Martin Narrod  just now
I started working on a comment in response to "Filling A Bottle With A Tundish"

Sadly I must admit, that even for an American with a college degree, who is a self-proclaimed non-Philistine that grew up in a suburb of Chicago, IL. Where I'm from I've been told is much like some parts of Sussex(I believe it's Sussex), my friend Lili Wilde described it to me on an occasion.

So I must say martin, that for having a voracious appetite for language, language of all sorts, from **** to sin, to cinephile to cynosure, pulchritude to tup, exsuphlocate to masticate, irate, irk, perfervid, wan ewes thwapping their tails, nearly stridulating like the cricket in the thistle. The advanced undulate troche of domesticated shadows, and the sesquipedelien dulciloquent surreptitious diction and other floccinaucinihilipilification and tomfoolery about.

martin, please do tell me what a 'Tundish" is? If you haven't yet, there is a phenomenally interesting reverse dictionary, entitled onelook.com/reversedictionary , and quite contrary as it may seem, and for all the Virginia & Leonard Woolf I enjoy reading, especially his somewhat innocuously underrated novella he wrote, I also read with extraordinary gratitude Ted Hughes's The Birthday Letters, Take of a Bride Groom, The Complete Works, Sylvia Plath's Unabridged Journals, Ariel, Johnny Panic, Ariel, and other poems by writer Richard Matthews. I am still unfamiliar with this word, Tundish. Online dictionaries don't give the best explanation.

As I was mentioning earlier. The OneLook Dictionary-Reverse, will let you for example, search: beach sand. And in response it will give you up to thousands and thousands of word which relate to those two words, together, seperately, and opposing each other. Such as: water, swell, wave, arenose, peat, dirt, seagull, Pacific Ocean, suntan, bikini, The Beach Boys, vitrify. It's very fun indeed. From one Martin to another, I hope you'll stay in touch. I'm excited about your work!

Best Regards

Martin

P.S. The text below is the original message I typed before learning that my presumptions of you being Anglican were correct. Have a great day!

Another Martin, YES! How exquisite, I've never met another one. I have so many questions I barely know where to start. I love marigolds, nose-bags with oats, and as I started feeling the essences if equus and what lurking prurient pedagogy for the didactic zoology that took me and the mind of me to wonder perhaps if though I am quite certain(though not 100%) that your native tongue is English, but using that ridiculous skill-set of immense benality I seem to someone have, am I wrong for asking dear Martin, are you from Scotland or Wales, or maybe even from a country where you learnt English as a native tongue but it's your secondary language?

As aforementioned, there are a plethora of questions that this runnel of sludge and dross that've now arisen in the turpidity of your antiquary of delightful speech. To whomever invited me to play along in the debauchery, and dance merrily with merriment, mine younger docile succubus's slendering beside me, puking up their tissue paper and vegetable soup, so that my pretty girls can fit into Size 2 TuTu's, and learnedly imprison themselves into the tatterdemalion of portentously lurid self-****** and abuse. , and the opprobrious trollop-gossip the gaggle of my skinny victim women eschewing food groups, in order to appeal to my conservative eyes, thrice the child's wild idling to absorb the rancor of their stoic and noisome sedentary lifestyle in the polluted sudatorium that I myself don't use, but that these nonparticular Philistines would serve as Surf & Turf with glazed Christmas Hams for the Hebrews to eat, and another sad storm surge on another deserted quay of sea sands, and our vessel and our deserters, worshipping the Virunga, sacrificing the ghost skeletons of the million year old ape. So I ask you. If even you're capable of expressing yourself under the maddening yet advesperating evening listening to Miles Kane and The Arctic Monkeys, followed by listening to Black Sabbath play Fairies Wear Boots while we drink our childhoods free of the rod and **** the war out of our teenage girlfriends. And in the morning when awoken by the sound of Sopwith Camels arriving on the early, frost-strewn milky, azure-banded stripes of moonlit ecstasy that make for this unquantifiable gesture of succinct believers driving in Summer get stopped for blowing a rice-white swiveling consortium of dishonest affair rivaling ****** addicts, with hummus, plastic bags, and forks in their sphincters, while they autoerotically asphyxiate themselves in a plastic knockoff Mickey Mouse hat, and a Pirates of the Carribbean bandana wrapped around the ***** eyed nightmare of having unsuccessfully sedated a 400-lb crabby, Lowland living-room Silverback Gorilla. More than a primate and a prostate exam. It's like posthumously straining to push tingling 119° Vaseline through the grey and white coffee stirrers which spilled all over the floor while I was saying goodbye to our daughter, while also explaining to you why it's so important to me you love me back enough so that everyone has enough of a grasping glint at understanding yourself, that in managing to reason the arithmetic of such a conundrum and confusing calamity, a phone call free of dial tone happens to be surrendered to an independent Christian organization of the state while myself and my wife's two sons, our sons, Thomas and James, have enough free time from complaining to hire an attorney to disclose the arraignment reiterated by both legal council, city council, and the Screenwriters Guild of counsellors struggling from methamphetamine addiction.

Peace Be With You.

Martin Narrod
martin.narrod@gmail.com

But not putting on a show for every one. I can do it, just. A breath. Just, one click. Such an idiot eye didn't see it, placing seemed so obvious. I am made bone crushing kid, kung Fu Star Trek TV couch comfort wearing hats with streamers, long legged lemurs, dancing on rooftop decks, lace and bravado. I know trash cans, sit and lean and feel the thrower's pitch, apple-core, empty soda pop, paper bag, napkin, phone number. Am I calling too late? There is no twister only colorful dots to move my limbs to, my arms analyze my diction decisions, the directions my lips move, the sound of my troche and voice; for fear that I am pressing the pen too hard, or pursing my words- dude man boss miss, **** I got a get a grip. Just come over an stir it up. I mean ya.

And then but what, who's next? I need caffeine. I forget that I don't have problems pulling all nighter's fixated on your face, pretty legs, three songs, half-of-one for which you dislike- I listen to it anyways. I pull through. I want to be Public again, walk through ivory hallways, apart from deep mahoganies and iMacs, iSelf study my volition, is the volume, I mean, am I talking too loudly? The music, deep rolling conundrum Evil-Dub, evening study of steel guitar earth-toned arithmetic Danish-flavor rice wafer feed me your body and Christ!; Are my legs even moving(double punctuation, now there is happy fun day), I make mercy look like a wrist-squeezing game we played as children, my fingers raw with desire, overflowing with joy, dactyls filled with vitamins A, E, D, and M, I write another letter, the draft I set aside, the postage I stick to the package. Was it five CD's I said?

Star Wars I mean Luke and Leia crushing, struck by the garbage dump of swirled worlds combustible invincibility, immortal apostrophes and to-be-continueds, I made the cover of Newsweek you make my covers of time, I watch anything with a clock on it, does it live quickly or trap me slowly, crushing, moving inwards towards the heartbeat. What if I could also type integers and letters with my thumb upwards of double-ewe. Graze baby graze. Crshng out vowels from these fringe matters of future travels, this sidewalk want I wont, will even vaunt for. Am I flaunting for this, I pray not. He's My Brother, She's My Sister, let's get back to Twister, if you could just put your Left Foot there then I could skip the words and let my body tell you. Straighten out where I learned the hard way last summer. I'm woozy while you're telling me you're hitting the snooze button, and yet I'm asking you for four things, phrases, pages, a pace, number or persuasion. And I don't fear that if I told you how I know you, I am only unaware if I want you to know that I know you like I know you...phew!

Begin burn CD #6

transcript from a cult movie

bolec: O! zobacz bracie! spójrz jak oni sie ruszają; nie sądisz że polskim chłopakom też by sie przydało troche luzu? przykómaj te kocie ruchy! mogliśbymy sie od czarnych wiele nauczyć... koko-dzambo i doprzodu! to moje hasło, dobre nie? czasami żauje że nie urodziłem sie czarny. hej! chłopaki! a może macie ochote objerzeć film? ja ogłądam po kilka filmów dziennie: pościgi, strzelaniny, wojny gangów, to mój chleb codzienny... mam nowy zajebisty film... "smierc w Wennecji", nieźle brzmi, co?                spokojnie, zaraz sie rozkręci...

fred: ty jak ty sie nazywasz bo zapomniałem? kolec? stolec?

bolec: bolec.

fred: no, więc posłuchaj mnie teraz uważnie, bolek... byłeś w stanach?

bolec:  nie...

fred: no właśnie... a ja znam kogoś kto był... i opowiedział mi to i owo... w iesz skąd przyjechali czarni do ameryki?!?

bolec:  z afryki...

fred: no właśnie... handlarze niewolników przywieźli ich z Afryki... A myślisz, że to taka prosta sprawa wysiąść na plaży w Afryce, złapać w siatkę zwinnego, silnego murzyna i wywieźć go za ocean?!?

bolec:  chyba nie...

fred: no jasne, że nie... udało im się to zrobić ponieważ wywozili tylko takich co albo nie potrafili spierdolić przed siatką, albo byli największymi głąbami z plemienia i wódz sprzedawał ich za paczkę fajek, bo i tak nie miałby z nich pożytku. i ci wszyscy nieudacznicy pojechali do ameryki. pożenili się, porobili dzieci... świat poszedł do przodu... pojawiły się komputery, amfetamina, samoloty, ale co z tego, jeżeli ich serca pompują tę samą krew, są potomkami człowieka, który na własnym podwórku dał się złapać w siatkę, więc nie uważam, że naszym chłopakom brakuje luzu... kapujesz?!?

and it takes just another big **** to have a one night stand,
and a big enough heart to have a relationship
so the soul enmeshes the juices - that famous
W.D. 40 moment - and a cheap U.B. 40 moment too -
it's a drag like that, he can run a 100 metres in under
10 seconds, but when he swims you just hear
dolphin cackling in the background - not **** aqua
for sure, that's me, with the myth of Atlantis -
orderly, please! line up! take your badges and disperse,
we'll be back here again at the fire-evacuation point
in the the near future - in the meantime do whatever
it is you do, and do it. shame really - you ever see
the fire equipment of 1666? a large water bucket...
people either had a lot of common sense back then
or had magnanimous airs about them
(see how many lawsuits were made in the past decade),
primitive technology - i guess people thought a lot
back then... no talk of dementia - they were hardly literate
but they thought a lot, becoming literate meant
becoming aristocratic degenerates - excess wine, *******
***, scab and crawling ***** on the cranium
intended as barbers - then too many synonyms came,
you said barber and he knew the beard and moustache
was an extension of the head - sure, softer keratin, the harder
version being - i've ***** on my face! i've ***** on my face!
short and briskly - freshly mowed lawn... mm, nice -
fiddle the other part, i'll take a Sikh's beard and make a
violin's bow on the sly - see how Mozart sounds after
that. the Mongol stank and conquered the Alexandrian
Dream - before the arrows pierced, the stench overpowered.
it's just a dreaded affair - in order to give pleasure
i have to give my inner life up - the Greeks called it
barbarism the over way round - words from a *******
as if implying i get really jealous and bring out a knife -
the wonderful phenomenon of the schizoid condition,
or as prior worded, premature dementia, yet such people
continue to be fully functioning in a sense -
language debris - a meteor's tail - politicised psychiatry -
the easy route - say the noun hammer and you know
exactly what to do, unless it's Heidegger's hammer
and you realise he's implying two labourers talking
philosophy while working manually - in that
the ego (nail) should be hammered into a plank
of wood (thought) as easily as the reverse - the reverse
being the hammer (extended into the profession that
uses it frequently - i, carpenter) utilised (being, a) -
i.e. i, being a carpenter, nails, hammering in.
i didn't think this through - what's bugging my certainty
in how to explain it without conversation between
two carpenters discussing philosophy, which never happens,
is not what i'm bothered with, the real issue is i have
with the inherent negativism of subjectivity in English
interpretation of philosophy, crudely:
subjectivity is bad, wrong, self-indulgent, pseudo -
this stress in English thinking with its glorification of
objectivity is, to be honest, strange...
it comes from a book review of Wagner's Ring of
the Nibelung - equatable words: banal and subjective -
banal - trite - well given the "success of the human species"
i'm surprised it's not a universal truth that
we've come a bit trite given the numbers - i've seen
cucumbers fresher than people, we're bound by
an approximate of 70 springs, cucumbers are bound
by 1 spring, you get fresh in a supermarket,
you don't get fresh in books, what with the third butterfly
species σκoνιςμυγα (skonismyga - so not -muga?
up Saigon? i thought you cut off the bits you didn't
want and put the other letters with the cut offs together?
no wonder - upsilon [u] isn't said - just like in Latin
in English we have why - iota not y - dust-fly, i guess
Babylon did survive, in the variations disguising "dyslexia")...
but why is subjectivity so horrid? i thought
we all had our take on things and none of us wanted
to speak for the whole of humanity? Nietzsche warned
and defended individualism like that - who
would want to speak for the entirety of humanity?
in the political realm in the west subjectivity is defended
rigorously - because if you begin championing objectivity
in politics the Iraq Invasion was a bit stupid -
despotism, d'uh - yet in England the tradition is to
have a culture of literature that shuns subjectivity
and champions objectivity - why is subjectivity so
negatively perceived? oh, you're afraid someone is
so ardent on their choice of interest they they might
by accident speak-spit into your face?
subjectivity can't be so ****** negative, it's an expression
of an escape from what objectivity already
defined in the pinnacle by Descartes: res cogitans,
(a) thinking thing - we only write subjectively because
we've been caged in that little no. 2 of a waiter's james
bond tux - we staged an escape, a self-worth fanaticism
on the subjects we love rather than "have to" investigate
without passions, just hubris - which is what
critics use - hubris, disdain - the study of language could
have a similitude to the math of
1 (hubris) and x 1 = hubris, 1 and x 2 = audacity, etc.
in the synonymous table - the lubricant factor.
so, anger over, back to Heidegger's hammer -
nail (ego)            plank of wood (thought)
hammer (therefore)                   a table (existence) -
so why need proofs? why do i need to prove i necessarily
exist (when i don't) or that god unnecessarily exists
(when he does) - why prove something?
so another million schmucks can come along and
prove it either way? it's the nonsense attributed to
Descartes - he stressed an impossible objective-subjectivity
(grammatically more understandable, rigid:
noun-noun doesn't work, ah, objective-subjectiveness -
noun-adjective, pencil-sharpener, pencil-needs-sharpening)
in terms of others - hence the existential other -
well impossible for anyone else to have thought it up,
the impasse of wanting to plagiarising it - a real cul de sac -
well, that's me done on the topic - sonic -
as far as i'm concerned most people keep rigidity
a tight collar of using language not coming across a speedy
suggestion to not think about:
the speed-game of preposition juggling and contras etc.,
the acquisitive use of a language v. the inherited use of a language,
two different ballparks - what i acquired i thus express,
what the organically-historic entity inherited he
will primarily convene to call Poles vermin - a little
perplexed by a more labyrinth style of language used -
it gets personal day by day - but of course the ******* are
a protected species due to their colonial roots - at least
with skin-shallow discrimination you have the obvious bang,
and the immediate retort... this **** is swelling, slowly...
slowly... slowly... those were 8 million or so
Polish-Jews... also vermin... this **** already imploded...
it hasn't exploded... it's a dummy bomb... it imploded...
it's swelling... slowly... slowly... slowly... and when you
won't know it... BANG!

Fiery free moments
Are coming for me
They took us to London
Then New York City

As clear as the gel pens
You had while you lived in the sticks
Along with Slip'n'Slide
All the boys you played with
Always paid for your tricks

When the bizarre ill-willing troche
Trap men in their snares, and everywhere
it seems everyone's begin to stare.
Into my eyes (As a tug boat and its bride)
My dad's corduroy ties (In the closet upstairs in the basement)
You wouldn't dare, would you? You wouldn't dare

I embraced the tide that took away our guts
                                                              our stuff
                                            when        enoughs enough
                                                              enoughs enough

So carry around your game in handwritten pamphlets
While you delve into the reasons you didn't want them laminated
When I spoke to Commander Owens ("Let's say the town didn't go wild")
But rather you and I I
Left too long perhaps another time

Remember, Remember
Recital time's at noon
The pianists' laminate cut off the last bar and he's starting in 2(2)
The priest asked Justin if he'd come in earlier too
Venomously he cast aside the bride and groom
So we played Slip'n'Slide for the wedding party in our living room

Dancers start on the left then double-back with the left inside
Turn their bodies, dip their hips, restart and double-back to the right
But before the wedding party, she proposed to him with his favorite song
In the San Francisco Airport arrivals, when he turned the stereo on
Parked at curbside pickup laid down and started Slip and Sliding.

it's called: whenether you dare to call it infantile, that you start imagining people being serious about selling shoe-laces; or Korans.

even those, who you left to "live"
unto the age of 70 and past,
are asking, are asking themselves
whehter it has worth it...
            your arguments don't
scare me, they threaten me,
        and when someone
feels threatened:
             they react in
a natural tribunal of effort...
  when the arguments threaten
you fear confiscates
   the dire need of death
being an alpine promise...
      and the such...
you rob me of fear,
you instill a pragmatic of death,
like the Jew paid his alimony
  what the suffered under the **** crimes...
of course,
the numbers matter....
the Marshall plan in neutral Sweden...
              or what the Poles
    got with Communism...
Jew... barricades... barricades!
messerschmitt teuton krähe schwarzkreuze,
   love your neighbour as yourself:
that too died on the cross...
   and i was but a peasant in Warsaw,
and Warasaw was but a village...
                     something worth ******* on...
and it was the ****'s worth of geography
for merely being there.
       it's there... something akin to be odd...
               i have, oddly enough, no allegiance...
i'm bound to being dreamy...
          so called lazy...
   the next best thing...
                 right now the Jews matter,
i took no deutsche marks from the swabian schweine...
             the jews did...
               jews... they did...
                     blondas *kurva trop!
happy retirement and Hannukah...
you crass-case of albino...
                  alias neo-deutsche!
                          austrjak jebany palmą!
w głowe, jebudiet!
   Wengier! hu ha dusza, i świntosiek
                  duch, i iskra, i łamana
                          świca...
         serce mi da tą ziemie:
   i ja tą ziemie dam w cheć na
pogoń, zwane zając!

nie dla narodu, z kochanej, e, u, ro, py...
pierdole ten cyrk!
ja, niby, polok...
o to ten huj, iskra huja w pizdzie i pizde mi
na kilo jabłek potem wgryść, rozdać i sie
tylko śmiać... Jarkowski, jebany,
       Kowalski, zapomniany...
           Jazurelski: troche i coś odtąd nie tak...
czyli, ricochet, echom czy apropos?
         bo to cynic: prawde mę, to samo co prawde mlą.
hej stop to warto obgadać jako: gnój!
          i szmira, i obowiązek... niby...
   ale skupowisko nie-urzytków, tzn. słów...
rodzinka sie wkurwi na widow mnie!
    no, po prostu wkurwi!
              oj, hyba że ja ponowny Szo'pę,
i kres mego serca na łałel... via W unto V
or: Vienna.
                      as cheap as the joke can be made,
or as plastic and extending as it allows itself
to be...
             taaak, bluźnie:
        bo mi na pacierz nie wypada...
kler: zegnam sie, panie sługo... zegnam sie...
paciorek i tymianek... gówno wśród nas!
to wszystko przez
           braku ari de verci....    
  albo quo vadis -
              ryj!                 i gleba.

chór! i duch!
               blady... rym...
ale i też wygoda powrotu
jako niby żyd... bo
te paluski... i ten *lajkonik...
kiev w warszawie... na
tym tle: bo to gwar gadania
i autobus w pizdzie nocy i
zimy... ceka... ceka.

   o bodziem...
  punk kot w czekam
i czoło i glebe i rys islamu,
   i szkło skalu w czaszke
i gołote... i ten... pierdolony kosciół!
goły... naked...
         the cat weighs about 10 kilograms
i'm obviously going to head-**** him
to say good morning...

rrrrrryb ah! koscioł! groto i smród!
rekąpis!                   ryba! flu flu flu!
oj tu: pingwin sie zgina! huj! bra!
   tu! zeżre te polsche... te polsche...
zerwie z nią... bo co?
jakie narodziny mam, "celebrować"?
ja na typ o motłoch? baba?!
taki typ by na miet i slóp -czysłav?!
pats! prostak z... miasta...
  chleba mało... tsa zebrać...
seplień seplień se o se: nago
      i choroba... gniew... grób;
padaj! jak gwóźdz w trumne
czy tam gówno w toalete...
       tsa u... tu com sa, tam com sa...
ja na wygnań!
        ja wygnany, co mi te poloki?
półtłoki? boli, nie? zyh poza granicą,
tam, dam ci kwit i... kćuka!
                 kćuka! na witaj huju!
potem -senką: za casów Herod'a...
  co sfe: pio... senką; taki tanz: oi! ola ola o!

taki zemnie polok, jaki ten
pierw żyd, co pyta:
  
  pytam... bo czekam...

(choir and [the] ghost).

    warto pytać, oto wiem że o nic nie czekam
(nie czekam o nic... po? nie czekam o nic...
po prostu czekam; tak tak, nic nici nić nitka nikt;
kurvfa shoelaces... you ******* deaf
or watching kochaj albo rzuć?       );
tym warte pytać of -zyk-
kiedy nie w... kraju...  or-zelek... or-zelek...
              taki kwaśniewski co tylko sepleni...
blah blah blah... potem na gniew
vay vest vey kal it a p-cle... susumber: or cueue...
         oi oi! wrona! hej! wrona!              co tam?!
eh, ten rojs siber tesz popierdolony...
rrrrreeee lee, wrona! co tam?
o kurva... terz troche... mmm uhum... mm... eh?
   is bez powrotu... taki... niby...
dobry fason i wybór słów
    jako dobry wójek... po glebie jak po
grzbiecie psa...
ah ten pysk.... taki dobry pies
mógł być, a potem, nagle, naturalnie:
wściek! pyska... harem! harem!
         harem! grypa! grypa! ugh!
                                golem!
    co tam wyrośnie, to tam nigdy nie było...
ani cebula co płacze, ani
           burak któremu zęby
   wypadają...
      oś? czy... osa? i z tym językiem
bez tego języka gwarancji?
            taki jam obcy...
   ja nawet obcy gadać obcym... do perfekcji...
jaki to musi być nud... aby było
              jak to musi być, skoro jest?
    last time i checked... pretty **** awful.

this is where our adventures begin to warm up, they burst diagonally, stretched seams. Opened wide, blistering under this caustic and virile heat. The epicenter of someone's bi-polar anomaly-

swarms of words and their words
people coming and parting,
coliseums and amphitheaters in spectacle
garnet, draped in praise

as upsetting and down-troche of what those blue sapphire lumens grew
against the pale and sinewy shadow of shape flickering,
violet cartoon faces bruising up their faces in the pulp and pulchritude
where two separate identities meet and coerce the familiar into seeing

at what it conceives. The diplopic opera and didactic vapidness in
the horrendous aperture of the inexhaustible and mercurial sport.
Then to see as the other half lives, compartmentalized in the
curious cabinetries of disorder

no kurwa...
         o!
           jebana mać...
pac!               łabądź!    
skryty kurwa kto?
           no,
         no-ble-blah-blah
ah bocian to
              kurwa to samo?
     chujem pierw,
i irokezem na
               warszawe:
grut;
               na granicy...
           w mundurze szfed...
                   no dobra...
łysa, pała...
                  tematem:
      boom boom
i rejs...
                cekaj cekaj...
                 ryba, i płód...
    no, chyba ryba fer
i to: moze...
              bo inaczej
     nie, troche, marnie?
no to ***... pingwina
            dziub,
                 i łokieć na zgin;
ryba ryba, arbo...
          chyba chyba...
        chujem po ścianie;
                    szczaniem.