I've been reading a lot of nonsense about ****** objectification, like objectification is some kind of moral transgression. It's not, unless you want to indict others and yourself for thought crimes.
The term objectification is unfortunately mistaken as a stand in for ****** exploitation. 
 
 Objectification, for some, makes us feel attractive and desired, that we are beautiful, that we attract love and admiration, that we are recognized for our magnetism by strangers. That's certainly one of the motives for working out, watching the waistline and dressing well. 
For others it is about the understandable resistance of an unwanted approach, gaze, or suggestive body language, and while it may create within us a feeling of resistance, it is inherent in the human drama that has always been a part of us and, of course, these two experiences are not mutually exclusive.
But one thing objectification is not, is ****, manhandling, or ****** exploitation. We are all human beings, irrespective of our gender, ****** preferences or ****** sensibilities, with a commonality of desires for love and passion, and while we need to respect each other, we also don't do ourselves and others any favors by being to distressed or rabid about feeling another's heat for us.
Many of us are a great swooning web that wants to swallow and be swallowed in lust and love in search of a special someone, a kind of pre-objectification, for the purpose of future recognition.
****** OBJECTIFICATION is described as "the act of treating a person solely as an object of ****** desire". Objectification more broadly means treating a person as a commodity or an object, without regard to their personality or dignity:  sometimes referred to as "the zipless ****", a phrase coined by Erica Jong in the book "Fear of Flying". As described by her: -"It is a ****** encounter between strangers that has the swift compression of a dream and is seemingly free of all remorse and guilt. It is absolutely pure, there is no power game and it is free of ulterior motives". It has also been described as the perfect one night stand.
She cumed like a cinematic hissing pillow of flames
 
 The point of confusion is that the concept of objectification is mistaken for exploitation, and while sometimes associated, they are radically distinct from one another. Objectification is a DNA-driven biochemical prime directive to create .
Wetter than an otters pocket
 
****** EXPLOITATION: is a crime, meaning taking ****** advantage of another person without effective consent, and includes, without limitation, causing or attempting to cause the incapacitation of another person in order to gain a ****** advantage over such other person; causing the prostitution, or trafficking of another person; recording, photographing or transmitting identifiable images of private ****** activity or knowingly and intentionally exposing another person to a significant risk of a sexually transmitted infection.
OBJECTIFICATION: 
When we find another attractive, the brain has a tendency to flip out in a kind of eclipse as in a black out, like an electrical short perhaps, causing physical symptoms like heart rate increase, asinine nervous talking, sweaty palms, dry mouth, jumpy stomach, hot flashes, or more broadly speaking in a confused gibberish inspired by a spectacular entrancement of obsessive haywire desire. Objectification is the first door we walk though when we recognize our desire for another.
HYPOTHALMUS: part of the brain plays a masterful role in this, stimulating the production of the *** hormones testosterone and estrogen from the ****** and ovaries While these chemicals are often stereotyped as being "male" and "female," respectively, both play a role in men and women. As it turns out, testosterone increases libido in just about everyone. The effects are less pronounced with estrogen, but some women report being more sexually motivated around the time they ovulate, when estrogen levels are highest, which is why men tend to be more sexually aggressive. Women who are introduced to Testosterone for the purpose of body-building or gender change are often astonished by the huge uptick of libidonous desire.
Eeeeek, I could eat you like cherry pie !!!!!
"According to a team of scientists led by Dr. Helen Fisher at Rutgers, desire is broken down into three categories: lust, attraction, and attachment. Each one of these attributes is characterized by its own set of hormones activated by the brain"
LUST… Is driven primarily by Testosterone and Estrogen
ATTRTACTION… dopamine, norepinephrine, and serotonin motivate attraction
ATTACHMENT… oxytocin and vasopressin mediate attachment.
LOVE…When combined these three take us from us from pure objectification to the wholly trinity of love. ~~~~~
ARE YOU OBJECTIFYING ME
are you objectifying me?
i can bench 300 lbs. ten times
I'm a rich artist with a graduate degree
sun tanned
good teeth
driving a new BMW six series
with a rag top
big keen blue eyes
like a pretty girl
wavy hair
smooth *****
seven inch *****
nice ***
with the tender heart of a poet 
and a square jaw
want to wine and dine you
always smiling
bay *** kisses
silky tee shirts
Hawaiian 
luau vacations
or is it off to my castle 
in the 
Carpathians
impeccable manners
i smell like lavender coconut butter cream
live in a grand house
on 
beach front property
mucho bucks in the bank
nice as spice
you will never have to worry again
are you objectifying me?
GOOD
because I'm objectifying you
and id rather not hear anymore about it
lets not argue with nature
its like a rock falling
arguing with gravity
all the way down.

https://medium.com/@4zebra2u/******-objectification-the-lie-that-keeps-on-lying-fb79223d016f

now i know why i might engage with writing obscene
poems, chauvinism included, but still there
is no burning excuse in my mind with the way
western society actively desires censorship of certain
words, i already attributed censoring obscene
words as worse than what this tactic precipitates into:
the apathetic spread of *******, and violence
in general... it crosses my mind that sparring with violent
language cushions people from violet action...
to utilise violent language with that: pardon my French
attitude does more good than evil on the users...
how many road rage incidents could have been avoided
if people were unable to watch their tongue:
somehow we're making language sterile, by actively
pursuing this sort of censorship: which is not even
remotely politically related / motivated, we're bringing
an anaemic status quo in how fluidly we speak -
we desire to not hear the sometimes funny and the sometimes
awful... but we choose to see the god-fearing horrific...
ask any blind-man about music and he'd say:
well, i can dance to it in a nucleus position, centrally
gravitational pull - but ask the deaf man about
what he has to say when seeing **** written to counter
obscenity, as in cartoon-like: f&%£! it's just plain silly,
pocket-sized expression of psychotic behaviours,
rummaging through them i find only one source of inspiration:
the fact that we're in this blind-man's garden of innocence,
somehow dressed in the camouflage of censorship such
a tiny problem, that it does indeed require 23 mattresses
for the princess to not feel the frozen *** agitating her...
this sort of censorship in its application is under
a false sense of purpose, it really doesn't change people's
behaviour for the better, it doesn't pacify them, in does
the reverse: it infuriates, it makes violence more potent...
i'm still trying to figure out why such words
will make our perceptions saintly... unless of course
that's the reason behind them, as way of invoking an
anaesthetic placebo, a placebo that's actually active rather
than passive - presuming the anaesthetic placebo gives
way to an aesthetic active apathy-inducing ingredient...
meaning we can't bare to hear swear words, but we can
gladly watch 20 hours of 20 : 1 ****... censoring **** ****
**** **** will not escape Newtonian physics...
given our current scenario, Newtonian physics is far
more important than Einstein's relativity, i'd hate to be
in denial about cause & effect... as began with Socrates,
i too abhor moral relativism... of course Newton got
the gravity bit wrong, but i like the simpler version...
plus... there was no Romance with Einstein...
no apple, no tree, no Voltaire... meaning we don't necessarily
write history collectively, with all of us starting from
the big bang or the view from the Galapagos islands...
we don't... we continue writing history not from a
collective consciousness genesis... or from the collective
unconscious genesis - that's Jung with his archetypes
(devil, god, wise man, mother, father etc.) rather than
dreams (Freud) - we can chose were to write the future...
it's not so much ignorance as arm-chair intellectualism,
it's not about the safety of understanding something,
but the comfort of choosing to understand something...
which is pretty much to my excuse for my previous poems...
Heidegger... and that concept of Dasein -
i never bothered to understand it to the point of
reacting subjectively to it, by that i mean an interest
in writing about it, an interpolation of the subject with
alternative variations... i objectified it, i also countered it
when objectifying the concept turned out to be an
everyday object, shortening my quest.
the counter? hiersein, i.e. being here, here denoting a
solipsistic classification of awareness with / in the world -
which is basically me in my room, admiring my library,
my record collection, my torn sneakers, everything that
is classified exclusive to what dasein evolves into
when all its grammatical weaving only express a verb,
i.e. concern... so i thought, given this what can hiersein
(being here / nonchalance) actually show me as
my lack of interest in: "changing the world".
it became obvious yesterday, i had a hard time when i
didn't read the day's copy of the times (more on this later),
instead i had to suffice with construction site media,
you might have heard of this newspaper: the daily star,
at 20 pence a pop, you will see what £1.20 makes to
your psyche... but that's basically it, i objectified Heidegger's
concept and made it into an everyday object, in this
case and as the only case available: a newspaper -
and the trick is? well, with a newspaper like daily star
you don't actually experience dasein - it's completely
missing in this style of media, and that's worrying given
my barbaric poetry of yesterday... it's missing, not there,
such object-for-object chirality is what gives birth to
hiersein (being here); but today i returned to my usual
media diet, a flicked through the times and the natural
balance of personal objects and a fresh impersonal object
coexisted - the newspaper is truly the most adequate
compounded expression of Heidegger's dasein -
which i attribute to the constant need to emphasise an
empathy with others... empathising is a neutral form
of sympathising, since sympathy is sourced in shared
experiences: **** victims (e.g.) - therefore empathy is
something that in the ontological structuring of dasein,
which opposes the ontological structuring of hiersein,
which is structured by apathy; there is nothing else for
me to write, apart from the compendium proof
of the disparity of sources, i.e. headlines and subheadings:

- prior compendium -

i will never understand the point of autobiographies,
the majority of autobiographies are written
on a p.s. basis, after the facts / actions,
never immediately, concerning ideas /
solidified thoughts, thoughts condensed into idea
that allow thinking / cognitive narration to
continue regardless with what's being achieved...
i haven't anything autobiographical dissimilar
with something biographical...
Plato wrote that wonderful biography like
Shakespearean theatre, but i guess his critics felt
the claustrophobic tug & pull of mermaids...
still the problem ascends heights unparalleled -
even with ghost writers doing the leg-work...
cheap-buggers never learned to write, let alone read,
and here they are writing biographies...
ah, **** it... they're only sketches... whether biographic
or autobiographic... they're still mere sketches...
if this was the art world the revenue would come
posthumously, when it comes to literacy
nothing really distinguishes poets from
those prescribing pedestrian signs...
the Olympians can moan at the vacant stadium...
that there's a hierarchy in sports,
with the favoured monochrome idealisation
of where the bunny money is in the whirlpool
of the rabbit hole investment: football, volleyball...
but the literary events are the same...
people love to lie that they read the bestseller to
its full extent... but treat books like chairs and tables...
inertia prone half finished, sat on for 2 weeks of
the entire year... the Olympians are very much
like poets, and i care to distance myself from either
demand for more interest being invoked...
i like esoteric sports, i like esoteric writing...
but that's how it stand: poets are Olympians where
novelists are footballers, who retire at 30 and
then think about what to do with their wages
that are 10x higher than the everyday labourer...
start a restaurant, buy a strip of houses in Liverpool
like Michael Owen? good guess, here's to exploiting
youth disgracefully... that's what they're getting,
and these are the dilemma points to consider...
they're the equivalent gladiators of our time,
Rome was just a sleeper before it awoke once more...
but i'll never understand why these
people decided to exploit literature for gain...
all these academics with their pristine purity of discovery
are pacified when dictating print,
what poet, has a chance in hell, to appear gladly
excavated from Plato's cave of television?
about none.
i too was focusing on 20th century literature,
before 21st literature came about...
and i thought, oh god: they're really going to create
a totalitarian democracy, every artist will be
strip-searched for adding cinnamon and chilli to their
writing to bounce away from conformist
sober and sane extraction of alter wordings...
this 21st scene will become polarised...
we'll have the extinction of One Direction over a joint,
while the Rolling Stones drank a keg of whiskey
and pulled off a show... we'll have moralisation
of the fans to subdue the artists, which will mean
no artist will ably create a zeitgeist to rebel... everyone
will suddenly experience a weird sort of communism...
the worst kind... it will mean having
all the mental freedoms without the ability to
economise a coup... basically an inertia, an immediate
fatality... we can't economise a coup...
which boils down to why so many autobiographies
aren't really biographic, but rather consolidating,
by the meaning: autobiographic i intended to relate
the everyday... the most secretive account of life:
the everyday... this is stressing Proust,
even though i preferred Joyce over Proust i keep
the everyday the prime ideal: the only detail,
so that an autobiography can make sense,
automation of writing, like breathing or sneezing...
not some monetary-spinning device 20 years after
the facts... 20 years later you're pretty much writing
fiction... i am all for the biosphere of expanding
Alveoli... but when did you ever read an autobiography
that mentioned the taste of weak coffee
from the Friday of 20th of August 2016? never;
you read autobiographies
like you read self-help books...  waiting for
all that experience regurgitating motivational talk
about reaching a plateau of comparative success...
i can understand autobiographies written by the elders,
i understand biographies written about people
posthumously - but the tragedy is, given the spinning
wheel of money? we're getting "auto" biographies
written toward their 3rd volume renditions of
people aged 30... let alone 40... so much for
western society having the upper hand on political matters...
just saying: sort your own **** before trying
to sort other people's problems...
i could understand if these autobiographies were written
as described: automaton solo... but they're not...
before the compendium it's this everlasting presence
of a desired body of power being depicted:
prior the monopoly of knowledge, there was a monopoly
of literacy... given that 99% of us are literate, it
actually doesn't mean a third donkey's *******
whether we can read, or write, we got shelved in controlling
this once priestly vanity, we got taught bureaucracy alongside...
but the monopoly of literacy is way past us,
we're being convened in the ability to monopolise knowledge,
(oh please, don't let the paranoia seep in,
remember yourself when reading me, once in a while,
i don't drag you to phantasmagorical heights, even if i could,
i'd prefer you being agile in learning how to be bored
than letting your repel the same boredom i too share,
well... but **** me if you want to be the next Lenin) -
and the easiest way to monopolise knowledge? the media...
you basically need a lot of facts, and an evolved version
of dialectics, dialectics being the prime enemy of democracy
(it's not an alternative political model like despotism as
we are held to believe, it's actually dialectics,
suppressing other forms of collectivisation is the one
sure method of suppressing the attempt at dialectics
(individualism) - by making people overly opinionated,
ergo: the inability to engage with opinions, blind-alleys
throughout all plausible attempts to do so) -
so once you have enough facts to fiddle with the Rubik's cube
of juxtaposition, you end up with the ultra-scientific
form of dialectics... the matter of opinion in relation
to truth without a relative uniformity that prescribes
the status quo stasis is a debate about how accurate
we all are: i.e., is that true to the closest centimetre,
or the closest millimetre? it's a bit like watching a Zeno
paradox:
                 10.1                           and 10.01
      which one's tortoise and which is Achilles?
well, you know; ah ****! the compendium of the two
newspapers which got me slightly depressed...

- the compendium -

a. daily star

- B. BRO SAM'S SECRET 'NERVOUS BREAKDOWN'
- Laura & Jason's baby joy
- Robbie (Williams) £1.6M a night!
- BREXIT BOOST ON JOB FRONT
- ANGE DAD BACKS TRUMP
- JR'S wife Linda set to Holly
- Edd's no Beverly Hills flop
(Lana among cow *******)
- LAURA: OUR TINY TROTTS WILL BE WORLD-BEATERS
- FURY AT BAD LOSERS' SLURS
- 'Jealous sis' jibes
- MAKE YOUR KID AN OLYMPICS ACE
- Peaty: I want to be a rapper
- TV girl really ill
- **** SAM, 'ON THE BRINK OF BREAKDOWN'
- COSTA ***** HELL
- CAGING ANJEM WILL INSPIRE NEW JIHADIS
- POG'S LOADED AGENT BUYS CAPONE'S LAIR
- I'll make Kylie a pop star
- JEZ DOESN'T KNOW ANT FROM HIS DEC
- GUILTY OF DEMONIC SAVAGERY
- Great British Rake In
- Britain is *******
- BAYWATCH U.K.
- Va Va Vroom
- JUST JANE: My lover snubs plea to get wed
- HART: I'LL DECIDE WHEN TO GO.

b. the times

- Boy victim becomes a symbol of Assad's war
- US Olympics swimmers invented robbery tale, say Rio police
- Make us sell healthy food, supermarkets implore May (P.M.)
- Lost weekend of the lying best man
- fears over free speech delay law to silence hate preacher
- Met's 'commuter cops' live in France
- Husbands happiest when they earn half as much as wives
- Socialists plot to drive Britain left
- Fake human sacrifice filmed at European high altar of physics
- Officers investigated over ex-footballer's Taser death
- Number of pupils taking languages at record low
   (Mandarin @ 2,849 - % decrease of 8.1,
    alarmingly religious studies 27,032 up by 4.9%
    and psychology of status 59,469 up by 4.3%....
    meaning the mad will soon be diagnosing the sane
   as mad, just because the curriculum said so)
- Top grades add up to 100% at the school for maths prodigies
- Deprived sixth formers thrive on competition
- European students rush to get into British universities
- DVLA earns £10m selling driver's details
- Mystery over Kenyan death of aristocrat
- Journalist who voted twice reported to police for
  'fraud'
- Tomato tax threatens European trade war
- Love story of the Pantomime
- Homeless conmen fleeced widow, 81
- Brownlee brothers at the Olympics...
- Hopeful shoppers give sales a lift after Brexit vote
- MoD guard could be stood down despite terrot threat
- Owners spit mansion after failing to sell
- The job with international appeal: saving our hedgehogs
- Finch warns unborn chicks if weather gets warm
- Migrant violence rises after decline in policing around Jungle
- Longest road tunnel promises a relaxing ride under Pennines
- Mothers step up to drive Tube trains through night
(rowdy teens ageing exponentially on a Saturday night
when not getting a lift, ******...)
-MP's deal with bookmaker to be investigated
- Ebola nurse 'hid high temperature'
- Shoesmith's ex-huspand kept child *******
- Morpurgo war tale springs into life
- Supergran fights off teenage muggers
- IVF is more successful for white women
OPINION SECTION
- Great political fiction is good for democracy
- the BBC is leaving its audiences in the dark
- airline food? just pass me the gin and tonic
- Modern Olympics began on the fields of Rugby
/ greasy polls, holding firm, tongue tied,
  call for compulsory targets to tackle obesity,
second in line, mindfulness course, cost of planning,
puffins v. ship rats.... and all future letters to the editor /
- Moscow presses Turkey for access to US airbases
- Hundreds killed each month in Assad's jails
- Putin bans celebration of defeated KGB coup
(another James Bond movie on the cards,
i'm assured, and with a moral carte blanche) -
Hollande clams Carla Bruni spied concerning his
use of diapers...
- Euthanasia tourists flock Belgian A & E from France,
  where a revival of ****** made people dress shark-fin
  sharp on the catwalk...
- Mosquito pesticide linkage application = intersex /
   East German women
- Haiti cholera linked to Nepalese **** and ***** via
  the

for logic to work, certain coordination words must be excluded from ever attain a thesaurus privilege, certain words must attain the same consistency as numbers already present, for worded logic to work, certain words cannot entertain synonyms or antonyms, and must be freed from the shackles of sophistry.*

can one animate object truly objectify another
animate object?
i ask, because this supposed feminist
narrative of man objectifying a woman
seems rather bogus -
as i have to reiterate -
can an animate object truly objectify
another animate object?
           i "think" (i.e. "i" deny) this to be
highly unlikely, near impossible...
                  i am innately inclined to the puritanical
observation,
that i can only objectify an inanimate object,
point being: a man can no more
objectify a woman than an animate
object can make an animate an inanimate
object without having to subject himself
to hammering a nail into a plank of wood:
using a hammer.
how can an animate object (a man)
objectify another animate object (a woman) -
without, first of all objectifying a part of him
as quasi-inanimate, namely his phallus?
  women do not seem to be complaining
about objectification of a woman,
rather, a man objectifying his member -
  and isn't that the point, to posses an object
that you're not subject to obeying?
                             once more how can a woman
be objectified, when in fact man is
attempting to de-subjective himself from
his genitalia?
                         an animate object can't
objectify an animate object -
                            since the contradiction is:
both are in animation...
                  the only time objectification
happens is when an animate object
subject an inanimate object into a purpose...
a hammer is hardly a woman,
while is hammer one-dimensional,
   a woman is either mother, sister, vice,
      a one night stand, a girlfriend, or a wife...
   women are never objectified -
   they are subject to the self-objectifiction
of man, by man alone...
and if you think that's post-modernist jargon,
let me spell it out for you:
T, O, G, E, T, A, H, A, R, D, O, N.
objectification happens when an animate
object subjects / encompasses an inanimate
object into a subject of the animate object's
intent...
        unless of course you care to disclose
a fetish for necrophilia...
since only in necrophilia are women actually
objectified.

promise me! promise me to get me out of this hell-hole i put myself in! promise me! i don't know why i put myself through, several days of transcribing a snippet, this was merely a snippet from Kierkegaard's oeuvre, but, how unbelievable! each word was a labour, prop up the book in the right place, read, don't look at the keyboard, let the devil find work for idle hands... look for the devil who would be able to write like he might read Braille! my god, the punctuation, ****** an elephant's ***...the essential Kierkegaard - edited by howard v. hong & edna h. hong: hurt my sensibilities, or, rather, my pedantry, when it comes to punctuation... transcribing is not plagiarism... its brick-layer toils... one word, after another... if i were translating from Danish, i think i'd punctuate the text better: to give it some... panache! some: oomph! you know? this is my dedication, i'm supposed to be awake at 7am... i already shined my shoes, i've already prepped my white shirt, black trousers, black clip on tie, i have my papers (credentials) in order... tomorrow i'll be at the London Stadium overlooking West Ham take on Leeds United in the FA cup... like always, i'll be more interested in the crowd... spotting a pretty girl among the "yobs"... because i truly care about football when it's on the t.v.: in real life... i once stood with three cans of beer and watched a non-league / non-professional match compromising of enthusiasts in a park, at a distance... i couldn't see much... i still don't see much difference... unless it's on the t.v.: the stadium doesnt really "frighten" me... but this one time in the park, i sort of looked the Michael Myers part... headphones in... one young woman was trying to... communicate to this older woman: also walking her dog... about confronting me... i think i "said": gaze... i looked at them... the younger woman was trying to tell the older woman about confronting me... the older woman told the younger woman: YOU, HAVE, NOTHING, TO TALK ABOUT, WITH THIS, MAN! i was drinking a beer, standing... a decent distance from the football match: but i also remember that... that 1995 Charity Shield game at the Old Wembley between Manchester United & Newcastle: ants kicking a grain of sand... obviously i didn't understand why i might pretend to be a *****... my new favorite word... *****... alias for paedohpile... if i don't look menacing and some woman can "think" she stands a chance against me: merely posturing... then we have issues... oh **** me... transcribing... that's worse than plagiarism.... i once did the most pristine plagiarism job on some... social-science course up in Edinburgh... i was having to make up credit scores, being the romantic idiot... losing my virginity to Isabella of Grenoble... oh, get a French girlfriend, take up French... i hate the language... they write what they don't speak: phonetically... which is sort of in line with my prior ambition for the plunge - to transcribe some Kierkegaard, but also translate some SZYMON STAROWOLSKI observations... circa... 1650... the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth... sorry.. it's not going to happen... i've done enough transcribing enough *******'s worth of: this punctuation needs to... "go"... to better understand myself... through this iron maiden of: someone else wrote: what someone else wrote... i'll leave ol' SIMON for another take... given... transcribing is a labour... writing, freely... idiosyncratically: appealing to my, appeal...  how, why, when... oh i can deal with that, these days... it's not even concerning what sort of thesaurus peacocking exfoliation is being used / abused by the writer... i'm... more allured... by... punctuation... since i don't bother to rhyme, since i find all lyricism a tad bit... crass... what else is there? the measure of: how to stop... how to begin... how to "objectify" the conjunction-intermediacy of... punctuation... no manner of human speech can be / could be encapsulated by comparing it to a river... point being... i'd rather write as freely as i can, about the most mundane events in my own life: prop up my subjectivity than... somehow... "somehow"... succumb to some sensible objective reality... objectivity does not give me a drive... it does not equip me with a manly persevence... it's antithetical to what i understand as human nature simply because... ha ha... objectivity has been owned by the English... it's their lot of being sensible... like watching would-be journalists looking at what's currently happening in Kazakhstan... then trying to compare it to... the posturing: the civilian security of protests in Ham-Ham-H'America... and it's like... so what? the people are simply, expected to, take it?! the liberty's of the individual that believes himself to be outside the collective will... sure... well... sounds nice... unless of course... the hive really does come after you... i'm all for individual liberties, after all... i own a private library that could put the public library where i live to shame... although... i'll give them a sly one: Thomas Mann's Dr. Faustus... they owned it, i simply loaned it... fair enough... but i'd rather write about women... i was having my haircut done... closed my eyes... because... hell... the mirror and ****... with my eyes closed i was stroked by this blonde bombshell... we talked about owning dogs, about owning cats... Alsatians? oh, i really have a hard-on for them... i used to own a dobberman... prior to it being illegal to snip their ears and cut their tails... she was a cat that does that to her? like she looks to be self-harming? perhaps she should nickname him Freddy Krueger?! my maine ****? oh... it's rainy, he just sleeps in my bed... he usually sleeps with me.. what?! the bed's big enough for the both of us... i'd love to own a boxer... i'd love to own a rottweiler... i'd also love to own a Triumph bike...

one of my replies... you know, a liter of whiskey can go down well... i get double drunk from good conversation, i rarely encounter what i'd consider a good conversation... that's why... i much prefer to drink alone, of note... i had more fun pretending to talk to myself than expecting "talking" to be an anti-canvas with some, living, breathing: might have kidney failure, etc. punk or, sociopathic? here's the script:

see you now,, i'm just about to rewrite a Kierkegaard transcript.... i can't imagine it being much fun... the whole process is so unoriginal... but oh, oh so necessary... that i sort of don't want to live without it... bonus points... i''ve drank enough to make it... bearable... trans-scripting....i danced a little in my bedroom, donned my cat with a pair of sunglasses.... thank god i'm not kind of a sort of H'american version of a... "winner"... so much of life can be tolerated when it's not being competed for!...

i've just filled out an induction form for the West Ham stadium, played niceties with my supervisor, sent her an emoticon, LOLz back... i'm pumped up, ready to smack a few teenage boys into shape, what, could possibly go wrong? speaking below the depth of breath / audibility, watching the birds... i want, i want to give them a second, a third, a fourth... chance... let me give these people a chance... i know their failures... but... the possibility of being loved by one of them, whether man, or woman, whether pseudo-woman... i'll go as far as to say... i wouldn't mind a "Thai surprise"... i know they're capable of it... give me this already acquired heart of stone... and i'll show you... that they'll bleed rivers of honesty... just a little while... that is all i ask...

this is all, of course, before the plunge begins...
wait...l of course there's more, there have to be constellations
involved!

it was originally titled: Private Library Allure...
now, i'm "thinking": two ripe mangoes...
a mango curry or a mango chutney,
or perhaps, both?!

i have this one particular constellation in mind, that's visible to the naked eye, don't worry about - wait... let me take a second look:

•
                  •


                    •
      •



           •

•
    

            •          (circa)... the big wheel...
the grizzly she... in terms of gods & men...
there's an replica: much smaller...
so i guess this is the microscope: since it is enlarged
while the identical constellation
is a telescope...
       no matter... i'm thinking of this constellation

                                 •
                          
                          •
      
                   •
                       •
                    

                          •
                             •
                                •



              •
          ­                                            •

the scorpion constellation, it only appeared once
(to my knowledge) in pop culture,
in Dreamworks' the Prince of Egypt...

now wouldn't that be a waste... me simply drinking,
not allowing alcohol to be the extra calorie intake
that might require me to scribble...
waste of a good whiskey: should i simply drink it
and not focus on scribbling...

point being, i'm about to undertake something
i'm not very keen on, to prove a point,
i'm about to transcript two of the most profound pieces
of writing that recently caught my attention...

not to mention i'm reserving bragging rights...
my private library is... richer...
than the public library of the town of Romford...
i might be an alcoholic,
but i'm also a bibliophile...
there's nothing more precious thank a book...
perhaps a tonne of bricks...

why did i decide to cycle in these temperatures...
****'s sake... i'm old school,
i don't "trust" wi-fi cordless earphones...
the temperature dipped so low that
now the wires are performing at sub-optimal standards...
sort of hushed...
mind you... i love the cold of the January nights...
******* get such a hard-on for the wind
that they almost feel like they've been pierced...

none of the following will be original content,
but i just have to transcript it...
maybe a whiskey refill... a cigarette...
i need to get into the groove of typing up
someone else's work...
oh ****, there are two of them...
well... at least one of them i will not have to translate...
however: do i want to include the original...
all those diacritical markers (ctrl + c / ctrl + p)
will be rather fiddly... do i have the time?

- oh, right... i'm here... the above was...
"somewhere" / "sometime" else...
a sort of... quantum-dasein...
past-participle... black hole... blah blah...
i'm still gearing up for the transcript
of Kierkegaard...
the translation of that ****** equivalent
of the Czech: YAN HUß

-------------------------------------- (pending line)

the pending line is not moving... i've already
written a pre-scriptum a day "late"...
i think i'll manage the Kierkegaard...
but none of the ****** "crap": since...
i'm not about to translate...

once more, please refer to the essential Kierkegaard...
edited by howard. v. hong...
& edna h. hong...
            hong? i too have a terrible surname...
a bit like ******, or Stalin...
people see Elert... they immediately prompt me
with: so... you're AH-LERT?!
i never hit them back with with...
you sort of missed this zeppelin...
it's etymologically german...
in earnest... it's missing: SCH...
that's... ESCHLERT...
          but i have no trouble with people
who like... low hanging fruit...
pedestrian interactions...
         a peasant among among peasants...
a peasant who can discriminate against
peasants...
my given surname at birth was no much better...
fellow countrymen...
oh... i remember it... this one time...
tricked me...
open your mouth...
so i opened my mouth...
then quickly closed it...
i was spat at... a fellow countryman spat
in my face...
although he was aiming at my mouth...
i hold... not allegiance to the English...
1997... why was i deported?
for being an economical migrant?!
oh... the world is now, somehow, ******* welcome?!
i hold not allegiance to the English:
to the tongue: all...
but i also hold not allegiance to my inherent
****** reference... i'd rather just call it
a "reference"...

i abhor both parties... one for sort of telling me to
******* because:
they're now the church-going party of people
and my grandfather was conflated with being
a communist party member:
sure... since... socialism in a soviet
satellite was very much the same sort of shin-dig
as it was in RaSHa... ROSIYA...
*******... wanking me off a little...
**** Poland... **** England...
both can sink... to... whatever they deem
to be acceptable by their standards of...
oh... in England... peer Lord Ahmed... *****...
Rotherham... fun times!
i don't even want to know anything about
Poland.... my ethnic class by birth...
i'd rather ******* and create trans-ethnic mongrel
gremlins with a a girl from Kenya...
in Kenya...
yeah... me... in Kenya... creating a pseudo-Brazillian
republic of... copper-skinned polymaths &
multilingual freaks!
sign me up!
                  
i really didn't expect to mind much of me...
it's nice that... they read so little nd watch so much regurgitation
of a t.v...

like i once pointed out: objectivity is...
overrated... hell... it's more than that...
by now it has been hijacked by fake-news and
anti-science pseudo-narratives...

which tells you a lot about a people who
seemingly tolerate Muslims...
tolerating Muslims that don't tolerate Sufism...
i'm good with the Turkish barbers...
anything else... you better ask a Hindu...
how do Hindus "tolerate" Islam... if, at all?

these are not my words... they are a verbatim
transcript that most public libraries will not own,
but i own... ergo...

the subjective existing thinker is aware of the dialectic of communication. whereas objective thinking is indifferent to the thinking subject and his existence, the subjective thinker as existing is essentially interested in his own thinking, is existing in it.

(insert: my own questioning furthered from the genesis of this 19th century Danish thinker... point aside... i am... the queen's subject... i am not, the queen's object... the queen is not forcing me to be subjectively objectionable to... say... building a new wing for Windsor Castle... i can't be, regarded as the queen's object... constitutional monarchy doesn't work through the expedience of extension... i am the queen's subject, i am not her object... i am subjected to the queen... the monarch... but i'm not... "objected"? i'm not objecting to the hierarchy she presupposes, predisposes with... it's almost a "paradox"... but as a subject... in the most immediacy... as a subject... i am not her object... i am not her servant! that some people, within her immediacy are her objects, by regal extension, her guards, her... ******* tea nannies... sure... but... i am beyond her claim for being objectified... i am "subjectified"... how? i can fester... concern for the monarch, i can adorn her with "dasein": care... but her regal extension dilutes itself... her regal power... the cut-off point... is... when she can no longer objectify me... i can be no more her ******* tea-*****-nanny... her soldier... hell... a police officer is not made a police officer by some royal decree.... a police officer is a subject of the regal authority... a soldier? an object of the regal authority... why? the soldier serves the crown... the police officer? serves the public: the subject of the subject(s)... not... like the solider: the object of the object... to be subjected to "something": is hardly demeaning when otherwise the supposed stance of being "demeaned" is to be: objectified... counter to any sort of "argument": to be objectified... is to be spared... the experience of being: subjected to... i.e. / e.g. to objectify a woman... is a synonymous expression for... not subjecting a woman to... what objectifying her in the first place might... entail... by objectifying a woman... you're at least not subjecting her to... the undercurrents of objectification per se...

even i am thinking to myself: this sounds stupid...
the fox is currently having an asthmatic fit of giggles
come 2:20am...
if i am objectifying a woman as a "thinking thing"...
then... i'll be less likely to subject her to: think...
if i am objectifying a woman as a hammer...
then... i'll be less likely to ask her to:
also bring some nails along...
that's the positive on the micro-scale...
because on the macro-scale?
i'd rather be the queen's subject than...
be her... well... the extension of the queen:
her object... her tea-*****-nanny...
her soldier... her... prime minister...
it's a ******* weird dynamic... but...
it's the most pristine that has ever existed... period...

constitutional monarchy ought to be
the envy of the world, for some of the bad apples...
it still i... it should never be undermined...
should it ever be... i'd call that... treason!
to the very fabric of reality!
and as someone who was diagnosed as schizophrenic?!
go figure... but don't come cryuig to me...
make, sure...
you have some "ice-cream" **** readily available
to sa e you, some Rotherham **** heart-throb...
why oh why... having lived n these Isles...
for as long as i have...
the would me mothers of my would be children...
i'm not even going to beg to, ask...
low i.q. breeds low i.q.:
naive... people(s)...
           genius is an aberration...
it's a  mutation...better stuid and reproductive...
work along: plenty for the ants..
*******, ants...
and once they age?
darts?! football matches?

i can't blame them!
i have yet to cite them proper...
although: thank god the filter
of having to invest in having to read...
in people actually reading

therefore, his thinking has another kind of reflection, specifically, that of inwardness, of possession, whereby it belongs to the subject and to no one else. whereas objective thinking invests everything in the result and assists all humankind  to cheat by copying and reeling off the results and answers, subjective thinking invests everything in the process of becoming and omits the result, partly because this belongs to him, since he possesses the way, partly because he as existing is continually in the process of becoming, as is every human being who has not permitted himself to be tricked into becoming objective, into inhumanly becoming speculative thought.

the reflection of inwardness is the subjective thinker's double-reflection. in thinking, he thinks the universal, but, as existing in this thinking, as acquiring this in his inwardness, he becomes more and more subjectively isolated.

the difference between subjective and objective thinking must also manifest itself in the form of communication ˣ. this means that the subjective thinker must promptly become aware that the form of communication must artistically possess just as much reflection as he himself, existing in his thinking, possesses. artistically, please note, for the secret does not consist in his enunciating the double-reflection directly, since such an enunciation is a direct contradiction.

ordinary communication between one human being and another is entirely immediate, because people ordinarily exist in immediacy. when one person sttes something and another acknowledges the same thing verbatim, they are assumed to be in agreement and to have understood each other. yet because the one making the statement is unware of the duplexity (dobbelthed) of thought-existence, he is also unable to be aware of the double-reflection of communication. therefore, he has no intimation that this kind of agreement can be the greatest misunderstanding and naturally has no intimation that, just as the subjective existing thinker has set himself free by the duplexity, so the secret of communication specifically hinges on setting the other free, and for that very reason he must not communicate himself directly; indeed, it is even irreligious to do so. this latter applies in proportion to the essentiality of the subjective and consequently applies first and foremost within the religious domain, that is, if the communicator is not god himself or does not presume to appeal to the miraculous authority of an apostle but is just a human being and also cares to have meaning in what he says and what he does.

objective thinking is completely indifferent to subjectivity and thereby to inwardness and appropriation; its communication is therefore direct. it is obvious that it does not therefore have to be easy. but it is direct, it does not have the illusiveness and the art of double-reflection. it does not have that god-fearing and humane soliciude of subjective thinking in communicating itself; it can be understood directly; it can be reeled off. objective thinking is therefore aware only of itself and is therefore no communication, at least no artistic communication, inasmuch as it would always be required to think of the receiver and to pay attention to the form of communication in relation to the receiver's misunderstanding. objective thinking is, like most people, so fervently kind and communicative; it communicates right away and at most resorts to assurances about its truth, to recommendations and promises about how all people someday will accept this truth - so sure is it. or perhaps rather so unsure, because the assurances are recommendations are the promises, which are indeed for the sake of those others who are supposed to accept this truth, might also be for the sake of the teacher, who needs the security and dependability of a majority vote. if his contemporaries deny him this, he will draw on posterity - so sure is he. this security has something in common with the independence that, independent of the world, needs the world as witness to one's independenceso as to be certain of being independent.

ˣ double-reflection is already implicit in the ideas of communication itself: that the subjective individual (why by inwardness wants to express the life of the eternal, in which all sociality and all companionship are inconceivable because the existence-category, movement, is inconceivable here, and hence essential communication is also inconceivable because everyone must be assumed to possess everything essentially), existing in the isolation of inwardness, wants to communicate himself, consequently that he simultaneously wants to keep his thinking in the inwardness of his subjective existence and yet wants to communicate himself. it is not possible (except for thoughtlessness, for which ll things are indeed possible) for this contradiction to become manifest in a direct form. - it is not so difficult, however, to understand that a subject existing in this way may want to communicate himself. a person in love, for instance, to whom his ****** love is his very inwardness, may well want to communicate himself, but not directly, just because the inwardness of ****** love is the main thing for him. essentially occupied with continually acquiring the inwardness of ****** love, he has no result and is never finished, but he may nevertheless want to communicate; yet for that very reason he can never use a direct form, since that presupposes results and completion. so it is also in a god-relationship. just because he himself is continually in the process of becoming in an inward direction, that is, in inwardness, he can never communicate himself directly, since the movement is here the very opposite. direct communication requires certainty, but certainty is impossible for a person in the process of becoming, and it is indeed a deception. thus, to employ an ****** relationship, if a maiden in love yearns for the wedding day because this would give her assured certainty, if she wanted to make herself comfortable in legal security as a spouse, if she preferred marital yawning to maidenly yearning, then the man would rightfully deplore her unfaithfulness, although she indeed did not love anyone else, because she would have lost the idea and actually did not love him. and this, after all, is the essential unfaithfulness in an ****** relationship, the incidental unfaithfulness is to love someone else.

as a side-note... these impossible, to my mind:
imaginary "problems"...
say, for example...
the racist... the non-racist... and the... anti-racist...
do i use racial slurs, sure, but i always tend
to "translate" them to by implicitly urban scenario
tokens... i'm a "******" if i don't get on time,
i'm supposed to work for free...
i think of racism along the lines...
well... you, know... that Pakistani grooming
gang in Rotherham...
it doesn't affect me personally,
i'm a bachelor, i don't have a daughter...
but... even on my level, since i'm so far away
from the issue... i start to get affected...
**** is the lowest of the low...
i once ****** a *******... all giggly and drunk
at first... but then... she started crying during *******...
a burn-out moment on her behalf...
i had to stop... o.k. you're selling yourself... willingly...
but... i'm not going to... whatever...
if she might have claimed p.t.s.d.
i could also claim the same...

*** is ugly... just before perching myself on the windowsill
once the night arrived...
i heard a voice in the darkness... thanking me...
at the end of my garden... i wasn't exactly listening:
i never listen... but these words of: thank you
sort of penetrated me...
where is the supposed "Ummah"
when it comes to the Uyghurs?!
the fond fellows of Arabia... would rather send
their suicide virgins to the western land
with prospect of conquest, with prospect of seeking
our proselytes... than...
keep their Ummah intact... do the Arabs really think
that their Chinese believers are...
worth so little to them?
           where are the attacks on China?!
eh... Pakistani uncle said grandma
then decided to **** some cousin...
  sorry... low... hanging... fruit...
   i need a drink...
                            
        i can understand racism... esp. given the attempt
at a multicultural society...
i rather think of myself as a non-racist...
****** a black girl, ****** a Thai girl...
****** an Indian girl...
but... this... white, female, anti-racism stance?
i don't get it... daddy issues?
they must be daddy issues... parental issues...
you have to purposively make yourself anti-racist...
affirmative action buzzwords...
you can never be: the highest pinnacle of negation:
not-racist... you have to be actively: anti-racist...
you can never be passively: non-racist...
you have to... do... "x, y & z"...

these words shouldn't even see the light of day...
so much *******...
all of it... crass...
as much as the Brazil-Project of interracial
new-Arab interbreeding sounds great...
newly tanned "Spaniards"... "Arabs"...
"Indians"... if you've ever visited Kenya...
i remember being approached by these three gorgeous
Kenyan girls working the pandering circuit...
black skin glistening in the moonlight...
as if someone rubbed them with butter...
plump... one of the local Kenyan boys asked whether
i'd like to visit a local bar... i declined...
i forgot myself... took to the hammock...
slept the whole night in the open...
some ****** stole my cognac while i was asleep...
me? we best interact...
but... interracial breeding sort of disrespects...
the seeming aeons of... what allowed black people
to be black... what allowed white people to be
white...
it's no good, like... black girls are not angry
when the white girls are giving up so much ***
to their male counterparts?

if i'm supposed to "think" about race... sure... i'll give
it a short shot... because i'm expected...
i have a furry river and.. by now:
i'm more res vanus than res cogitans...
i don't think i need to think on the basis of
narration... i'll just be reactionary...
not because it's easier... it just seems rather...
necessary...

anti-racist: tropes! they are just that... people try
so hard to not-be... X... that they almost forget that...
they are X... because they are compensating for
the environment they were brought up in...
daddy's sins... mother's opinions...
by now a racist is better suited for conversation
than an anti-racist... who the ****** bleached "us"?
it's like: i can't the difference between people...
like... Somalis don't look more ancient than the rest
of the Africans?! maybe i should find more Ethiopians...

i sometimes think of "existing" in a way that...
elevates the posit of: exiting...
sure... cogito, ergo... blah blah...
but that's not enough... to exist is also readying
yourself to exit... existing is a pseudo-continuum
of rented... time, body... in order to...
make the banal finalities of / for an exit...

what's the biggest difference
between 20th century's
french and german
existentialism,
    and the 21st century's
primarily, anglo-sphere,
realisation of an existential
   "crisis"...
           anti-jew meme...
         the globalist octopus...
imagine...
     some people have
recovered from an existential
crisis, having established
vast constructs of thought
way back in the 20th century,
namely
the french, and the germans..
but...
my oh my oh my my...
the anglo-sphere of linguistics
has only, "just now"
awoken to this...
   quiet a predicament,
wouldn't you say?
                         fertile ground...
oh sure, there was existential
angst in the anglo-
sphere among irish
pillars...
                beckett, joyce...
but concrete architectures
of thought, regarding existentialism,
seem to be absent...
  so... counter-argument:
so how come i can
freely buy a copy of some
german philosopher,
a french novelist turned
philosopher...
           but...
  i'm skint... when it comes
to english thinkers more
or less associated with
my status, rather than stance,
on contemporary "translation"?
   elitism...
no... it's not that...
      i could have just well
have procured
a life helping out my father
in industrial roofing...
             i didn't mind roofing...
it's not an exactly pristine
labour of love sort
of environment...
the scottish widows' h.q.
roof near st. paul's?
        me.
   i was part of that
monstrosity...
       but... come again?
but there are some many attachment
cursors when it comes
to an anglican take
on "revising" continental
existentialism...
        whatever crisis
the continental people
felt, and consolidated
the 20th century people...
is only just starting to bud
in the anglo-phonic world...
start-up, island,
end result,
    h'america and australia...
there was never a question
as to why, or if,
the english-speaking
people would ever entertain
existentialism,
but, suddenly they are,
at least starting to look
into the pit,
from their ivory towers...
immediate escape
impetus?
      reach for the fictive
narrative,
                disavow journalism...
make journalism bedfellows
with political rhetoric...
there's no debate...
circus, however you look
at it...
             you can't fathom
an abstract variant
of the german or the french
mind, gripped by
an existential critique,
a piquancy,
    a pedantry...
in the english speaking world...
there are,
just simply...
   too many attachments
to deal with...
       - growing a beard:
meant exactly that -
eat ****.    
         i don't see where
there a "me" to be found
in a (0, 0) starting space,
of net-worth-"work"...
     coumpters-freeze
network...
for a language...
that ridiculed,
or became succinct
in succumbing
to its anglo-preferences
of objectifying counter-standards
for its own...
shortcomings...

  what has 20th century
existential philosophy have
to do with "anything",
esp. if arrived from
the either french
of german, cultures?

we have Joe Slave over 'ere...
oh right... sorry...
paweł nowak....
just took joe stephen slave's
role was
the person, the hands,
in a recycling factory...
do you mind?
  rather:
do you mind...
teaching your natives...
   to...
   and you know how that
cindarella story ends...

introducing existentialism
to the brits and,
generally,
  the anglican variety of
the tongue, being
used...
   will end up as, failure...
the 20th century
taught me this,
the irish failed,
the french
and the germans...
basically a "foreign" idea
is more than just...
******..
the people are ******,
with paradoxes
of their women...

                sure... a bit like
Iceland...
oh, ****, a bit too close
to the continent...
like madagascar
  is to africa...
and sri lanka is to india?
i'm not 'ere to care to
the idiosyncratic
concerns of island people...
contra the, "collective"...

island people will forever
remain island people,
"solipsistic", idiosyncratic,
idioms...
            i can't change that...
always prone to export...
but never to import...
    island people,
       the **** is there to say?
ever bewilder yourself
over chanel 4 news...
and how...
  john snow is slipping
into dementia?
      you listen to the cue?
no?
                  sorry... john...
dementia on the horizon...

attempting to adapt
existentialism into england
will fail,
given their moral high-ground
of the "migrant crisis"...
it's an island...
  the borders are clarifying,
distinct,
        sure, the people can be *****
when their language
is bored in being
a "lingua franca"...
         but other people have
other, in-debt defences...

western slavs?
ever hear a spaniard speak
pollack, just because
he hiked with a polish girl?
yeah... mahler...
                       violins and ****...
you only listen:
                  for an idea...
it comes, it comes,
it doesn't come...
well... you move onto
some khachaturian...
        so,                 no biggie...

you can't import continetal
thinking to an island people,
they have no concept
of borders...
their naive presupposing
barrier, centered-ground is
unshakeable...

   existential philosophy
"meme" rate of survival is... ?
0.1,
binary, negation, an affirmative
statement,
and then the fiasco...

       it doesn't help
that there's an alternative
outlet via h'america or australia...
i'm not looking
at the "bigger picture",
when there isn't one...

     20th century existentialism
will not work in 21st century england,
or any english-speaking world
to begin with...
there are just, too many,
attachment points,
         as many nurtured
nostalgia avenues
as there are amnesia riddled
currencies of attention
exhaustion...
        it's just a pristine model
to revive the serf...

there's no point reading existentialism
to a people,
so far lodged in their
isolationism that they
can claim, both an island-stature...
and two continents,
by extension
       of stating: "being aware"...      

i guess you have to be born
on the continent
to read anything by 20th century
writers,
but... trying to implement
the word...
into the idiosyncrasy
of island-dwelling people,
akin to the English?

                    i'm not even going
to bother trying...
they're island-folk...
   they "think" of borders akin
to coastlines...
and not migration
fake bordering of a contradiction
of peoples occupying
a quicksand pit
of looking at a geography map...
island-folk...
  they know border...
because they know... island...

you can't translate
something that's already
paradoxical to them
  (hypocritical, is not a milder
term of usage for the desired
execution)...
     no...
                not going to happen...
two islands,
some set of continental enclaves...
culture...
whatever you want...

             i've lived with them,
even though i've lived pretty much
among either the irish migrants,
or the scots...
    you're not going to translate
an island, into a continent's
auxiliary...
  right now...
you'd think that
   Estonia would become
characteristic of an island-people
auxiliary mentality...

       i can't blame these people
though...
   an island environment
provides an island people
mentality...
    if you have never been
part of a congregation,
geographically...
   yes...
      but they're borrowing
continental idiosyncracy...
****** *****...

   Iceland?
            yeah... oh yeah...
they're hot on the topic of what
island life is like...
being so...
   conservative that they even
have developed apps
for people to check their
genetic proximity
and any immediacy to live,
+ baggage...

      the Brits were always 'ere...
the Icelandisch?
were always there...
          and...
  sorry... for the already given
postcard: wish you were
here analogy of...
            curiosity killed
the cat...

           but island dwelling people
will always be,
an island dwelling people...
right now,
you do what i do...
you play chamaleon...
  "sociopath"...
                you...
begin with: a-pathy...
          without pathology
looking for... what requires
you to mingle with the most
pathological examples of
a hushed sanity of society...

          and...
          your luck, as well as mine...
nothing really happens...
like butter smeared
over a gently toasted
piece of toast.

hello tomorrow.

only today i came across what interested Heidegger
after writing being and time, a selection
of essays, revealing that he came to be interested
in language - not knowing this, by mere study
of the introduction some things became apparent -
being quiet democratic in my reading it's a shame
i don't have the academic leisurely pace of becoming
a Heidegger specialist - it's the almost damnable
pulling-apart having to cite many influences and not
focusing on one, but since i don't have academic
leisure, the summary in the introduction
by jeffrey powell (editor) of the book heidegger
and language will just have to do: apropos this
being an antidote to those bemoaning that we only
write about reading books, carefully choreographic
our lives for mints and espressos and ammoniac
(inhalants in a boxing ring nearing a knock-out) -
hide pretty bird, hide, hide pretty pretty bird
first your song inside a cage, then the cage inside
the heart, and thus the song with the cage,
silenced inside the cage, raging mad inside the heart.
well, the antidote is that i already have some ideas,
and reading the essays contained in this book would
put me off what i was intending to write about,
so, in summary, read the major work, then read introductions
of critical books from those studying the subject,
invent an original approach from that, and elsewhere.
before i venture into the whole affair of having to
reread certain passages from the introduction as to
guide me in this Bermuda Delta i what to do a little
sidewinder interlude:
in chemistry there are two major bonds (for the purpose
of what i'm intending, let us just assume that
we're only talking about π and σ bonds) -
and while psychology dehumanises man to strict
theories without clear proofs to a universal standard,
i want to do what will come later regarding Heidegger's
take on language, for me there's no clear philosophical
vocabulary to be used - i'm not into orthodoxy and
rigidity which says

                piquant sun strokes against
                the bargains of spring's last
                hope for a kept bazaar
                to bloom to then deflower
                petals from trees fall to earth
                like glasses, the tree stands
                as a reflection of shattered glass
                the petals remain the tree intact
                worn at the Royal Ascot
                or in a woman's hair.

obviously something like this is a poem - what i mean,
however, concerning what's identifiable as philosophy is
to me the following:  
                                        blah = monotone x algebraic
                                                    for­ non-differential
                                                    purposes, just filling up
                                                    the page

            blah blah blah blah blah blah subjectivity blah blah blah blah blah blah essentially blah blah blah blah blah blah in-itself blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah thing-external v. thing-internalised blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah metaphysics blah etc.
                      
                          and so on and so forth, a fixation on using a certain vocabulary to be equivalent or justification to be "apparently" talking philosophy... yet still no gain from the words of grammatical categorisation... for me? too many propositions, the basis of what the academic environment deems to be "pure" verbiage, or none (akin Wittgenstein) - that famous quote about a lion and having tea on Tuesday... or as Buddha would say: said so to shatter thus the fear of ketamine thoughtlessness;

but that's beside the point, i want to return to
how any chemist might treat psychology as a science,
keep it up to date, given that psychology likes
to shove its nose in everyday activities for a strict
expression of equivalent rubric that mathematics already
possesses and shoves into a child's brain to make
the child become accustomed to symbol encoding;
so π and σ bonds, let's say between two carbons atoms...
but in psychology we don't have the luxury of
many alternative examples...
me and language: to write in terms of optics,
to encode images rather than sounds,
language as optometry rather than a hearing-aid...
so what "elements" do we have in psychology,
essentially what defines consciousness, its sub-plot
and its unfamiliar territory - the using the dusty
Freudian units, we know the concept of the superman
(superman was a bad bad boy) from Nietzsche
evolved into the super mm hmm, and we know
there are two other units, mm hmm and the id /
it or that? it is for me, that is for scalpel for the analyst,
the prober, unlucky for the person who took to
objectifying himself, but better than being objectified -
still, remember i'm working with language in terms
of optics rather than phonetics - enough organic chemistry
diagrams and you will see that the bonding between
mm hmm, the super mm hmm and the gemini id
(one the patient, the second the analyst) trapped inside
an electron cloud of bio-electric processes is rigid and
stable due to the opposite of π and σ,
i chose the optic route using the bonds δ and ψ -
symbolically δ is the mathematical term for sum -
summation, the total of - currently i have no clue about
the significance of ψ just yet, but ψ is a symbol of
psychology like caduceus is the symbol of medicine;
a brief expansion on the natures of the bonds,
quack-science δ bonds being all alike meaning uniform
meaning holding every aspect uniformly, meaning
that a δ bond is of the same nature between mm hmm
and super mm hmm in a petri dish within the
solvent of the conscious sub-plot, likewise other variations
δ bonds are uniform bonds, i.e. ensuring one detail
is related to the other, and so to others.
ψ bonds, not much expansion here as promising detail,
asthma the highest research of breath, and all
major theoretical squeezing through the Suez -
depending on the measure of breaths, we can depend
on the internal things - but never so much Pamplona encierro
cleaning-up to do theorising an affirmative sound
like mm hmm, or other affirmative synonyms -
if it were can *****, it would be mince rather than
a clean dissection - mince meat, should mm hmm be
not an *****, let alone a body. so many attachments
to mm hmm these days, it should be attached to zoological
studies than activities of breathing: theory as a cage,
one after the over, eventually not even cages but
the caged animal turning into matryoshka doll -
Kant doesn't venture into the dynamic of his thing-in-itself
represented by the matryoshka as ad continuum -
maybe he does, but to me here merely pinpoints it,
coins the phrase noumenon and ensures the thing
is opened, god or nothing is put in it, the thing is
closed, locked and the key to unlocking it is thrown
away and never found (i'll mention a short process of
his argument some other time, most notably his
three impossibilities concerning proving the existence
of god: ontological, physico-theological and cosmological).
yes, i know, when reading these ****** books
i have to paint the arguments, i need to simplify
them, a poet reading a philosophy has to paint
the words - the best poetic technique applicable to
understanding philosophical books is imagery,
not as a technique of for the purpose of writing my own,
but as a way to paint what was written by some boffin -
precursor to understanding the three impossibilities
of proof, i find it strange that such proof is necessary,
what would you do with it? prove it once on
paper, or in your head, show it to everyone and then
slowly everyone is able, then the so called "man in
the sky" - it seems strange that scientific positivism
of the Enlightenment supposed such a proof, the proof
is more implausible than the existence - Bertrand...
just smoke your pipe and sit in the easy-chair talking
******* with Wittgenstein... more on that later.
i promised quotes from the above mentioned book
(heidegger and language)...

           das wort kommt zur sprache,
             das seyn bring sich zum wort.

working from phenomenology, to later reject it,
thus precipitating the school of deconstruction-ism,
and with Heidegger we do get to atomic elements
from words, from compounds, thank god there are
no sub-atomic ventures with language, quiet impossible
to de-construct language beyond this point,
let's face it, if you go as far as:
'as preparatory for raising the question of being...
language is one of three constituent moments in
the analysis of the being of the da in dasein (being there)'
furthered by equal atom bombardment replacing
the un-compounded sein (verb, be) with seyn (conjunction /
noun, being) - this is modern physics to my understanding,
i'm not particularly interested what he's saying,
i'm interested in painting what he's saying -
i'll spare you the details of what philosophical systematisation
is actually involved in: restricted vocabulary -
a certain limit is allowed, rigid meanings are involved,
rigidity of drilling in of non-deviation, philosophical
systems are not dishonest in that they are consistent with
a limited vocabulary - i will spare you the torture of
seeing one ball being juggled - the shrapnel of the English
language makes it even more distracting to understand,
as with the above, another e.g.?
'every saying of beyng is held in words and meanings
which are understandable in the view of everyday
references of beings, and are exclusively thought in
that view, but which as expressions of beyng,
are misunderstood...' of course i could be cherry picking
Heidegger like a Jehovah's witness cherry picking
the bible, but i'm not interested in what he's saying,
merely painting you the picture, to scale then:

books                      -              celestial objects
chapters                 -               cycles of celestial objects
paragraphs            -               prime features of
                                                 celestial objects
                                                 (e.g. Jupiter's red eye,
                                                  Saturn's ring,
                                                  Earth's oceans
                                                  and continents)
sentences                 -              
words                       -
syllables                   -
letters                        -             atoms / elements  
                                           ah, it was going oh so well,
i think i started too big, and went into too small,
which made visualising sentences and words and syllables
hard to compare what could fit between
Australia and and atoms of RuXe - by chance ruxe is
an actual word, no as stated ruthenium and xenon,
although that too, ruxir (ruxo, ruxin, ruxido) in Galician
meaning to roar.

Sipping cerveza with
Beautiful bocce ***** bowling
Through Pacific sands
While the sun tracks into the horizon

I noticed a while ago.
I am subconsciously
Objectifying everyone.
And when I think about it
Objectified people
Are easier
To deal with.
I don't think this odd tendency of mine is
Natural.
In fact, I'm sure it isn't.
It's the result of a subdued conscience.
A conscience I always had.
I cared deeply for others.
I felt bad
Cried myself to sleep
For the smallest things.
An offhand insult I wasn't sure was even heard.
A chip taken from the lunch table.
An argument to be forgotten and ignored the next day.
I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach.
I cried
Hated myself
Continuously hit myself
Cried more
And had nightmares.
As I got older
These feelings faded
But still I get these pains in the pit of my stomach.
And I remember how I was
Before I was numbed by
Objectification.
I saw people as people.
I cried because
I don't want people to feel bad.
Not because of me!
I can't think of anything worse
Than being that picture on a dartboard
That gives the incentive to
Never.
Miss.
To be hated.
Even disliked.
Thought of as trash
As I often am
I suspect.
Looks of disgust I draw
From people I care for
Who I don't want to hurt
Who constantly hurt me.
It tears me apart
And as I write this I feel tears welling up
Which they haven't done for
Years.
I began this objectification.
"That's just a dumb person."
"He's an idiot."
"Just one of those mean kids."
And I stopped caring if I hurt them
Because caring hurts.
A lot.

You are not an object, you are a soul
encapsulated in the beautiful-
in a sense , the innocence you embody is heavy sent
but in this world it's a countdown like
eleven. . . ten. . .
dissolving as you appear as an object
**** your self out for the pleasure of the audience
It's tragic, wreaks havoc, it's intrinsically implied
the less you are true to the beauty that is you, the more your beauty is not reflected
is rejected, denied

Criticism is validating
Your love is a choke hold
A marriage committed to my compromise
Generic mending
Each strand of bronzed chunk, represented a vow you gave me
The scissors cold and bare, cutting it away from my body
Swept into the nearest waste facility  
I was invested until the end
Dying with you was never scary
I now degrade, picking scraps off picture frame edgings
Look at us so happy
Lusted objectifying could qualify as the new I do
Well, we didn't make it to 80 not even 32
Congratulations to your selfish needs buddy
I hope you finally find you
Here take this ring, it doesn't fit me

I work for the machine
that bashes bastardized beauty
into the face of the masses

The status quo
of oppressing the Goddess
to some golden ratio
of ***** perfection

"We set the standards, baby"

An arrogance of man,
A battle born in blood
objectifying some sacred symbol,
The cosmic ****
we all crawled out of
as star dust

The holy hole
to heaven on Earth
Gaia taken advantage of
Rejecting the gift of consciousness

We'll de-evolve
like past-life regressions
like we're so self-entitled to 
come back around
Among the cosmos
cradled in the crescent 

Deny yourself the mystique of the feminine
The clashing of the anima and animus
The syzergy of 
the sun 
the moon 
and us
Call on your angels
And submit to the psychosis

My brothers,
These are our 
sisters and mothers
They don't want to castrate
The ******* symbol

Destroy the alpha male
And the omega oppression
The beginning and the end of
**** shaming 

I worked for the 
misogyny machinery of Moloch
My heart no longer beats here
It just bleeds for *her.