.there's redemption at the end of this diatribe, or so i think there is, well... whatever hector dejean could have ever done... of all the places in europe... i kinda wish i visited berlin... e.g. paris, mid 00s? the best place in the world... stockholm mid 00s? ******* closed it off, cold as a butcher's knife cutting into meat to the bone... and i know the saying: he only saw a bit of the world, only because of her... who, who's her? solo... how i pulled it off, i still don't know, how i became introverted because of the writing? that i know, i decided upon a career (insert snigger, and no " ") in drinking.
discovering a channel like
contrapoints and
shaun (salad fingers)
in a single day?
sorry... no...
the day a ****** starts to maul
its way into my head...
one ****** i can take:
two trannies?
no... sorry...
i'm arachnophobic already...
what's another phobia
to do with it?
shaun: much appreciated
pedantry...
to too came with
my own set of toys
what's isn't chemistry
is also not čeating...
all the major nuances
of the english language...
but this overt-obsession
of the other with regards
to being either gratified,
or not...
you should ask me...
'why is it that you don't
experience erectile dysfunction
when going to a brothel?'
why a sudden concern,
interest,
as to what men
do, or don't do?
pet a cat,
put on a washing machine,
hang the washing
and shy away from the day
with three ciders...
stare at a blank screen
with a blank face
and a morbid itch of anticipating
some sort of spew
from, yours truly?
suddenly everyone is
"worried" about the leftovers?
albeit this "abortion"
can talk back...
or... "think" back...
because every time
i'd ******* i'd count it
as an act of genocide...
"loneliness":
because i found an outlet that
bypasses...
the editorial process
and is... unihibited?
****, there are two of me
when there are three ciders
in me...
you know...
i've never come across potent
left ideology,
until now...
****... maybe i'm also a leftist,
or: what does all of this even
mean?
personally...
it's not saying i'm
not unconvinced,
or i'm hallucinating
or anything...
maybe these so-called
incels would not get
such bad press,
if... there wasn't a problem
with ******* priests?
and... the name
suburban cenobite was
introduced?
when one mental "disorder"
is... Norman...
and all others
are...
Tabloid Taboo...
seriously, Matt, get your *******
head around this...
'i'm trying, i'm trying...
but this **** is not lily *******
savage...
translate
counterpoints
from behind
a camera lens...
to stage...
who's laughing?
the queer that was,
when it first started to tease
the public's taboo
orientation...
the current public's taboo
orientation of certain
negations of ease?
different ball-game...
maybe that's why i sometimes
frequented brothels...
best shrinks in the whole
******* world...
but of course,
"*** slaves"...
oh that one time,
when i forgot to trim
my ***** hair and thought:
that would be impolite...
so we just smooched
for an hour...
do you even know that
they charge an excess on
the hour if you want to perform
oral on them?
i just think of eating
raw oysters...
but ***...
do i really have to think
about it so much,
on such political terms?
this is it... no ******* bucket
and ***** for me...
the continual cycle of:
not-keeping-your-own-affairs-intact...
are days always like this?
by this i mean...
penetrating - my ego just turned
into a ******
and became ****** by
a ******-tongue / voxdo...
or maybe i'm personifying
an atypical reaction from the actual
echelon of addressee...
but this isn't a blaire white
hmm...
buffalo bill -esque...
who said anything about...
****** bones?
hands don't, lie...
em, yeah...
***** envy...
with a hand that can
hold a basketball?
do all you want...
but once the hands come into play...
and then... the video of
counter point nears its end...
and i'm...
like...
o.k. this could
work... consolidation...
a truce...
you be she
whatever you like,
i'll be a suburban cenobite...
unofficial...
but at least i will not
be some paedohpile priest...
i needed this...
there's still one cider left,
i hang the washing...
which included my mother's
underwear
and i feel... insanely normie...
having just realised:
i usually normal with this
sort of content...
why now?
oh... right...
reading the sunday times'
magazines...
and imploding from
all the disconnect from
mainstream media...
yet i will persist...
what is an irrational fear
when the thing itself, in question,
is also irrational?
my arachnophobia
is irrational...
is the spider even
given a status of either
rationality, or irrationality?
i'm definitely being
irrational...
but the spider is neither
rational, or irrational...
it's a spider...
it doesn't have the luxury
to be irrational,
other than it is a rational
extension of per se...
sure, god, evolution,
whatever...
for so long i craved to write
something so alienating
that it makes me feel
uncomfortable...
ah... the subject matter...
that was it...
the death spiral,
the dodo project...
first time... Isabella...
psychology exchange student
two years my scenior...
Grenoble...
no...
she really was a dream...
then there was that time
with my ex-girlfriend
from high school...
a whole afternoon
and her *******...
later something else,
and then later something else...
months apart...
then the ukrainian *******...
then the russian bombshell...
the puerto rican
plum in amsterdam...
a black girl
with an ***
just about right
for my lack of ***** envy
or whatever it's called
when a black girl's ***
requires the desired tool
(i hear they're releasing
a new album, can't wait)...
then a few bulgarian prostitutes...
then a thai bisexual
(yeah, to my shock...
she was wearing a sports bra
and there was no thai
surprise in the end,
but the suspense was
killing me
just before we did it
in the garden)...
details, details:
i'm not going to suddenly
write out a hard-on...
****... i was starting to feed
into the paranoia of identifying
myself as an incel...
cool cool, "are traps gay"...
we're back in lily savage territory...
ha ha, always the subject matter...
i hate that...
freaking out about something
you're not...
it just had to come
at the right time,
downing this third cider...
and yeah: it's sunny...
i can't wait for the night
and the foxes...
it's mating season,
so they'll be at it
more prominently...
ah... the trans-movement...
the benzene ring...
and Plato's concept
of punishment
of men being reincarnated
as women...
or.... in this instance...
women being incarnate
in male bodies...
it's like: hell decided
to blah-blah its way into life...
fun times...
sure, and a bunch slurrs
and slurps of milkshake
from the great *** of kamadhenu...
i'm no better,
look at me,
drinking,
brothels...
among
the mad, the ******
and...
safe to say:
liberated from
the pogrom of establishing
myself as a father figure.