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Mateuš Conrad Dec 2019
.the industrial age is over... i sometimes forget when the middle-ground was made into a sentence... the antichrist, or the demigod son of Hephaestus... the satanic push... to lever the molten iron: over... salt / silicon mines! gears up! industry and the satanic industries... perhaps... just... perhaps... now softcore industry of: etertainment rubrics... sewn underwear from the genesis that they were always going to be: export, MADE IN CHINA... this... grand ideal... but coming along with my bucket and spades... i knew that already, come 1994 in st. augustine's primary school... i had the sponge ****** mind ready to slurp the bubbles of ferocity sally scandals... post-soviety ex-satellite state civi? quasimodo was always going to give me the thumbs up... but when the bells rang... they started ringing for no injunction of a need to 'en masse'... there was a fire... a quiet innocent fire... but all the fingers started pointing...

politics, this most feral sport...
perhaps... "ars politico"?
the art of politics?

right now... boxing seems like a civil sport...
perhaps the damage is not written well
into the events...
but at least the audience is tamed...
probably by bets...
or other forms of decorum...
but in this sport of rhetoric?
in politics?
i don't see how... i don't see how i can
ooh and ah like a douglas murray...
although i'm a big fun of...
almost every homosexual talking...
it's like... that one aspect of ******...
i would have: if i could have...
not have a *******...

said sir lancelot onan jr....:
i have never met a woman...
who could... hand-job / ****-me-off
a prince william better than i...
it's a sad truth when you come across
specimens of women who only known
how to YANK and never... DOODLE
the phallus... with the ******* still
intact...
and *** and *** is just a ******* formality...

darwinism is the modern reinvention
of the copernican ooh-ah!
if copernicus did so: as an "independent"...
Galileo came along with his
mighty telescope... and the martyr's cushioned
seat... while some Greek...
to "us": unknown...

******* is older than beer...
that's my habit...
i look at women in "niqabs" performing
these lolly-pop acts...
and all i see is the niqab...
ninjas of islam mothers of the true believers...
is there something wrong in...
watching others pleasure themselves...
now: **** would be wrong...
if... i somehow managed a proud richie
if... it were... a woman being skinned...
if it was a circumcision of man's phallus...
performed by an iron maiden
gimmick ***...
then i'd be worried...

like that sound-proof of: you're not
in the company of a psychopath...
when someone yawns... you yawn with them...

ostrowiec swietokrzyski is a forgotten town,
once the allure of metallurgy...
because rust belt only happens in
h'america... because the mines only close down
in england... these people were also:
people of the metal...
western europeans "think" that we
moved... because... m'eh...
your metallurgy meccas closed...
ours... "ours"... didn't?!

darwin is the modern version of
medieval copernicus...
and i'm pretty ******* sure...
the ancient greeks, in their childish solipsism...
had a quasi-darwin to begin with...

i'm tired of hearing this worth of ****:
there's not enough toilet paper
to match up with the 111 of wiping your ***
with the index, middle and ring finger's
worth of: grafitti!

but at least boxing is a sport that still
demands a variant of ethics...
there's gloating prior...
but catch a skiving ******* gloating
after... doktor dentist herr sadist is...
waiting... parlor no. 2...
you can simply hear a faint grip
of the christmas carol he's singing...
'i'll hang you on a noose of
poor's joe's intestines i dissected:
** ** **...'
you get the idea where no jokes
comes from?

no sport ethic teaches the contestants
to gloat... to gloat is to be fat...
to be a glutton... no one likes...
people gloating after the facts...
like no one is expecting to hear much
about: the heliocentric contra the geocentric
argument...

i beg to disagree... people have a hand
in endearing the geocentric argument...
in the anglophonic realm...
what have we not heard of in the past
2 years beside brexit, trump?
so... there's a heliocentric model...
that's working? or aren't we still
left liberated by a geocentric model of
the now and the in-between?!

last time i chanced the argument...
nothing "west" of mars...
perhaps "north" of jupiter...
again: what's the copernican "west"...
what's the copernican "east"?
i'm still a ***** ******* remnant
of ****** pact VARSUS... aren't i?
warsaw pact...
and so i am:
i am in england for no "apparent" reason...
the metallurgy advent of europe
ended... even under the soviet
umbrella you were... "influenced"...
only western europe gets to: bemoan?
begrudge?! nostalgia riddle itself an et off?!

- you can watch any other sport
and find less "grief" in it...

tennis! what is tennis willing outside
of politics?
the captivated audience...
esp. with the prime-minister's
q&a...

in football... any interference from
the crowd...
summary? a clause is passed...
pencil & paper muscles are flexed...
law comes into: from sleepy /
sheepish demands: a reality to abide
by, goal poasts are moved...

perhaps that's why boxing is a mythological sport...
it doesn't matter that the art... the sport...
doesn't take into consideration
the entire body... and even if the rules
"suggest" that the upper body canvas
is involved...
the boxing remains true:
as truth said: the interaction between
two fists, the head and a car crash
bound to some later... "investement"...

but at least boxing is a sport of pristine quality...
it can be celebrated...
with a fictive outlet...
the audience is involved but only involved
as a dasein: being there...
politics? i vote...
but i'm hardly ever going to fathom
being in parliament...

oh mein nett gott...
where is tennis and my tennis *****?
that game of: 7 rectangles...
and... at most... 11 referees...
and about 6 ball boys / girls...

ludo politico... this most feral sport...
come to think of it...
there's not much to think of...
but beside the sulking and the gloating...

once upon a time so abstract...
so abstract as there is nothing to abstract with

to exercise a will for the existence of a body...
beside having to justify talking
by simply thinking...

darwinism really has shaped events
of historical consideration to fill up the calendar...
that no amount of copernican gluttony and
gloating could ever surpass...

what was once intelligenstia vogue back
in the 15th century... via copernicus...
is once more intelligenstia vogue in this:
what year are we in?
darwin... darwinism outside of the anglosphere
of *******-tick-tock-******* is...
yet another frictive detail that acts
like sandpaper when attempted to fit into
a jean pocket of events...

it's rough around the edges...
and all this ontological borrowing from ape,
from lion, this ontological borrowing from
ants from... this microscope inside
a telescope... and otherwise... inverted...

i'm at the end of my road...
a most fractured example of what could
possibly be deemed human...
annals of worthwhile autobiographies
my ***...
merry christmas my ***...
this celebration is a bit of a *******-whipping...
i might as well die tomorrow and know
that only one man existed in all of history...
hardly a reason to curl into a foetus pose
a shadow and start biting into a corner
like some mouse for the celebration
of the birth of Leibniz or Kant...
nonetheless...

i am to celebrate... something that's
either a bad-*******-riddle-of-ad-nauseam...

or... how i'm the only person who would say:
you know they unearthed the nag hammadi
library back in 1945... and there's a correlation...
with the history of the jewish revolt against
the romans... written by an "integrated jew"...
a josephus ben matthias...
and how... that doesn't even matter?
because jesus wasn't playing
chinese whispers in the gospel of st. thomas...
and this is all just fine, fine; fine!

to celebrate a "birth" is to also...
make this "life"... what it is... "life" something only worth
the margins and minor notations...

what is relevant when cf. (comparing)
darwin to copernicus?
the awe fantasy ridden vogue of intellect,
the: darwinism is a square box that can fit
itself into any empty lodge of parchement...
a square can fit through a triangular shaped
hole... darwinism can...
be all and end all...
we don't need any continental
existential complexity... we do not need
any 20th century existential ontology...
as long as we have... an explanation readied
via darwinism... a simple 1 + 1 = 2...

i, robot; you - don't care...

Kant is still holding the spot for: bachelor of the year...
215th year coming...
Kierkegaard is a shy second...
but Kant is something akin to
what the Muhammedians would call...
the unison of all five...
the Shahadah is the categorical imperative...
Salat: to think is to pray...
Zakat: to not speak is to give alms...
Sawm: to not think about food is to fast...
(or keeping the motto...
i eat to live... i don't live to eat)
Hajj: ha ha! Paris! or... to go where you're
supposed to be...
rather than... expect others for you to be at...
to not be a tourist! a hajj implies:
be not a tourist! expect to be made unwelcome...
come with a purpose...
that deviates from the purpose of
a stated origin to be made purposive
by you going there!
hajj! don't be a tourist!

i have always found some relief in Islam...
like any Romford bound lad...
Ronnie O'Sullivan...
christianity? not after having unearthed
the nag hammadi library...
not after the words have remained
coincidental... not after 1945...
not after WHERE the nag hammadi library was found...
not after the powers-at-be
attempted to "confuse" / hide the nag hammadi
library as a distinct yet: simultanoeus event
coinciding with the dead sea scrolls...
not after the each quwaitii became a oil rich
baron sheikh... not became the pakistanis
and the bangladeshi decided: **** it working
slave hours in Dubai...

Lawrence of Arabia citation of Islam...
i will fake it... the christianity...
but i doubt to ever have a pillow to lie on...
i am pretty sure i will not make it...
i know the allure of islam...
i know the allure of islam when...
if only some genuine friend of this faith came
across me... before that farce of a friend
worth the psychopath's lying ferret's woo
of an Egyptian... with time:
no... no! no healing!

Islam is younger... christianity is...
how many schisms?
prune, pseudo-buddhist...
catholic, protestant... unitarian...
bishopric baptist... calvinist...
it's a... monotheism...
but... given the many splinters?
i find it improbable to not treat it as a...
polytheism... how many times are most kind sirs
going to divide the ******* loaf?!
until we're no longer even eating crumbs?!

christianity to me is a polytheism:
given the number of times it has divided itself up!
it's a cancer growth spectacular, al fresco!
i can only thank the protestants for this...
poly-divison...
after all... there was only one schism in islam...
and that's the allure!
because i am neither: Iraqi prone...
Iranian il allahu blah blah blahlah ural "who who"...

skin? or tattoo?
i have seen christianity die...
no one wants to talk of the nag hammadi library,
honestly... this is a ******* major event!
the media contest: the unearthing of
the dead sea scrolls is a synonym:
of an event that doesn't even happen...
the dead sea scrolls is an event relating
the death of the prophet Isaiah...
being disemboweled... being a courtesan...
guess what!
if no one is going to be ghost-forsaken
and salted-soul honest!
irish proud etc.! guess what...
like unto like: do as they do!

plus all this anglosphere wet-***** darwinism...
how the ****, did darwinism just hijack all
the arms of the humanities...
everything has to be explained with darwinism...
good! because if every cul de sac of life
was to be explained using copernicus...
imagine!

not even newton is a celebrated
scientist these days...
not even michael faraday...
but darwin is!
everything has to come down to
a darwinism - a branch of darwinism...
there's only one narrative:
a biological / psychological narrative...
how could a mythology surround
a Herr Faust / a Pan Twardowski...

england skipped the myth of the chemist...
the alchemist:
sure... william "Christopher Marlowe" shakespeare
tried to "catch-up"...
the english imagination was lost to king
arthur and the glories of:
being conquered by Rome...
of having been part of an ancient history...
last time i checked... us central europeans...
the germans, the goths, the vandals, the aesti...
the great migration types from the Causcus...
we... we didn't share the bounty of this history...
we're again: the barbarians at the gates...
us, slaves... with this sound-encoding and our
own distinctions: our caron S and caron C...
to sneak-in the tetragrammaton...

and who are, the Italiano?
do the Italians even recognise ancient Rome?
do the English truly recognise the...
what's that artifact... the Stonehenge?
ha! ha ha ha ha!
by joke alone...

darwinism's plague on everything cultural!
everything has to be a reminder of:
genes! gene narratives!
everything has to become a propability
gambit! everything has to be sacrificed upon
quasi-religious statements of: why you should,
rather than: why you shouldn't be feeling
so ******* grateful for a per se...

to me... darwinism is... a neo-copernicanism...
a stylish vogue rhetoric...
you can wear darwinism in the 19th to the mid 21st century...
afterwards? it's just a timid burn on the brain
to have to "argue" trans-generational
sensibility patterns of being the labelled:
made in western liberal free "ouch" spice society...

i can side with islam on two grounds...
who were the janissaries?
Murad I would have retorted:
who were the Jesuits?
if not by foundation, the hands of Ignatius of Loyola?
when who were the Mamluks?
my western neighbors love to...
designate my grand ethnic "etymology"
within the framework of the eaten E...
i.e. a slav(e)...

why would i side... with this... variant...
this... "variant" of "christianity"...
for a ******* carol-song-***-by-*******-yah
hard-on quest?!
you heard them...
old saxons vs. new blut saxons in
an orchestra of zeppelins hanging over london!
or... the lagoon as i like to call it...

check you "history" your etymology...
oh... because "they" would correct "misunderstood"
etymology... with a counter:
akin to the ethnonym -
loan words baron!
it's just "a missing E"...

it's still mainstream darwinism...
i imagine the years under the Polish-Lithuanian
commonwealth...
the Ukranians must have been like...
enough! enough of this Copernicus ******* already!
Ave Khmelnitsky!

after all... copernicus was right...
the sun does not move around the earth...
the earth moves around the sun...
copernicus was right... we were wrong...
the earth moves around the sun...
but... the affairs of the sun...
are not... the affairs of the earth...
and those... bound... to inhabit it...
the sun is important...
but... soap opera triviality is...
somehow... more... important...
drama of the callous nature of man...
is... more than... the vacuum riddle bundle
of billions of years is...
with its... mere H-to-He exchange of gaseous
bundle warmth...

one thing that governs my cruelty toward
how darwinism is exploited to fit
every ******* crevice of everyday life...
that one's: its supposed universality...

but then... this trans-genus trans-species
"comparative literature"...
it's not enough to be imitating ape...
again: which ape?
the chimp alone? the gorilla?
the ******* macaque?
why would i devolve...
having the body of a gorilla?
a gorilla could wrestle a lion to the death...
i, albino quasi gremlin bonkers IQ...
get to... pet a bonsai tiger!
yay!

two things went wrong when it came
to... "people, thinking"...
vogue ideas...
the copernican revolution...
and the... revolution of darwinism...
oh we can forget about marx...
we all know what was wrong about that...
i'm pretty sure some greek knew that already...
but we're stalling...
for **** know's what...
since: not being vular by now is not going
to help the "clarification of verbiage
over civilised tea and scones later" either...

if only these darwinist concentrated on
the source material...
but... to throw into this "existentialism"
a mix of peering with scrutiny at an ant colony...
at bacteria... at tapeworms...
and... somehow... being...
once more... the center of the universe...
of analytical diarrhoea?
in a heliocentric schematic?
**** me... are you sure...
this heliocentric argumentation was only so good...
as good as... when you didn't have to
navigate a west and an east...
on a map...
going through the Rhine valley...
via Antwerp... via Essen...
via Dortmund on the autobahn?

again... what's a copernican "east"?!
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
title: the what
body: or? what?!


i always wondered how it is that people see
images when asleep... vast architectures of dreams...
even this phenomenon of the recurrent dream:
what an alien concept: people have recurrent dreams?
like what: they're school children...
sitting in a classroom having to learn on repeat
a lesson they haven't learned the first time round?
it must be like that... a cosmic "deity" is sending
them a... electric bill reminder: or something?
i dream so little... i once bemoaned this...
but if i hear a words being uttered in dream...
if i see a word... let's say... i'm content...
                but i sort of figured it out...
   in the distance... while perched on the windowsill...
i "accidently" squinted my left eye while having
closed my right eye... squinted it and peered
at a street lamp in the distance...
         wow... the light splintered... obviously
the source of light remains intact...
but by squinting my eye... a beam of light races to me...
but no... not directly into my eye...
the source of light is directly present in my eye...
this beam of light... it travels... to my forehead...
my brain? just above my eye... into me...
do i have a third eye? is it closed: implying that's
the reason i do not have visual dreams?
well... it's not that i'm wholly ignorant of certain
matters... i would be ignorant of certain matters
if i had recurrent dreams...
   no cosmic "deity" is sending me mail... via dreams...
it probably figured: no need to bother him...
he's quiet content with being awake:
he'll probably find that... by squinting his eye...
he'll see where light travels to...
  he'll probably find out that he has a third eye...
then he'll realise that... he's not getting my mail...
because it (the third eye is closed), which will tell him:
he's content with his life, with his being...
              no self-help guru is going to touch his
   auspicious disposition...
well... i guess that's about right...
                whatever the science is... the brain is a sponge
of electric currents... it short-circuits
when a person is asleep and the unconscious pretends
to be consciousness and... conjures up dreams...
because that's how the unconscious pretends to be
consciousness... i.e. conjuring dream architecture
for the sleeper... no... i'm not interested in an objective
language... i've heard too much objective language
when doing 3 years of a chemistry degree...

oh but the more poignant point...
     how many years was it... for a 21 year old boy...
boy... clearly not a man...
  to get over his first "love" (the first best **** of his
life... and being torn from it)...
  the years of a ****-less desert... or just timid "lovers"...
14... years... and finally...
ah... a new chapter... hmm... love is less hard-hitting
this time... my head doesn't come off...
my heart has a steady beat... sure... sometimes
the stomach and intestines give in to something
that's outside the realm of superficiality...
of idealism... but it's a different sort of "butterflies"...
some butterflies are actually moths...
they are warning cramps...
          the hot flusters are there... that's when the moths
come... the stomach cramps created by the moths
are a way of providing me with a warning:
this girl is a bad idea... even she's telling you that she's
a bad idea... the people in your vicinity say
she's a bad idea... she's nice to strangers... but it's a mask...
perhaps she was only nice to strangers because
she worked with you and noticed how you treated
everyone equally... and... what you actually saw?
a show... an act... because she was in your presence...
otherwise she wouldn't behave like she did...
double-cross... back-stabbing... political in the sense
of: puny-politics of in-group and out-group preferences...
oh... mind you: the retreat...
she knew she ****** up... but you nonetheless didn't
confront her about a rumour... against you...
you did the opposite... to ploughed forward with a charm
offensive... oh the sweetness of the retreat...
because... she just started looking ridiculous...
those are the moths... you get flustered... for a reason...
you learn to fall in love like a boy again...
if she's putting on an act... hmm... you put on act...
                 beautiful... this sieve... to separate the bull-*******
from the authentic people...
mind you... the butterflies do come...
but they're not the same as when you were younger...
you have to work on stamina of the... ahem...
"certain parts" of the anatomy that are essential
to copulate... the butterflies come... sort of in reverse...
you get butterflies from merely thinking about:
giving a good bedroom performance...
and the many tricks involved in doing just that...
fasting... but eating a heavy loaded diary meal in between
two extreme exercise sessions on a bicycle...
30 minutes each... drinking white wine...
taking your time to get to location... walk a bit...
buy a small sample of brandy... relax...
   get rid of any possible thought...
              eyes wide open... no need to invoke the heart...
keep it the size of a pebble...
and no... thinking about nothing will not suddenly
make your head to get chopped off with some
wild ideas that this encounter might go somewhere
like: a house, 2 children a dog... holidays together...
whatever...
               the butterflies are a preparation tool...
once... my first ever girlfriend...
          we went on a date... well... sort of... it wasn't a "date":
it was a DAY... a day-date...
art gallery... cinema... Troy just came out...
then to a sushi bar...
           it was an entire day...
                        it was a glorious 2004 summer...
we were so young... so innocently young...
                 i took her to the train station... hugged...
then a former "friend" of mine called me and said...
she said that when she hugged you...
she had the butterflies... blah blah...
so i called her up... started dating... thank god it was
at the end of high school...
i literally had no drama in high school...
then again... it was a Catholic school...
we were all in strict uniform all the time...
   that's always good... drama: esp. with women...
begins on the level of fashion...
                          send your children to a school with strict
school uniforms... point being...
the butterflies came after: for her...
now? butterflies come prior... anticipatory butterflies...
could i love... again?
what the hell is love? commitment? i tried that once...
no regrets... it's much better being the person being
rejected than doing the actual rejection...
i'm committed to keeping the cats fed, warm and healthy...
i'm committed to keeping the house tidy...
to ironing the shirts... to cooking meals...
i'm committed to taking care of people at football events
in stadiums... i'm committed to... looking very
******* presentable on the job... to the point where
i fixate on correcting my tie while someone in the audience
tells me i look sharp...
love? what the hell is that?
love is... when someone sticks around...
is that love? so love is not the little dramas...
the great ***?
the intimate:
eating-each-other's-eyes-with-each-other's-eyes?
love is not... eating each other's lips
with each other's lips?
love is not... what the tongues get up to
when the eyes are closed?
to be honest?
    if love is anything but the briefest encounter...
my god... what torture... or rather:
what boredom! perhaps i could love...
a deaf girl... i'm being serious... when i'm alone
in the house for a period of 2 weeks or longer...
i sometimes startle myself or rather:
the silence of the house... the house is startled
when i finally break down and speak with irritability...
why? because the cat is meowing too much...
who said that?!
                   well... when the neighbour comes round...
blah blah... but in general...
peace & love... peace & love... & solitude...

i can love: the smell of damp London in the Mile End
vicinity... i can love.... salted pork bagels
of Brick Lane... i can love... the emptiness
of Hyde Park... i can love the traffic from Romford
into Central London... cycling...
i can love a good curry... decent music...
i can love... feeling ***** throughout the whole
day being lazy and not washing myself until
the evening... which included my teeth...
taking a decent amount of ****... even diarrhoea...
a walk in the woods...
but... loving someone else? oh my god...
spare me... i'd like them to pass freely...
    that sort of love implies... also mourning them...
losing them... i don't want to love because
i don't want to mourn them...
       now... what this second encounter with great
*** has taught me... it's not love...
it's only a momentary attachment...
   no... this is "confusing"... to get dragged into "love"
with all the petty squabbles...
"planning"... whatever that might be...
sure... it would make life easier... if the bills are split...
someone does the cooking... someone does
the cleaning... blah-d-blah... but if i can do that
all by myself... love... for... what?
a ******* conversation? about what?
what is there to talk about... if you've been
a sort of monk from the age of 21... and still sort of are
aged 35... what... common language?
i could swear i'm en route to somewhere else...
en route: well... at least no one is going to mourn me...
that's a big relief...
    love... people throw this word around like
it has some mystical properties...
          my grandfather didn't understand it either...
he provided for his family and was treated like ****...
drove him to abuse alcohol...
he didn't drink prior to: something having happened...
oh... wait... i think i can pin-point it to:
my grandmother not wanting a third child
and getting an abortion instead...
         i'm just guessing... completely sober prior
to some event... whether it was that or not...
do i need that? i'd play along to... being the surrogate
father... much easier... mould the mind...
to hell with the body... again: what's love again?
abusing someone... because... now you get access
to their domestic routines and the diamonds galore
of meeting up and having *** is gone...
can't people do that: best... on their own?
          i don't remember being ever good at sharing
something with someone...
time... esp. time...
                              there's nothing better than walking
alone in the woods... or the fields in Essex...
never mind cycling alone... why... on earth...
would anyone require company... conversation:
to upset the gentle balance of the wind rustling
through the trees, ferns and bushes?
- need to reinforce my own ontology...
    by... god... i abhor the objective language of...
2nd? 3rd wave Darwinism?
maybe that's why i'm going down the existential
rabbit-hole of subjective-language...
the objective-language reality of 2nd? 3rd wave Darwinism
that now... merely focuses on the dating and mating
side of things... but has... absolutely no...
sense of wonder... about the natural world...
Darwinism in the mainstream no longer focuses
on... the external world... on sharks... on birds...
it's all internalised garbage ***** about who is:
and who isn't getting laid...
objective-language reality and all that fact spewing
*******... doesn't it become... sort of... tiresome?
it's sort of like the language of: astrology...
i'm hearing something... but... at the same time...
is this Mystic Meg from the tabloid The Sun shedding
light on... the prophecy for the zodiac sign: Taurus?
no good with a subjective-language reality?
life is a FACT... but not an EXPERIENCE?
wow...
              really? no one wants to hear the objective-language
of Darwinism: esp. in its current form...
reduced to the dating & mating flesh market...
after all... the original language of Darwinism...
it wasn't objective as such... it was a subjective-language
dynamic... it was a discovery: eureka!
i found something! look! look! as a theory:
it wasn't cold... it was... FRESH...
objectivity doesn't deal with excitement...
it's cool, calculated, repeated... firm... well established...
didn't Darwinism face backlash at first?
heated debates? ergo... it originated in a subjective-language
dynamic... no?
objective-language structures are what makes
pedagogy happen...
            but for something to be found to be original?
subjective-language structure is more becoming...
of how something is conveyed... expressed...
passed down... the modern take on Darwinism has
been hijacked by... popular psychology...
and... psychological adding up of data points...
the self-evident failures of the dating & mating
market monopoly by a... small percentage...
oh... the natural world is always the best excuse to use...
because... all those years of man trying to overcome
the natural world... ships to cross the seas...
aircraft to defy gravity... the invention of pencilin
to combat disease... pain-killers to block pain receptors...
yet... we're now... going back... way back...
men created certain ways to bypass...
natural discriminations... monogamy...
           once upon a time... Darwinism was once
a revival of the man-child ancient Greek philosopher
mentality: awe-struck... wow... look at this...
the original language was a subjective-language...
the use of objective-language came later... much later...
when the subjective truths / intuitions were to be later
tested... established... given to the rigour of...
something akin to mass-production...
   pedagogy... but the original language structure wasn't
objective... in the least...
hardly... now? Darwinism... "Darwinism" and the use it
has... in the modern world... it's all about ***...
no... no need to spare some thought-awe
for the Greenland shark...
   and his "funny" companion: the eye-parasite...
   Ommatokoita... yeah... the parasite attaches itself
to the shark's eyes... and slowly makes him go blind...
the shark lives for 120± years...
the shark itself? Somniosidae: sleeper shark...
                       in pop conversation... that's what?
Darwinism was supposed to be used to explain this...
not be weaponized for the dating & mating game...
i hate what Darwinism has become...
the natural world imploded... Darwinism "borrowed"
something from history: it wasn't supposed to borrow...
any new... spontaneous evolution?
we're in stasis... no new evolution in our lifetime...
i can guarantee that... well... unless you're going to talk
about single men... there's going to be lightning speed
re-adaptation methods in place:
the dodo project mentality...
   but Darwinism in its current format:
the objective-language reality... nothing's new...
spewing these psychology-mingling facts is a bit like...
reading yesterday's news for... about a week...
while at the same time... nothing is "supposed" to happen
a week from the day the news were being recited...
but the shark is sleeping in complete darkness anyway...
so... parasite? or is it rather... a symbiosis?
it doesn't matter whether he could see or not...
he couldn't see jack ****...
perhaps being blind allows the shark to live
much longer?

consequences? there's no returning to a subjective-language
Darwinism of... exploration...
the weight of the objective-language "Darwinism"
is... too annoying... because?
it has lost clues regarding... exploring the external world...
of focusing on nature...
it has been hijacked by en masse psychologism
of statistics...  herding... herding and... shackling
in... chicken cages...
            once upon a time Darwinism was like...
finding out about... navigation of the seas...
now? n'ah ah... Darwinism has become internalised...
weird that... internalised via an objective-language...
i can imagine something being internalised via
a subjective-language... but...
paradox: subjective-language externalises...
it doesn't internalise... objective-language internalises...
since... it's a drill-process...
why remember 1 + 1 = 2? not because it's a subjective "truth"...
it's an "objective" truth...
add a measure to the numbers... seconds... meters...
you get the picture...
that's why we think: i guess...
we internalise objective-language and why we externalise
subjective-language...
     or... to put it more simply...
            that's why we sometimes can't say certain things...
to externalise subjective-language?
sign-language... body language...
how we speak without speaking when using our
body... what's that? internalise objective-language...
surprise surprise when someone has
internalised subjective-language:
the casual expression is: they're speaking their mind...
no?
   my god... good thing i started reading
Sartre in English... that's what i'm here for...
to externalise objective-language?
that's how the current wave of Darwinism goes...
fact... or rather a BLITZKRIEG VON TATSACHE...
a lightning strike of fact!
   i won't use the plural... term for facts...
because? the singular implies a cascade, a: boom boom boom
rather than a tsunami of facts...
to externalise objective-language?
to regurgitate... to parrot... to read something and speak
it back to someone else...
never to think about it...
                how are the reins on the flow on this, Matthew?
i think i'm about to find closure...
people who don't read that much will
find this as a sort of a word-salad... i got that...
no need to think when reading:
or rather... perhaps thinking about something else...
when reading it... that's why i'm not going to make
any youtube videos... writing is a good sieve...
it keeps the idiots out... the ones that have
this irresistible need to speak to a camera:
but not a person...
  and what am i going to do? repeat my point(s)
again? like Sartre: "reinvent" the ******* circle?
i think i was pretty clear so far...
i'm going to take a selfie and send it to Khedra...
but unlike the normal selfie...
i'm going to take the whizz-kid selfie type of pointing
the camera at a canvas of glass... with my reflection
entombed in it... no... not inverted with the camera
looking at me... i'll be taking a photograph of the camera
looking with me... at something... well... me...
i'm not going to muddy the waters by the fabric of
reiteration: it will not prove my point any more...
job's done... i'm done...
i reached the zenith of my argument...
the modern interpretation of Darwinism *****:
***... big ***... elephant sized ***...
it is (an) internalised objective-language...
rubrics... pedagogy... the original was an externalised
subjective-language... where there was once awe,
suspense... now? nothing's new...
move on... nothing new to see...
******* menopause or...
myopia... or... a return to the geocentric reality
of the world... people still don't see it?
we've returned to a geocentric model of the world...
because of ****** frustrations...
and it's not like women are incapable of starting
wars... no... because Helen of Troy is just
a ******* myth... no no... just an innocent creature...
what caused the war was the hurt pride
of the brother of Agamemnon... Menelaus'...
yeah... that's what started the war...
not Helen's infidelity with a toy-boy fling of Troy...
thank god the matter was settled between
Hector and Achilles...

i'm not going to be ****** and reiterate...
i made my point...
if it's not clarified already... then i think you...
probably can't be my contemporary...
i'll need some necromancy readers...
people who might understand me when i'm dead...
i never expected to be understood by people who...
just so it happens... are alive... while i'm alive...
fat chance of that happening...
i sometimes try to give directions to people
and they are insistent on not waiting...
while i try to conjure up a map of my locality...
an before i can give them directions they
assume: oh... you're not a local...
drive off... *******... wait wait...
i'm walking these streets with a can of beer...
what's the ******* hurry?!
can i have a minute or two?
i'm not a local... even though... i perfectly know
the timing on some of the traffic lights...
at junctions... o.k.: whatever...
people in a hurry... are usually people with
nowhere to go...
yeah, sure... be free... whatever...
you're apparently as much needed elsewhere as
the place you just left: asking for directions...

god... bring me more of these sort of people...
the type of people i can tell to ******* without telling
them to *******...
i'm starting to love it.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2016
they (yeah, the paranoid pronoun, esp. in how it's used for abstract coordinates, concretely? conformists) decided it was easier to fill a psychiatrist's gob with my presence, and for psychiatrists to pay the mortgage with someone who they termed schizophrenic, forgetting the fact that the person in question was bilingual - odd how humanists confuse bilingualism with schizophrenia, maybe a coin flip later and we'd get biphrenic? that's pushing it, but it just might work to describe an atom evolved into a human form... basically in two places at the same time: confederacy of archaeological theology - and by being in two places, behaving differently in each stated sphere of observation... that's it though! theology translates as archaeology in science, excavating the designation of the argument of the spider and the spiderweb, the perfect yoga instructor, one position fits all... because scientific positivism is dead... it's dead... we're experiencing a transition into scientific negativism, mainly because there's a plumber's conundrum of a blocked fact-machine... which turned out to be a fat-machine... we're just hearing the same ****, over and over again.

i never knew it, but when humanism was born
it came across the challenges of
Darwinism (Aristotle's footnote),
with all due respect for humanism
though,
             humanism gave us
the most apathetic formulation of
any faith at all...
and do you see a rebellion happening
anywhere concerning this?
i see a bunch of ****-naked Amazonian
nomads singing the huh? huh?! song...
esp. when they see safety-hats and
tractors... me? i live in the
outer suburbs of a Greek city-state...
when you're walking down the
street and see a bare chested driver
of a tractor, and a loser (me) drinking beer
while the police pass by in their cruiser
and don't give a ****... well...
welcome to the Fe (iron) Fe Fe feral land...
(almost a sneeze, but not quiet)
metro-****** pinkies anywhere?
no... root that **** into your brains
you urban wankers... stay there,
rot... keep up the debauchery of
Beckton's recycling centre...
oh sure, keep the theatres open,
with Simon & Garfunkel applause of song...
like ballerinas and fat operas needed
an exercise regime...
Darwinism is brutal enough,
it's brutal, it's not pretty,
looking at it from a creationist perspective
you'll only get brutality from it,
only an Zimbabwe born englishman would
care to champion it... oh look!
a monkey ******* a ferret!
i cried today... my female cat was inspired
when a squirrel started doing gymnastics
on my garden fence, one paw tucked against
its chest... i haven't seen a squirrel in my
garden for a while, i've shown her a hedgehog
once, but a squirrel? try catching a squirrel!
it's like catching the ******* of a mosquito
wearing boxing gloves... or Zeno...
i cried my eyes out, by a squirrel...
acrobatic rats that hate throngs...
the simplest of things bring the greatest of joys,
and a consistency in thinking about
death make the simple assurances of mortality
so much more appreciated...
of course i think about death... why wouldn't
i? so this homeless man has a tent...
they're dragging them in, he says:
i haven't done anything wrong...
the military-industrial complex isn't secular at all...
psychiatrists are the complex's priests...
they're looking for subjects to ensure they earn
while giving oral *** to pharmaceutical companies...
and that's the *cul de sac
truth -
no, wait... humanism's religious doctrine is
Darwinism, can't deviate from that,
keep a kettle and a sun on the same timescale,
i'm Caribbean lazy though...
you with beer and joint, me with beer and another
and another beer and an Apache echo impression
of echoing-yawn,
we have evolved past mating calls of animals...
all we have are warring calls... la la la for simplicity...
or in verse of new Zealander Haka:
                           ****, have no funny lyrics...
where was Darwinism when mating calls became
subtle and we exchanged mating calls for warring chants?
where was Darwinism then?
you telling me i have to own a watch, a mansion,
a nice car and enough money for a child's private
education to make one at all? pretty subtle
and all the more less colourful... you can ask me:
where was god when the Holocaust happened...
i'd reply: where was a decent joke?
apparently Moses died from laughter...
now i'm stuck with having to proof read
the first print of my book... that's going to be
agonising... i hate rereading my work...
and aren't we in a standing still position,
on an escalator, or the journalists are gullible,
i mean they're worse than pigs, they're eating
regurgitated facts... they're the ones that always
end up saying: if it ain't broken, break it...
that's their magnum opus fixation, and
the recycling bin... that's what they're there for,
i bet you a hundred quid that Putin's tears
would have turned into diamonds if they fell
on St. Basil's onion domes...
all these ****-incubating-real-emotion
calculators of the English parliament are worth
a psychiatric sketch show... punchline?
you ain't ever ever getting out, ha ha!
Darwinism is cruel, and people sort of like
the whips of a static history, sometimes they come back
to the 17th century and make a television program,
sometimes they have a chance encounter
to cite something from the only century that can
be experienced with anatomical dissection skill:
namely the 20th, or to be accurate, the 2nd half
of the 20th century... most of the time they haven't
the foggiest about history these days,
they're either electron-clouds of electron-orbits,
ping-pong between these two conceptions...
they're always pro-neutral (proton-neutron
centre) - and indeed the tetragrammaton invested
in Ke$ha... ka-ching! sz sh sharpener of wit...
got to love tactical pop, or the caveman ontological
obituary of buying alkaline batteries...
i bought alkaline batteries last year,
which technically makes me a caveman...
compact disks make me a caveman...
books make me a caveman... i'm a ******* caveman!
drag my woman by her hair...
what a great Darwinism provides,
we're all comparatively stone-age...
i love how we just made all history between that
into cf. snippets, and how the caveman attitude
is supposedly a ****** pill to supercharge our
attitudes into beastly thumps and gurgles and
elbows up the **** thrills...
Darwinism is cruel, Darwinism is currently the
theology of humanism... but once upon a time
the religious aspect (or in humanism's behaviour prescription)
was ascribed to one hour on Sunday...
now we're sorta stuck in a church, 24 / 7...
now we're all our own ritual makers...
we have the holy communions of buying a certain
type of coffee in a shop, or it's called curry Friday
and Saturday takeaway randomisation,
gathering the ready-meals Sunday to Thursday...
everyone having the busiest of lives...
if religion is dead, then i must be a nun.
i don't think Darwinism actually attacked theology...
some people are proper pranksters with
the notion that Darwinism attacked theology,
some get to play Jesus in some biblical theme park...
what i think Darwinism damaged, primarily,
is history... if journalists keep spanning
historical references from here & now and
that greatest ontological excuse: caveman once,
Chanel model no. 2, we'll surely sell many
more shaving equipment tools and sanity pills as we go
along into 24h / insomnia society...
me? i'm out... i'll be keeping my imagination
honed toward the Faroe Islands, along with my sanity.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
what you have with me is a
non-diaviating dogmatism of
the units of language,
common colloquial says is
at best attuned: black is black,
white is white.
i have a dogmatism surrounding
this...
i''m very rigid in the term a priori,
and in so saying: darwinism
  has no a apriori benefactor
to challenge me...
   i'm rigid in words
    on the basis that's i do not
accept the thesaurus manifesto...
  the game of synonym and antonym
will not make me write a better novel,
i just think that's *******.
      the problem with darwinism
attracting a higher status
      than the miser narcissus quote
of looking into **** similis
leaves the biodiversity of monkeys
paramount above the biodiversity
of other species of animals...
i acknowledge darwinism,
but as science clearly says:
it can never reach the rigidity of
being deemed an a priori certainty...
modern man's rebellion is
against darwinism forcing itself
into the a priori regiment...
as a scientific theory darwinism can't
do just that...
     darwinism is solely
    a posteriori in terms of
conceptualisation... i have no beginning
as man qualifying myself as being
monkey-borne,
i don't have enough time to
       conceptualise such a beginning
with all its viable ceonceits as modes
to state a groundwork to an ontological basis...
worthy of execution...
         to a satisfactory basis...
     darwinism can't exist in the a priori
sphere, because science cannot either...
               darwinism can't equate
itself with theology,
on the simple premise that there's a suffix
-logy involved...
                       and the rest belongs
to the archives of mutilated language...
                or the mutilation of, should i be exact
in the dicta.
                 i cannot be born with
an innate predisposition to state that i am
of money origin...
          primarily because the monkey has adapted
in such a way, as to be so life affirming of its
existence that i'd be in no way similar
in this genesis, as i am bound to affirm the
  life prerogatives of a peacock dancing to the mating
call of a female peacock...
intellectually speaking i'm bound to experience
an intellectual shortcoming and a
               desert of worded experience...
the modern narcissus is the darwinist disciple...
                  i can't see anything more
abhorring than that...
                       to the conclusive demise:
making any history makes no sense,
the 18th century? makes no sense,
given we've been prescribed the platitude...
and the stoppage of time...
                   originating from **** similis
makes us no more noun-denotative
acquiresome of **** sapiens than the
byproduct that is **** insapiens...
                            i know the history is there,
and all the facts are there... but given our
current day-to-day... there's no bias for it making
our lives any different in terms of it having
any effect on us to say otherwise...
                      darwinism forgets that it behaves
like any  a posteriori fabric
                     in a way that it wants to become
rigid... but not rigid in a sense that
you might cling to a posteriori becoming
rigid for an equivalent of a one-man
  table-tennis match.... or *******...
  i mean darwinism doesn't have a place in
the a priori in the first place,
it can't be as pristine as space & time, god & nothing
care to allow it to be...
    i have a life-span of a maximum of 100 years...
i can't make history and tell it from the epoch
of dinosaurs to suit the right sort of palette...
    darwinism isn't inherent (a priori) in me...
it's scientific, therefore a posteriori in me...
                 it's sometimes called being stubborn,
or it's sometimes called communal slack...
      even if taken to the court, i can't defend darwinism...
what i can say is that: enough prayers left
at the darwinian altar has left me a david Attenborough
in the pornographic industry spectacle...
because why can't i be as **** similis as i care
not to be **** sapiens?!
                 the basic fact is that i have obscured
the thesarus in my lexicon...
                 i have made certain words rigid...
opposite of making a chair goo and custards...
it's a rigidness that i expect to spar with,
       i need the stability...
   and this makes me the shadow-man...
because i can't compete for a pulpit and a freedom
to speak... i can't!
    i am bound to shadows and book-worms...
and am for the better for it to be so gravitating me toward
the grave...
      i can't say darwinism exists a priori because i just
can't...
                        i say that because biology is the sole
science that does away with mathematical language...
             biology has no actual need for numbers,
          it has no need for He meaning helium...
it has no need for the laws of physics...
when physicists try to find the glue...
biology is already immersed in the glue...
                    biology doesn't need numbers...
yet it's there: eating up book after book in the domain
of history, fiction and poetry...
           the a priori implant of god is so much
easier to forget in the medium of thought
than establishing the a posteriori implant of god
that you simply don't think about...
i have about a hundred Islamic terrorists to testify...
   i don't understand this attack on the a priori
stronghold of certain ideas being sanctimonious...
  darwinism cannot reach the pinnacle of a priori
inquiry simply because it begins with an a posteriori
requisite...
                            which is why the whole affair
went to court... with the monk
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2017
what you have with me is a non-diaviating dogmatism of
the units of language, common colloquial says is
at best attuned: black is black, white is white.
i have a dogmatism surrounding
this...
i''m very rigid in the term a priori,
and in so saying: darwinism
  has no a apriori benefactor
to challenge me...
   i'm rigid in words
    on the basis that's i do not
accept the thesaurus manifesto...
  the game of synonym and antonym
will not make me write a better novel,
i just think that's *******.
      the problem with darwinism
attracting a higher status
      than the miser narcissus quote
of looking into **** similis
leaves the biodiversity of monkeys
paramount above the biodiversity
of other species of animals...
i acknowledge darwinism,
but as science clearly says:
it can never reach the rigidity of
being deemed an a priori certainty...
modern man's rebellion is
against darwinism forcing itself
into the a priori regiment...
as a scientific theory darwinism can't
do just that...
     darwinism is solely
    a posteriori in terms of
conceptualisation... i have no beginning
as man qualifying myself as being
monkey-borne,
i don't have enough time to
       conceptualise such a beginning
with all its viable ceonceits as modes
to state a groundwork to an ontological basis...
worthy of execution...
         to a satisfactory basis...
     darwinism can't exist in the a priori
sphere, because science cannot either...
               darwinism can't equate
itself with theology,
on the simple premise that there's a suffix
-logy involved...
                       and the rest belongs
to the archives of mutilated language...
                or the mutilation of, should i be exact
in the dicta.
                 i cannot be born with
an innate predisposition to state that i am
of money origin...
          primarily because the monkey has adapted
in such a way, as to be so life affirming of its
existence that i'd be in no way similar
in this genesis, as i am bound to affirm the
  life prerogatives of a peacock dancing to the mating
call of a female peacock...
intellectually speaking i'm bound to experience
an intellectual shortcoming and a
               desert of worded experience...
the modern narcissus is the darwinist disciple...
                  i can't see anything more
abhorring than that...
                       to the conclusive demise:
making any history makes no sense,
the 18th century? makes no sense,
given we've been prescribed the platitude...
and the stoppage of time...
                   originating from **** similis
makes us no more noun-denotative
acquiresome of **** sapiens than the
byproduct that is **** insapiens...
                            i know the history is there,
and all the facts are there... but given our
current day-to-day... there's no bias for it making
our lives any different in terms of it having
any effect on us to say otherwise...
                      darwinism forgets that it behaves
like any  a posteriori fabric
                     in a way that it wants to become
rigid... but not rigid in a sense that
you might cling to a posteriori becoming
rigid for an equivalent of a one-man
  table-tennis match.... or *******...
  i mean darwinism doesn't have a place in
the a priori in the first place,
it can't be as pristine as space & time, god & nothing
care to allow it to be...
    i have a life-span of a maximum of 100 years...
i can't make history and tell it from the epoch
of dinosaurs to suit the right sort of palette...
    darwinism isn't inherent (a priori) in me...
it's scientific, therefore a posteriori in me...
                 it's sometimes called being stubborn,
or it's sometimes called communal slack...
      even if taken to the court, i can't defend darwinism...
what i can say is that: enough prayers left
at the darwinian altar has left me a david Attenborough
in the pornographic industry spectacle...
because why can't i be as **** similis as i care
not to be **** sapiens?!
                 the basic fact is that i have obscured
the thesarus in my lexicon...
                 i have made certain words rigid...
opposite of making a chair goo and custards...
it's a rigidness that i expect to spar with,
       i need the stability...
   and this makes me the shadow-man...
because i can't compete for a pulpit and a freedom
to speak... i can't!
    i am bound to shadows and book-worms...
and am for the better for it to be so gravitating me toward
the grave...
      i can't say darwinism exists a priori because i just
can't...
                        i say that because biology is the sole
science that does away with mathematical language...
             biology has no actual need for numbers,
          it has no need for He meaning helium...
it has no need for the laws of physics...
when physicists try to find the glue...
biology is already immersed in the glue...
                    biology doesn't need numbers...
yet it's there: eating up book after book in the domain
of history, fiction and poetry...
           the a priori implant of god is so much
easier to forget in the medium of thought
than establishing the a posteriori implant of god
that you simply don't think about...
i have about a hundred Islamic terrorists to testify...
   i don't understand this attack on the a priori
stronghold of certain ideas being sanctimonious...
  darwinism cannot reach the pinnacle of a priori
inquiry simply because it begins with an a posteriori
requisite...
                            which is why the whole affair
went to court... with the monkey trial...
(and the rest of the argument i accidently deleted...
which is a shame...
                 but then again, i guess i simply
left it trying to reinvent poetic rhyming,
i mean rhyming counter to plague, the hague,
                or vague...
i meant rhyming on the basis of prefix mandatory
reiteration, or the mundane alternative:
repetition, rather than rhyming
and in musical terms: really hitting the *** note
as to avoid even a sense of polyphony...
or polyphony meaning: personnae...
but i deleted the better half of the narrative...)
some ******* about omni re (things again)
culminating in the mora res = res cogitans...
  to think, to delay... a thing that delays a thing that things
when all things repeat themselves...
   by omni re i mean: that bollocking insistance
of autumn... well: it was a nice load of *******,
but then i did **** in my treatment of it;
which is to not say i didn't have more
intentional sentences to work with...
   accidents happens...
sometimes you get champagne,
most of the time: solitary definition of frustration
at the impeding technology...
                     airy fairy, miser's berry.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
you know, on that N86 bus listening to dikanda's
https://goo.gl/OAUjMe (ketrin ketrin),
while going to the brothel, where i kissed *****'s
eyelid skin i turned my heart into a lung...
and it burst akin to muscled stress of the softer tissue,
by heart was the black horse of the race...
she would only be worth £110 an hour...
but in my heart... a lifetime... so classical fm is
asking for three songs to be enlisted in the hall of fame
here are my three:
1. something to think about (christopher young) -
   hellraiser ii,
2. no time for caution (hans zimmer) -
    interstellar,
3. spectres in the fog (hans zimmer) -
     the last samurai, competing with
(4. any other name (thomas newman) -
     american beauty,
and....
5. carpe diem (maurice jarre) -
     the dead poets' society);
i always found classical music invoked
by fast image exchange most adhering
to a modern public... after all...
the notes written down are transliterated
from moving geometries
asking for a human face...
that one abstraction leaving another created...
so enriched we can be living and leaving here,
but leave and live here cradled and crawling
and nothing more than an attempt for
a crafted shawl of woollen care...
assuredly we were the blank canvas,
when the sheep and lion were clothed...
the lizard inwardly having its blood cooled...
and we the mediators...
to evolve from an origin of such biological diversity?
why will darwinism claim to be a humanism
and let no humanism in?!
if darwinism branched from science for a populism
of understanding prepositions as propositions
(given that propositions are allowed expression
with far many more complex words than prepositions,
given the former are deemed a nature or origin
and the latter a nature of coordination)
why allow it a humanistic simplicity
and complicate humanism to a non-expression's
extent of a complexity? darwinism cannot grasp
humanism's complexity per se, for each its own per se
allowance... darwinism cannot relate to humanism,
since humanism deals with the one diluted into the many,
while darwinism deals with the many concentrated into
the one:
and noting the varied dimensional usage of pronouns,
the singular (engaging), the singular (disengaging),
the plural (effective), the plural (ineffective),
to use but a few among others... how would a self,
as either realistically concerned or as expressed
in an atlas pose when one individual speaks of a species
to ever survive... to speak of humanity per se,
is to not speak of being human per se (a self),
but as if under a constant threat from either internal
or external stimuli, it's to speak as if human
but hardly being human... darwinism only said
in simpler terms 1 = ~∞ 0 1 (one equals
approximately infinity denying one... expressed
further: one equals approximately infinity denying
oneness, hence ethnicity, hence disparity,
the infinite approximate is due to the no. of equally
represented identities of reflection as one's akin
in historical content for a vanity representation
of ego) / although there's a parallel disparity:
1 = ∞ 0 ~1 (1 equals a reasonable infinity
of the semblance collective, as approximated within
one's own constitution, denied by the constitution
of the semblance collectivised denying 1 its
oneness by a division, into pop. psychology
of subconscious, unconscious, ulterior and posterior
assembling of identification in order to relate
a concrete un-divisible one, to a oneness
of ~∞ 0 ∞†, whether governed by animate or inanimate
things, worthy of either representing
∞ = 0 ~1, or ~∞ = 0 1 (infinity equating itself to
a denial of an approximation of one,
or approximate infinity equating itself to a denial
of one) - by most standards a collective power
increases, while an individual coercion with
such increase in power is diluted to mediocre representation
of what was once hoped for to be an individual...
as worded: i'm about to inherit a pickaxe, an igloo,
a herd of sheep, a land arable for regular hunts
to provide sustenance, but as i said, the oddity
of increasing vocabulary as body-building index muscle,
will hardly teach you the physics of quanta in
the realm of modulating grammar,
on the basic basis of grammatical as
a method of de-categorisation one word from it being
named, to it being acted upon as a termed way of
walking (differently), or otherwise.

†a bit much for me, an alfred jarry moment
at the end of dr. faustroll's opinions and exploits...
papa **** got the dangling essence of things:
je suis jarry among the je suis cherub charlies,
if poet does not appreciate other artistic mediums
he can't mediate them,
poetry is supposed to mediate all artistic expression
with platonic criticism... it's supposed to mediate,
with poets appreciating each and every craft...
whether sculpture we scrap metal stolen from a park,
or whether an oil canvas be worth as much as toilet
paper when the painter is alive, and millions more
when he's dead.. we need gravity a demanding
drama to extend drama into grammar...
poets have to become the middle-men of haggling,
they need to appreciate art in an elitist way
in order that art can't become genealogically defining,
like dramatics of the theatre lost between idols
of 1950s screening compared to idols of 19'90s screening...
we need poets as the glue stuck to every output...
we need to appreciate all art other than their own
to discover their own... we can't have the mindless
jealousy bribe us to reconcile composition,
so that poet against poet is still writing poetry...
he isn't... he's writing a polemic... and that's hardly
a dialogue... it's a mortifying analogue of monologue...
and we don't want poetry to be such a belittling
circumstance of the original intent of practice,
why would a poet's rarity be reduced to
a market blasphemy of ultra-eloquent speech
in order that it might be used to scold?
why the jealousy? why?! it reeks of revenge
that only requires a Darwinism to include it,
as sustainable and necessary,
too many monkeys to create a single man...
too many difference in man from continental span
of africa, to asia... to even bother a standing ovation
origination in genetic scrip of a chimpanzee...
script wants man to be genetically above
a genetic script of a banana numbering more genes
that itself... the biodiversity of monkey
is akin to man... why would the two chiral statues
suddenly become gemini of explanation?
it all fits... but it stinks...
well, whatever that was... it's the pride of a language
that keeps darwinism alive...
but theology is closer to humanism than darwinism...
it's a compound logic, darwinism ends with with an ism,
an empiricism... and the only logic accounted for
is a logic of repeat... just look at the forms of these words...
formulated by L and Γ (origin of the kabbalistic interpretation
of allah)... keep the prefix akin to a suffix composed to
an enclosure... theology provides the better logistics
of expressing being human than an empiricism
known to be darwinism... after all a -logy tends to
repeat a systematic use of words...
empiricism a systematic use of facts...
easier to become bored of facts than words.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
someone once said: only the natives can be designated
free speech...
the immigrants can have their dog
and let it bark, along with whatever thinking comes
their way...

exploring the last remains of thought -
well then... suit and boot me up for some "thinking"
as i extend it into writing...

if i were of the native stock... "elsewhere":
most probably h'america or australia... even in italy
having tea with mussolini i'd be:
an expat... as an outsider among outsiders
but among my sameness-namesakes of surnames
akin to jones and smith:

i will never be an "immigrant" among...
it's not even a voice of cocern, this little voice of
mine...
an englishman who decides to move
to h'america is an expatriate for the native
englishman who stayed behind...
he's never an immigrant...

perhaps other nations view the people that left
them in such a positive light?
where else to emigrate to that doesn't
speak basic english with a tinge of
a "welcoming" plethora of accents?

proudly having expatriated...
or having to have had to humbly emigrated...
bark bite and tail in tow...
my the luck of being an expatriate...
readily prepared with a francophile basis...
e.g., or some other: less frost-bitten
idealism as the work ethic of:
work work work...

we know the english immigrants
as expatriates... but i doubt that people
from where i from would call me...
an expatriate... they'd call me...
eh... hangman noose... a deserter...
god forbid the fact that i somehow managed
to integrate... but then found myself wondering...

have, have integrated into... "what"?!
today i was truly astounded...
after all... Romford, Essex... England...
can boast about a few things...
notably? it's the past place you can buy vinyl
without amazon.co.uk...
you can actually play the buyer and the person
that loiters with his shadow...
flicking through a dictionary of sorts...
finding a record...

i actually left the house for ulterior motives...
but i succumbed to the allure...
and as i walked the January 2nd 2020 highstreet
in Romford...
i heard english... as a spoken language...
twice in the pedestrian commute...
and of course when it came to a lingua franca
scenario of buying or selling something...
otherwise:

perhaps i retained my primitive instincts
and the tongue and should have left it with a ghost
of me back in the clarifying vicinity of
an airport 50 miles from Warsaw...
i have bigger things to worry about though:
how i should start learning Romanian...
even though: i thought bilingualism was a good
idea?
it's not?

not among the natives could i ever be
an expatriate...
an ever: never... like any more thesaurus
sharpening would do the trick to balance
the optics of "perspective"...

if it wasn't a mistake...
it has still been a purchase:
freddie hubbard on the trumpet,
jackie mclean on the alto sax,
kenny drew on piano,
doug watkins on bass
and pete la roca on drums...

the only reason as to why i bought
a gramaphone was to buy the only cheap vinyl
there is... jazz...
to escape the earphones...
to find the complete volume of space
that would later be deemed:
confined to a room... cell... or some alternative
variation: but... oh jeez...
how wrong it was of me...

make a note: alto sax jazz is not for you...
remember: alto sax jazz is not for you...

a sensation of being a foreigner in
an already double-dutch foreign sense of land...
anything that drops from clinching
to the London transport system
with the trains and the tubes and buses
is: england...
the england of my youth where i remained
like that... dunce in the ****** tunes cartoons
interlude...

and what of my citizenship on paper?
wave a passport around
like a benchmark or an otherwise easy
accent-identifier?
perhaps i don't even know:
Bristolian - my best guess with this acquired
tongue...

but at least buying jazz is getting easier...
freddie hubbard a known name...
but... no... alto sax jazz is not for me...
now it figures...
i can get away on a whim when
a trumpet solos... but not when an alto sax
solos... i really can't stomach it...
will i give this Bluesnik record back?
no, i need a testament -
i have bought something
but the self-reflection is free...

there's only so much classical music escapism
you can try -
before long you realise that the people
listening to classical music...
mostly... when they make requests...
want "something soothing"...
want "something jovial"...
or usually it's a piece of music that has
been attached to a movie...
classical music - apparently doesn't feed
people a subtle stream of images...
and it's obvious: those requests are not phoned
in on by blind people...

imagine... the ****** of F... when you have ⠋
to work with...
what is an sunrise... a sunset but a dash
of colour... a spring of the heavens
an autumn of the heavens...
but my my... in this inverted listening of jazz...
⠙⠑⠑⠏
⠃⠇⠥ ⠑    DEEP BLUE...

if i were blind: and came to the pearly gates...
i'd ask for letters: primo pronto!
later i'd worry about colours and shapes...
as i'd probably stick to my first passion
and hearing this fathomless shapeless
sounds that... abide to no lineage with a recant
of a triangle's use of 90°...

otherwise... what if you've been fed
the: classical music when listened to when a child
will increase your i.q. -
but what are the chances that you will:
"regress" from listening to classical
music and take to jazz?
perhaps because jazz has to be felt,
it has to be heard, first,
rather than... the silence and scribbles
of a composer at his desk -
where a classical music composition
is very much like writing:
that whole a prior shabang!
none of the a posteriori zigzagging
of impromptu and jazz?

one thing is certain... i'm not going to
be a fan of alto sax jazz...
sonny clark on piano - yes...
art blakey on drums - yes...
kenny burrell on guitar - yes...
alto sax no... ah... but give me tenor sax
and... no please no big bang jazz
equivalent to thelonious monk...
at least jazz gives you pedestrian tastes
and whims...
nothing akin to bowing at the altar
of a Beethoven: or talking lightly of
the man - "the man"...

and who the hell said that being
objectivity "works all the time"
that objectivity "runs the marathon"...
alto sax jazz is pedestrian music...
don't get me wrong...
you want to walk down a busy street
and you want to drown the sounds
of progress: no horses sneezing,
no horses' hooves playing tic-tac-toe
chess on cobweb stones...
alto sax jazz is your take-out
walk-through...
but when you're hunched in a chair
and pecking at a keyboard with
ten good beaks of the tips of your fingers...

again: how do the hands rest before
the keyboard?
the right hand:
index middle, pinky and thumb...
the ring finger is used for the: delete button...
a revision - the pinky does the enter -
and the cascade follows...
the left hand?

primarily the index and *******...
the thumb is always attached to space...
shared with the right hand's *******
to space,
i can't remember if i ever used my ring
or pinky finger of my left arm...

so much for inverted chiromancy...
the polacks will never give me the wings
to be an expatriate...
i will be forever: he who abandoned
that land running with milk and honey...
but... look at how they stand behind those
from england that decided to go "elsewhere"...
they are not immigrants...
they are... expatriates...
have nothing filthy them it comes to
the connotation...
it's not sad it's not funny it's: somewhere
"in between"...

because we know that the only russians
that ever make it out of russia
are the oligarchs... and by that standard
of "sentiment": they're always welcome...
who wouldn't welcome the pharaohs without
giza pyramid ambitions of construction?!
passing chalk as cheese -
and passing... ink for blood...
perhaps i haven't sweated enough to be allowed
to write but as little as this...

there's always this sense of alienation
among the germanic tribes of "israel":
europe... even if they are the scots or the welsh
suckling at the teats of romulus & remus' lupa...
as the old saying goes among the slavic people
when "integrating" into a germanic-esque society -
by the time you have integrated...
there's this dog-**** pile of Babylon left...
and the germans are: "nowhere"!

the saying goes via:
if you go among the crows...
you must croak their croak...

here's to flying high as an imitation seagull!
brazen: into this arable land...
that's being teased by the Thames estuary...

passing through a Warsaw train station
i noticed the immigrants / the expatriates
on the eastern front...
mostly mongols...
notably the ukrainians...
but now in england i'm starting to think
in concrete terms... better start learning
Romanians...
and on the street: you can't see a focus of
who's here and who isn't here...
back east the Roma people stood out
like a sore thumb or a voodoo plum and...
that didn't bother the locals since they were
meshed like glue...
but, here, in england?
everyone's a sore thumb a voodoo plum...
because the natives,
the blessed idiosyncratic professional
eccentrics have left and...
i'm not going to be the first chasing them down...

London the only and last bastion is
overrun with the whole lot of us...
well: the "us" vs. "them" mentality...
don't get me wrong... i'll still listen to the concerns
of the peripheries... in this cest pool
of immigrants, degenerates...
old people who "forgot" to move...
the lunatics the in-betweeners and the old guard
clinging on...
perhaps, after all... english was a very
accomodating language...
it wouldn't take a genius to learn it from scratch
being thrown into the deep end of the pool
aged 8...
who was mute aged 8 going to school
being moved from "east" europe to this island
with... no prior to linguistic connection?
moi...

and now look at me... i'm teasing myself
with... sordid welsh as if i were ever the posterboy
for welsh nationalism...
scottish nationalism? eh... if they were to retain
their gaellic roots...

expansion:
the longing for those who have left:
in the anglo-sphere - expatriate...
the abhoring sense of those who arrive -
immigrant...
otherwise... the english are always
and everywhere: welcome...
hence the expatriate status of those
who have left their native land...
even in h'america: a shared language:
to be an immigrant... while speaking
the same language?! how preposterous!

the difference between eastern style
comedy presentation and western style
comedy presentation: on stage...

the eastern folk prefer cabaret: theatre dialogue
montages...
the western folk prefer stand-up:
monologue samuel beckett esque
performances...
'woe i... stand alone in this infinite
space and... find others to laugh with...'

- perhaps we're not being less funny because
we're lowering our "i.q.": yes, the we are...
we are... lowering...
i find lee evans to be funny...
a laurel and hardy weren't exactly funny
by modern comedy standards that:
it's only funny if it's intelligent...
if there's a crossword puzzle at the end of "it"...

perhaps pride is the shackle...
and ham... what ever happened to self-depreciating
humor that managed to somehow
elevate you as also having a sense
of humor:
do intelligent men even laugh
at something that isn't a word-play or
a corset of wit?
perhaps we're experiencing a drying of wip...
perhaps the jokes are only supposed
to come: days after as a form of
reflection on the sigma canvas:
the joke has to exist outside the performer
and the stage... it needs to be: a live-experience...
it has to take on DASEIN qualities?
it has to be internalised?

that: oh yeah... that's funny...
perhaps the same thing has to be observed
and it can't be retold in an impromptu
fashion shackled to a stage?
the stage is the new camp-fire?
i thought so too... about the television...

as: here's to slagging off everything that's
being published online bypassing
the editorial process of selection...
well... if it weren't for all the seriousness
surrounding internet banking...
and internet shopping...
pen to paper...
******* clinching a ripped roll
of cushioning paper
and a pseudo-***** imitation
for a wipe while massaging my prostate
over the enlightened prospect
of dropping the blitzkrieg plump-dump-plum
into an echoing lake in the ceramic basin...
otherwise...

a seanse with that moment of realisation:
"something is happening to us
collectively"... it's as if: we're under a spell...
oh i was under a spell today...
watching alec guinness in the fall of the roman
empire...
and as coming from a people
that were never conquered by rome?
on this fine fine island that was...
well... my hopes were also high for
the conquests of the mongol empire...
and the remains of it in the form of the tatars
in crimea...

here are my tattoos... it's hard to break from them,
it's hard to wash them away...
but at least i can attest:
my brain might be all fat and sponge and
electricity... but there's some skull and skin
to be had of it...
otherwise... why would the year 1066
be important for me... why would the magna carta
be important for me?
i too have my years in tattoos on this big brian
of mine...

otherwise there's that copernico-darwinian
surge of: journalistic science...
i still find it staggering that darwinism continues
to capture the imagination of people...
"of people"... only in Wittgenstein was left
alone in finding that Copernicus did something
astounding... this surge of "awakening"
via darwinism: this statistical bombardment
like it was some tabloid journalism:
throwing a pebble at a mountain while
also ushering in a mantra: grow by
a poppy's seed added height! grow!

perhaps i'm just jealous...
among the polacks i will never be an expatriate...
what a jealous people...
an englishman who moves to france...
comes 20 year later...
he will have never experienced
the mark of cain: immigration "humphrey bogart"...
he or she moved to france...
perhaps to italy...
i remember being in greece and...
i was nothing when i said i was ******:
but with british citizenship! to add...
so what?
well... so what greece...
i latched onto some north africans
and went to **** away the night
in some strip-bar where i had
two strippers either head o' mine...
and it was constellations galore...
grandmother Etna said:
rest here, among the smooches poor child...

i borrowed Etna from when Aeneas
"left off"...
****'s sake... this is the Meditarrean
and not the Baltic? where is the amber
the whiskey and the leverage of gratations
of time?!

i will agree. Macedonia come night traffic
of quicksilver tinging?
if the metal is cheap and you douse it in some gold?
a mountain dripping fresh from some quicksilver
from the moon peering at it?
objectivity what?

the finite plateau of snow-riddled Serbia...
and perhaps that's because these people
speak their own language...
and have so... and i'm just the next
"english" tourist...
a jack kerouac americanism and:
oh sure! sure!
spectacular fly-over country tourism!
everything's so so different!
and yet all so oh so much the same!

darwinism was going to run the 5000 meter
race... it's currently running the 10000 meter
race... god help it in running the marathon
of still pretending: old news is new news...
i can't distinguish between darwinism
and copernican discovery...
only in the english-speaking world
would this discovery not escape a criticism
from ancient greece and some, some predecesor!

wouldn't anyone just bore of darwinism
if they were told: over and over again:
the copernican "reality"?
a scientific fact is... akin to a religious dogma...
until... it becomes regurgitated with
enough time, with enough journalism and...
tabloid wind... and after a while...
it's only worthwhile to be spoken to
amnesia peoples of the world: unite!
it's hardly "stupid" or "intelligent"...
more or less overlooked...
because a pebble thrown at a mountain:
is... no added mountain to behold...
conventional wisdom is the only wisdom
that there ever was made to be made:
available...

nonetheless, the circumstance stands...
unless from the slavic hemisphere
of europe...
unlike any other circumstance: other than
the one given, among islanders...
among continent builders akin
to australia and h'america...
the post-racial societies of post-colonial
spain in south america?
ever wonder why the brazillians don't
look for inspiration from the portugese
when it comes to football?
you'd think: those yanks better have
the best football team in the world...
they haven't exactly looked back...
back at "us": oh god... tea afternoon and cricket...
baseball wha'?
basketball? "football"?
why are "we" looking forward and "they're"
looking back?
perhaps i should learn some spanish and
get some insinuation about:
the argentinian sense of lack when looking
back into spain...

or what else is there to be had?
move to Greenland... admire Denmark...
**** it: do the whole stretch and find
some locals on the Faroe Islands...
perhaps i too will find a tomorrow...
but tomorrow i will find: sobering up
and having to deal with: everything beside jazz...

mmm... "delayed gratification" prospects...
seven kings: canon palmer catholic school...
when boys are educated alongside girls...
what if i went to Ilford County High?
what if i were born to immigrant parents
and wasn't an 8 year old immigrant?
what if i went to the Ilford Ursulines?
the all-girls school... the former, Ilford County High?
what chances of me being an intellectual
******?

what, oh the chances!
perhaps praying: segregated... is a tad extreme?
but perhaps ******-exclusion policies:
teaching boys throughout their puberty
as segregated from girls in the same hormonal
development "range" is...
well! how else! you take a boy and girl
and you put them into the hormonal cocktail!
just because it's in a shared educational
environment... why these teenage pregnacies
you ask?
i wouldn't ask such blunt questions...
not since the genius of Copernicus
couldn't attract these...
psychological left-over intelligenstia clingers...
that darwinism has allowed...
what it darwinism and journalism?
everything! the ant as the ego
inside the mind of an ape...
the dormant tapeworm embryo
inside the mind of an ant:
with siesmic consequence of a disturbance
of the collective hive network...

borrow too much from an ape...
borrowing from an ape is one thing...
it's the borrowing from all other
animals: with the ape as the backdrop
that's truly bothersome!
at least religious spew the same facts
over and over again...
scientific dogma? who keeps track?
tomorrow might be the next:
butter vs. margarine controversy!
what sort of "religion" is science
(it's not a religion... if it's not...
why does it have to cohabit a bed
with journalism then, to spew "new",
"improved" facts, then?!)
when... it's so ******* finicky!

look via the ape long enough:
it won't matter whether it's a geocentric
of a heliocentric system that
reigns above your head, no torso,
a pickled spine...
legs and arms floating about like:
an octopus experiencing spasms
pickled in brine...

perhaps these are the zenith years of
darwinistic popularity...
perhaps like the copernican popularity...
there will come a time of:
fatalism... that somehow all of this
is... inevitable...

i see one answer: this cage of grammar
this cage of whatever this god made human
pressures me into complying to...
to the last typo! i will stand against it!
without caging me into a use of emoji or
some other hieroglyphic purse of:
shortened "thinking"...

the "seven silences" might have passed
around my presence that i dare not
call it: in concrete - figure...
and still my eigth silence to unmask
nothing more than a mask...

who are these immigrants, these tight brewed
broods, these furrow brows
representing the native pensive "squint":
of anything beside the eyes and a thought
of h. p. lovecraft?
perhaps inside of europe:
but as ever... without a russian passport...
without a russophobia that's
a tickling hard-on... the "in-between-land"...
perhaps the balkans...
who are we... to these germans and quasi-germans?

we use their tongue, their zunge...
their everything they will otherwise allow themselves
to deny: perhaps this is not Dublin,
this is not Glasgow this is not Cardiff...
perhaps this is not Italy,
this is not France...
perhaps this is "europe" as long as
Scandinavia is involved...

woe a we unto us: the viking Rus...
or some lent word of lost vogue...
last time i heard:
these northern ******* are in no favour
of treating the Spaniards or the Greeks
as their equals...
as long as they have rich arab pimps
race their lamborghini brute ******
down... knightsbridge...

then! and only then! iz ist europa "reconquista"!
"reconquista"... i'll defend these poor polacks
that didn't think it...
"necessary" to only learn english in order
to comply to the global dictum of neu-communist
internationalism...
- what, they didn't teach you you stupid
**** that it only took to learn from english?!
- last time i heard... not teachings polish
to a canape of anything beside the french,
the spanish... also worked!

english as a language is oh so accomodating...
the people will react like antibiotics,
naturally... enough of darwinism and you'll
be found, bound, to having to reference it...
past a de facto menu:
and more like a subjectivity...
there's only so much truth that can be stated...
before fiction has to reply...
because... how many regurgitated facts
can be regurgitated...
before the desert of fiction and...
there's only the fact of a bottle of water...
that remains...
and there's not impetus to walk toward
an oasis...
a fata morgana is hardly a scientific experience...
when experienced...
it's something associated with
a desert and within the desert must either:
live... or die...

what if etymology was to become the new
standard for journalism...
what if one were to escape this contant
bombardment of darwinism...
like it wasn't the next new vogue akin
to the copernican "revolution"?

is that even possible?
whenever i return to Poland...
esp. in Warsaw... i'm a deserter...
i'm not an expatriate...
the native english call those who left
with a sense of longing...
somehow: or at least that's the leftover...
the expatriates from the inside-out
perspective... never the immigrants...

i'm an immigrant and...
a paper citizenship is: no citizenship at all...
a passport is only worth a passport
at a border crossing...
in between the everyday daily affairs?
'where are you from?'
****... 'Bristol?!'...
i'm hardly going to speak
the cockney cockers or an essex schlang...
am i? ***!
all but ******* plumbers and church pulpit
mongers... and some over-ripe
riddle fruits: if not simply left
bottles of wine for the bears...

the first part though, bothers me...

someone once said: only the natives can be designated
free speech...
the immigrants can have their dog
and let it bark, along with whatever thinking comes
their way... in mere thinking...
and a dog barking...

the natives will only have a freedom of speech...
what if an immigrant becomes a citizen?
just asking...
what if an immigrant is granted a citizen
status?
well then... i am your humble example
of a civic nationalist...
such a confusing term...
it must be: for the natives...

oh ****... what language am i using?
the language of the... natives!
rubric civitas!
civic nationalism is reserved for:
those that came from abroad...
i guess the ethno-nationalists never made
this distinction clear:
watching their contemporaries leave their
native pit of woe...
and they would never call them:
deserters... only... only... expatriates...
after all... aren't we in the postmortem of ancient Rome?!
isn't this the time when the remnant
english come out and glorify being
the conquered people of this: lettering?

what is civic nationalism?
what is learnt, integrated nationalism...
this is civic nationalism...
how about the english forget about something,
like solving crosswords...
esp. among the middle-classes...
and let's envision their globalist dream!
let them learn a second language
and let us all become bilingual!
oh no... not polyglots... just bilingual!

i can't be an ethno-nationalist...
em... because (a) (b) and (c)?
aren't the post-colonial commonwealth
remnants of the empire the sort
civic-nationalists there's talk of?
what language am i writing in?
hebrew?! mandarin?!

ethno-natioanlism and its tribalism...
civic-nationalism and its state...
where does the church fit into all of this?
it's like not being an amuptee but
nonetheless being prescribed a "missing limb"...
the **** would i need a third arm for?
wilt the third leg allow me to run faster?!

i guess the term ethno-nationalist is
conflated with civic-nationalist in the ethno-nationalist
realm of "debate"...
a civic-nationalist is your casual parlance
h'american patriot...
patriotism in h'america: nationalism (still)...
in europe...
if we have to: hello, my name is: bob
do it all over again with the squares
and dictum assertions and what not attached...
between the ethno-nationalists and
the civic-nationalists...
the inter-nationalists...

i'm a civic-nationalist because:
i fear people need concrete examples...
i will not move back to Poland...
except on the holidays...
to visit my grandparents...
which is why i have retained the labour
of a native tongue... and "identity"...
i will remain in England...
until England becomes: Alle-Land...
and even when all these
ethno-nationalists ******* to Australia...
and become civic-nationalists over there...
well: over there good luck!

why would anyone ask an ethno-nationalist
the question: are you a civic-nationalist or?
civic- implies:
i'm a Brit from a grand "beyond":
circa 3000km away...
civic is a bewildering prefix for the nationalist
of a ethno- persuasion...
it really is... esp. when this ethno-nationalist
doesn't believe in the existence of
expatriates... that he would remain... "stuck"...
and that somehow... ethno-kin could come
and replace... those kin that left: "in good faith"...

savvy?!
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
hey! i don't mind the dodo! i don't have some neuroticism encompassing vitriol to continue: but sure as ****, you do. what happens when the white ladies die off? **** a monkey?! i accept my fate, like you accept your being bound to heavenly graces of continuum inexhausted with death being a lost concept of compensation... it only takes 2 generations to revise the piglet race... so... where's the competing element of nervosity? really? really?! existential blackmail?! is this how low it has to be grounded in? look at me, do i look like i actually give, a ****?! maybe you do, but this existential blackmail in the anglophone world of puritanical darwinism is not for more... i already find it hard raising jerking off in this world, let alone a pair of tadpoles... honest to god, it's already hard raising a pristine jerking off, let alone a pair of children.

i'm still trying to figure out this existential anglophone
blackmail... it's been bothering me for
ages... i simply can't fathom it...
i really can't stop seeing it as an existential blackmail...
that i somehow need to reproduce...
   that i'm somehow needed, my genes are speaking
to the darwinistic affection
of keeping "form"... can i just say that i don't
get it?! can i just cite that
darwinism has a negative impetus strategy for
invoking existentialism?
    can i just say that darwinism belongs on
the isles, and existentialism
belongs on the continent, and that the two never
are allowed to mingle?
no? so why do i feel blackmailed
into "needing" to reproduce?
besides the point, i never intended,
i was one of the one child state policy of china,
we were always the weirdos -
but the english have half a wits' worth
of understanding of existentialism,
they kept **** *******
darwinism, sorry, but they did...
an ex-girlfriend's father once asked
me: what are the famous poles?
i forgot to reply...
copernicus, marie curie,
          chopin?
   no, doesn't ring a bell in your
paddy sodden brain? **** me,
i'm always late when it comes to
insulting someone, it usually takes me
years upon years to reply an insult...
which makes everything a really bad joke.
but i hate how english existentialism
took off,
   just as bad as my late reaction to
an insult's worth of joke...
     existentialism & darwinism do not exactly
mingle...
        come on, you have to be kidding me...
when it comes to english existentialism
(covert darwinism): i am being blackmailed...
i am literally being blackmailed into
some form of apartheid...
some sort of quasi: apartheid...
no, i'm not equipping myself
with misnomer tactics -
         i'm being blackmailed to: "continue"
my "species"...
  last time i checked,
i couldn't give two ***** of concern
for *queen sheeba's
prophecy
of the world being populated by
the copper skinned peoples...
i.e. cuprum populus...
                 somehow darwinism,
existentialism and populism and the general
of competition, have created a toxic affair
of: a complete lack of competing energisation;
sure! the jews will win their "prize"
of recanting their jewel prize of ten diadem
rules...
     among the choccies and the copper skins;
don't you think the jews look a bit
odd, a bit out of place, given that they're
so white, in the middle east?
         oh right, no i remember:
stating the obvious huh? is now considered
a hate speech;
so the fact that the jews returned to the middle
east: kinda bleached, is not, "a bit" weird?
can i have those magic mushrooms now?
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
i'm sorry, embracing darwinism is an abandonment
of carpe diem: there is no way that
the anglophone world will ever fully embrace
existentialism, the anglophone world is
orientated around up-keeping their golden
quack's worth of the goose that laid
golden eggs in a grimm's tale -
    it will not pass me, even though i'm drunk
and half the spectator's worth of chant,
you're not getting "one" past me...
             why? it's simple!
            the english speak more shakespeare
than dante...
             and that's for starters...
     whenever i look at english t.v.
i'm less glutton & more anorexic,
    less political & therefore more docile...
the ******* nodding brigade.
  nod, sneeze, nod some more,
pretend it's head-banging, you *******
tickling peckham *****...
          *******, and **** your
ellie charlie and prince albert whatever you
******* call him of edinburgh
who could play that vampire, like he always
plays a vampire, that charles dance:
****** has a 11" ****'s worth of voice...
now come on, darwinism is nearing death...
    i'd prefer the idea of nibbling on bamboos
like some panda; you sure we didn't
evolve from bears, instead monkeys?
mono-apparent diet though...
come on, take it to ease up life...
             seems i has a lost sense of humour
running rampant...
     even the russians are laughing:
**** me: that's a joke in itself...
          moscow giggles?
    that really ought to come from a *******'
**** joke philander of breezes
smoking a cinnamon ridden pipe
with a jew on the side...
               kippah for a bowl?!
             what, jews are careless when saying
a joke, you being anti-semitic all of a sudden
while i say mine?
       chinese never slurped a noodle soup
while utilising chopsticks?! you sure
you didn't see grandpa ying-ju slurp
that chicken broth up?!
they didn't! bring in the french cuisine experts
regarding au jus!
*******, gonna boil them like,
wide-awake,
oh i've seen a chicken get decapitated on
a stump of wood, with the cannibalism
that ensued, while the decapitated head
rolled off the slub, lazy eyed while
the other chickens made a religion,
and pecked at the blood...
           silence of the lambs had its hannibal:
time for a caesar:
       concerto of lobsters....
           shrill... itching with a chalk pecker
on a blackboard...
so what's absurd with coupling darwinism
with continental darwinism?
well...
  man gets the monkey,
woman? she gets the black widow & the mantis...
that's what!
            i'm not not up for that sort of
gamble...
          someone should have said:
english darwinism does not couple well
with continental existentialism,
to be honest darwinism is the enemy of
existentialism...
   the two can't co-exist!
          we already have the thematics in
place with women:
the upper hand, given the numbers,
man resorts to monkey, woman?
   a black widow spider & the mantis...
   who has the upper-hand?
   english "existentialism" i.e. darwinism
is crude, obsolete, hardly revelatory -
tell you what's crude about "reality"
one man who just sat on a toilet,
another who sat on an armchair,
and another who sat in an electric chair,
walk into a bar...
                  what? there's no joke,
the joke is already stated in the disparity!
you don't reach the heights of existentialism
with a shortcut akin to darwinism...
you don't get that benefit!
        come on, get with it:
you already have enough fickle people
playing peanuts and gherkins with:
             god is dead: enter the dietitian;
you're busy, make a move at imitating
the icelandic peoples,
and incorporating an app. that tells your
mating partner, if you're at least 5 times removed
cousins: you know, so we don't get anymore
orangutan reminders in human form
(downs, eyes really close together,
can't miss them: the mad call them: 'ere
by god's grace... or that strange form of love
coming from a psychotic *****);
no, darwinism is really ******* in terms
of "trying" to catch up to continental existentialism...
darwinism in comparison to existentialism
is a neanderthal...
   oops...
       man gets the drumming monkey,
a girl gets the black widow & the mantis -
       and then we inherit the nag hammadi
trans- of everything without exception sexuality:
boy gets pink, girl gets blue...
and we're all happy gleeful
  passing st. peter with a ***** strapped to his head:
**** me... these "pearly" gates, look
    just like those gates of auschwitz!
can i just have the fate of those
concerto lobsters, please?
    i'd like to sing a song while boiling
within the zenith of a castrato exclaiming:
          i lost m'ah *****! yet i kept on singing!
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
everyone can agree on the fact that scholasticism
existed in medieval Europe...
i'm not even going to tackle the dichotomy
of scholasticism "vs." humanism...
but... what is apparent... from what i've heard
and seen...
scholasticism wasn't replaced by humanism...
but... pop-psychology...
i.e. the schematic-ism of man...
        Oxford dictionary has yet to approve the term:
schematicism...
   from the "holy trinity" of Freud -
the father the ego
   the son the superego
the holy spirit the id... blah blah, blah, blah...
the fragmented man in search for...
for me... less of a "soul" and more of
   the sigma... the totality of what is man...
   such the fragmentation of man...
it's almost impossible to find the right sort
of geography one can orientate oneself
around...
i find man too fragmented... too splintered...
i am sure of this...
scholasticism has been replaced with
post-humanism of schematicism....
we have the supposed schematic of man...
but... this ******* genie is not going
back into his lamp...
unless he is put back together is some
jumble, some, dissection freak-show...
    why didn't i pursue a career in chemistry:
even though i studied the art (science)
until i was 21... i didn't want to be the rat
in a laboratory...
           the hamster on the wheel...
apart from the experiment that took almost
a week... synthesising esters...
the best experiment i ever conducted was
in high school... synthesising polyesters...
the event horizon of pinching plastic akin to
how you can't mix oil with water...
how oil is a layer a "tier" above the water...
this is where i am...
   schematicism... i find man trapped...
choked by pop-psychology...
putting himself back together like some...
Frankenstein's monster...
              it's painful to watch, to hear...
it lies so heavy on my heart that...
it almost makes sense to: xiao xin...
   small heart... careful heart...
                literal ******* complimentary...
overt complications / nuances of Chinese
ideograms like i have a ******* spare
day to nuance emoticons, for, ****'s, sake!
yes, because Latin script was not destroyed
by the Hebrew deity like cuneiform
or the hieroglyphs... only that in Chinese
the X could be / ought to be written as...
                                                                      Ź...
******* lemon ******* paper dragons...
squint at my ******* sour: ooh... ooh...
gist gist: ******* juicy plum Hoisin duck
sauce! mmm... ******* yummy!
get my ******* cotton spindle threads from
Sri Lanka or Bangladesh...
Europe is the existential ferment of
existential values... as useless as a fork when
you're presented with a bowl of soup!
slurp up, and hope for the soup to be clear
and have some vermicelli to boot!
but... how else to look at public conversation?
if once upon a time in medieval Europe
there was a trend for scholasticism...
that was replaced with humanism,
romanticism, existentialism...
no wonder... post-humanism...
a return to scholasticism: schematic-ism...
i should reword it as:
a day in the life of an evolutionary
psychologist...
    but, but i thought the soul does not
exist? what logic, what soul?
since, ergo, there's no god?
           somehow the Copernican revolution
could back-peddle... return to the background...
i'm with Nietzsche in my argument
against Darwinism...
   Darwinism has mishandled ontology
beyond comparison...
it hasn't even elevated our attention to detail
/ increased our fascination with the natural world...
with... mantises... with spiders...
i'd love to rid myself of my stupid
arachnophobia... in all honesty? i love spiders...
******* super freaks...
but i think i'm more fascinated with
frogs and earthworms...
   i'd love to take a selfie with a freshly shat out
tapeworm... no... i'm not scared of spiders...
just... there's never a spider
the size of a 10kg Maine **** cat when
you need one to scuttle alongside you
on a leash... ****** reality...
i just don't get it...
               if i was once diagnosed as schizoid...
for being: bilingual...
sorry... this world doesn't want me to make
sense of it... i tried... supposedly "sane" people
are not making sense any-more...
sure... i was diagnosed as X...
but... this X is sort of... it sort of has become
a backstage: ooh: oh! ****'s about to become
acquainted with the fan... time for proper ****** blitz...
i mean: i could understand Soviet style
leftism... empire solid: cheap metal...
loads of nukes... but... western style leftism
is a ******* joke-prop...
   flimsy hair-dye brigade...
and i do come from a former satellite state
of the soviet union... the Czechs still hate the Polacks
thinking that it was Polacks that moved
in the tanks into Prague in 1968... maybe...
it was a Warsaw Pact brigade...
  whatever...
                      i still have a fetish for:
die Deutsche-Zunge...
             but see... the Copernican perspective...
you can sort of ignore... great...
   we're on a pebble in an ocean of nothingness...
nothing changes...
but... Darwinism? has been hijacked...
it's... insufferable... it's so in your ******* face...
like... feminism... Darwinism = feminism...
next you'll hear: stoic darwinism... like you might hear:
cynic feminism...
horseradish load of rubbed-off *******
*******!
          i get it! i get it! stop, rubbing, it, in!
that's it... the ******* universal explanation...
like Jesus on the ******* Cross
Herr Darwin with his space in **** similis...
odd... the ancient people had knowledge
of the existence of the apes...
but... hmm... how much of a comparison is necessary?
when you start to look beyond it...
say: well... that's ugly... that's animal...
let's do something better... let's conjure the beautiful!
these days? good luck with that!
but like Nietzsche i abhor Darwinism...
when it comes to Darwinism i'm a *******
Mary Shelley advocate... Darwin throws me a monkey...
Mary throws me Frankenstein...
i'm siding with the Frankenstein...
what the hell has changed since the geocentric model
became the heliocentric model?
from the very public interactions:
we've managed to reach the "dark side of the moon"
perspective... no... this world is...
lunacentric... everyone's ******* cuckoo...
and i will, ******* die on this little hill...
with firm affirmations and said convictions...
because... why not?
but that's good... i can scribble these little "protests"
while pretending to be the... cool... collected
normie at work... and i am just that...
but inside... i'm ******* boiling...
i'm screaming... i'm Atlas wrestling with Prometheus...
but that's also good...
   because: i'm jealous...
of whom? Charles Olson... the Maximus poems...
call me stupid but... i'm jealous of those poems...
no... i could never be jealous of
ol' Ezra... hmm... King David... oh yeah: him...
to have been the man to have written the psalms...
de profundis...
     let's face it... i couldn't be jealous of king Solomon...
brothel owner...
             but with a man like Day-vid...
   to be so absorbed in music...
               my kind of man...
                  such a beautiful man...
          as sang about via Leonard Cohen in Hallelujah...
and yes... Jeff Buckley did it better...
such the glorious spectacle of the most
absorbing sort of pain... you actually want
to feel his pain... trans-empathetic....
to hell with your trans-sexuality confusions...
    oh to feel this similar... to sigh like Jeff sighed...
this hidden-rot-of-anger in me at the political
language that's current in England...
   this... ****-fist-fake-leftoid pseudo-Soviet imitations
with no grounds in reality!
blah! blah!
                    ******* more: blah! blah!
pink-hair-dye frigid pseudo-sociopathic virgins...
or is that sociopathic pseudo-virgins?!
still ******* frigid... not good luck either left
or right when trying to shoot a load...
          i'm 35 and already tired of life...
libido insomnia... war-esque perpetuated: also
insomnia... but... clearly, apparently:
no ******* war... not the sort of wars one might
conjure when having to conscript civilians...
back-of-the-head sort of "wars"...
              shape-shifting chess... the horses ate too many
rotting apples... became drunk... stumbled...
then had a Picasso diarrhoea session of...
E-HA! let's paint! oh no... this world doesn't bother me...
it's just a massive ******* joke to me...
it's counter intuitive...
if... i were placed... in a more primitive society...
there wouldn't be a talk of a Bernie Ecclestone...
     there wouldn't be a Rod Steward...
            believe me... if Darwinism was to be done...
proper... men like me...
we wouldn't be restricted from utilising our...
naturally gifted capacities... of... wrath-thirst...
how we must have... nuanced it... hid it...
                oh... but those feminists and their:
patriarchal construct arguments...
       sure... it's only safe... when you have a boxing match...
but... i know it: there's a terrible beast sleeping
in me... i know it... when i... sometimes relax...
drinking my white wine aphrodisiac...
when having two sessions of exercise...
and then... ******* the brains out of a Turkish
******* in a brothel...
but... no no no... if Darwinism was true...
               i could follow a Longshanks... an Edward...
we're doing counter intuitive things...
Napoleon? and then, what? ******?!
the latter i can understand as a sophist / rhetorician...
whatever...
           if i were to exercise my natural rights...
if i were to exercise my natural rights...
i wouldn't have to deal with these *******'s worth
of social constructs of appeasing the time-wasting weaklings!
if i were returned to my natural state...
rather than these... polite... politeness-titillating:
Christian *******'s worth of timidity...
i hate it...
                                         everything about this world
is unnatural, counter-intuitive, overtly-feminine,
weak, pardonable, fake...
horror-stricken, worth demanding more of,
too ******* "artistic"...
       smelling of a mingling of acid and rotten eggs...
in a world where society delves into
the appreciation of staged violence...
but abhors actual violence...
    this phobia stricken conglomerate of weaklings...
if Darwinism was done: right and proper...
no... you wouldn't have these sordid discrepancies...
if nature had its sway...
          if only nature: had its sway...
and not the mind of man...
              the feminist angle: of the social construct
of patriarchy: would be the least of your worries...
i'm lethargic... borne from this...
hideous weakness of salvation born from
a suffering... never to be celebrated from
the advent of vitality that was once glorified in
the years B.C.
           Darwinism never promised anything,
it just hijacked the strength and overturned it
with psychologism - bogus explanations of
CUCKS! it ****** the vitality i was originally equipped
with! and what did it do?
the Star of David inversion...
what was once on top, singular...
now became a flattened plateau of a "democracy"...
i can't believe this anglophone *******...
Ezra rallied against usury...
   me? i'll rally against Darwinism...
a man of my stature should not have to bow
before someone biologically inferior
to him... naturally! naturally this shouldn't happen!
but it is... pray: send you earthquakes,
tornados, all the elemental proofs!
   but i bow, regardless...
                  with as much... hatred as can be
easily disguised... with more animosity than
hatred... and that's still: the sort that can be best
hidden... because... society expects me to do so...
but... should i ask nature...
oh... oh... nature would have a really troubling counter
narrative: that it would allow me
to exercise! ******* dim-wits, Dickensian *******
dim-wits... happily married to exercising the play
of cricket... ****-wits... English-****-wits;
such....eagerness...
the weak shall inherit the earth...
     and make it... a shored stone outside the realm
of the fertile grounding...
                if the vitality in our midst is not
protected... then... SUFFER!
you ******* schmucks! your ******* wonderbra
elect gimmicks!
*******: die! be: born of death!
             you've had your say / your sway:
my turn!
                ***** with anvil!
               you ******* pederasts!
                    **** glory! i just want to love
a woman... but... seeing clearly...
you people are making finding a woman...
a lot more difficult! ****-jobs of the dodo-project!
i'm retiring from outright verbiose
momentum... that's it...
                      i stroke my beard...
i cushion a feels for ****** of a woman...
the end... that's the *******: the end...
                          time's a tired type.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
apparently nothing is impossible these days... if nebuchadnezzar were to be alive, and open the newspaper (the times) on this day, march the 21st 2017, and turned to page 4, he would have seen his dream realised, he'd have cried, seeing the hanging garden of Cotehele, on the banks of Tamar in Cornwall

no one really notices it, but they state it quiet
blatantly...
     this isn't the case to remember
               the *scopes' trial
/ monkey trial...
the original beauty of the theory has been
hijacked with ideological motifs...
                  on that ground, i can't accept it
any more, not as a former student of chemistry;
it has simply exhausted itself
          and yes, the transition from monkey
to man is dead... what i call the resuscitation
of god...
         and even i find abhorrent the two primes
in terms of idea from the christian doctrine:
  forgiving one's enemies (it's hardly
      a forgiveness, but more or less
a machiavellian tactic for scheming)...
                     but too true the chant: mea culpa.
to take responsibility for one's own actions
is the sensible prime... but it really depends
on how you deal with it.
            - i mention cultural darwinism for a reason,
biology is truly pointless if the orthodoxy of
medicine isn't stated first...
                 cultural darwinism doesn't originate
in medicine, it's not there... biology has become
too humanistic, in the sense that economists
don't address the objective arguments
but rather stress a subjectivity...
to me, economy is a humanism, it's not a science...
if it was a science, it would embody the rigour
of science... but it doesn't... it feeds off emotional
content... the adrenaline junkies of wall st.?
    they're there, and they will always be there...
it's that the popularisation of darwinism has created
a polar-opposite reaction...
                  i'm just tired of hearing all these
evolutionary vocab., it bores me...
               i could say that it frightens me,
but what it really does... is what the quran does
to jews... it breeds infantilism:
  at least cultural marxism exposes what
capitalism has become, akin to soviet architecture
in terms of cultural productivity and output...
it's ******* ugly these days... repetitive...
           a thorn in my backside...
                               cultural darwinism = infantilism...
i can't reach back to a history that i am
allowed to reach back into...
      for example: the emotional exaltations of
the deutschordensstaat... the monkish order
of the teutonic order of knights (baltic state)...
           cultural darwinism will state that i'm being
a child... that i have no serious point to make...
but then: when was the last time you heard anyone
speak about the sexuality of clemency?
            how you can internalise ****** energy
and self-propagate to a pleasurable state of being
using the genitals, and not thinking of anything
pleasurable?
                when was the last time you heard that?
music? highly regarded in my concerns,
     i'd say the most necessary entity...
                 but cultural darwinism doesn't allow people
to reach for the past to represent the future
     and in doing what requires to be done now...
i inherited the practices of the teutonic order...
  i've never been to malbork castle...
but i look at it as: well... the polish-lithuanian
commonwealth didn't destroy it, but kept it,
     which means i respect the culture inherent in it,
i can appropriate it... ordensburg marienburg:
                        unlike what the germans did
                     to warsaw in 1944... i.e. completely
destroyed it...
         and so jagiełło... with two naked swords...
but of course, the argument is stated again:
i'm being "infantile"...
                     a child reading into history and extracting
an identity for myself that is not applicable to
the "modern" world...
                   but in a hundred years: future generations
will state the same as we have passed
judgement on preceding generations:
        barbarians... stupids...
                             i can already say the current
zeitgeist is idiotic; how about that, hmm?
                    i don't understand why cultural darwinism
wasn't spotted in the west, given that
     marxism devolved from an economic model
into a cultural model... and even if the architecture
of the west is superior to the yore architecture of communism...
the cultural output of western society has come
to represent the architecture of communism...
fact being: there was no time to build fancy places
of accommodation after the second world war in the east...
fast fast... cascade cascade... efficiency!
                    quick! before the next genghis khan
arrives!        
                      but cultural darwinism is as real
as cultural marxism...
                                         what counters the argument
is the difference between hogs and boars...
   boars in the east didn't receive a marshall plan
strategy... but the hogs in the west did...
again and again and again: sveeden was neutral
in the war... but it still received bribes after
the war ended... or is that shveeden?
                              so much of the narrative i'm
providing has no voice in the anglophone world
that it almost deserves me giving it one...
               at least for the "horde" of slavs that
became anglo-slavs to have something to balance on,
in the future.

— The End —