk...
a Teuton - that's why i still visit a brothel...
i'm into all the things i ever wanted to be into...
Gnosticism and Qabbalah... philosophy, poetry,
music... in terms of Bohemianism?
well... i'm writing this, i'm drinking and smoking...
i feel like an artist, sometimes a philosopher,
but in general a mad cyclist who takes on
heavy traffic and wishes that more roundabout
around and in London where less safe...
with less cut-up points of directing traffic with
traffic lights... more of the old style of: jerky knee...
i believe Gallows Corner is the last worthwhile
roundabout to get on your bicycle for...
yeah... life's good... not great...
eh... love... it's exhausting...
on the stomach... esp. on the whole of the guts...
more stomach crunches tomorrow...
i need to **** these butterflies out, but first i need to
squeeze them and turn them into mush of
watercolours...
as you do, listen to one particular song...
the verse - lucky man:
happiness more less...
happiness coming and going...
all the love i have is in my mind...
it really has been luck: going mad at the age of 21...
the gods bestowed madness upon me in my early
age so that i could age with it...
learn from it... i can't go mad twice...
i think that, well... imagine going mad when you're
old and demented... out to lunch without
any chance for creating a momentum of creativity?!
imagine... i thank the gods for letting me go
mad so early... it means i can play the architect...
esp. because my focus is such that it's primarily
on language.