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?

i am the one who makes up my owm axi,
rather than be man, in talk of repast,
and fake, and metaphor, and the need for
sleuth... ordeals and godly stature, but only with
orff's carmina burana, we are to dine?!
oh jew, oh arab... why whiff that stink so far
north? familial affairs? concerns? psychiatrists?!
how about an ode to dates
to break the month of ramadam?!
no, you tell me, at, what, point,
am, i, to, understand, you,
before, i, stop, selling, you,
apples, at, the greengrocers?
you gonna fake it and turn all turk
on me? i kinda hope you did,
the time i mentioned henry viii's wives
in a rhyme: charles the first goit the chop,
charles the second managed a harem
but primarily a poet,
charlie ****** the third?
    probably a plush stuffed bunny...
so i tell this homeless person my rhyme...
****! she runs off screaming...
next time i talk to homeless people
i'm brining a monopoly fake of a house
to surround and let the hounds loose on them...
but it's kinda nice... living in a society
that still believes in monarchy...
  i get to talk silly rhymes, just about names,
wives of henry buffon and...
that brothel disease: syphilis and sisyphus!
and that rhyme about 'enry... the 'andy man...
the one that could put up a shelf...
  yeah, that rhyming Olaf...
could get a homeless woman... running...
to fear rhyme...
    just when Otto was in power in germany,
and there was no vogue concerning baptising
babies with that failed name...
you know women, premonitions about
the zodiac and ****... magic...
          crying about the stone cold heart
of men in labs...
   yep, that story, it's boring,
it's history, tried and tested, proofs in pi...
and take to making up
names.
then again, the turks are prettily civil,
they can allow housewives,
and those housewife soaps.. i.e.
operas... i.e. melodrama that doesn't happen
in real life... the turks can stomach that...
ask an arab to provide the same when women
age... he starts a vanity project akin to
a pyramid that is the dubai glass-glacier...
   i know, and many other people
know where the Everest mountain belongs...
should that glass monstrosity belong where it's
currently placed? i'm looking at it and going all
Loci to say the most perfect joke...
   hyper-*****?
     ask the people that built it, the Bangladeshi...
why ask a ******* ****?
     they're bothered by Hindu...
i will add: -stan -stan, never mind Stanley
and why pole is never bothersome
you valentine crisp day-care centre worth of emotion...
  i don't get bothered whether you smack your
head against a pole, polejump, and polish
a wooden table... ****... get along with it...
english says don't when it says do not...
**** is acronym, ever heard of those?
     -        do i look like a queen Sheeba prediction
of copper skinned waiting for vitamin D
like i might wait for a suntan?!
yeah, i probably do...
but can you grow mushrooms on the tip of everest
from a horse's ****, giving there's so little atmosphere?
can fungi grow in zero oxygen environments?
  next, i'll say: i feel like growing one on my toe...
and be called an athlete...
     hail Olympus! ooh... hail 'eno... z...
    harp and snore... the anti clues given to both
orchestras...
apparently life was so very different back then,
thankfully my nostalgia only goes as far back
as the 1990s (nineteen nine tee offs)...
  before zeitgeist piracy and when your bought music.
i just find it funny how people get offended
by someone's spelling accuracy,
it's like people want people to become dyslexic...
no one seems offended when a triangle isn't
drawn...  ******! draw a triangle!
  a bit like: write something that doesn't require
spell-check!
              i always believed in people and literacy,
evidently people these days don't believe in either...
and yes, the Japanese really did write better cartoons
than the Mc Disney brigade...
they acutally invoked *** in their cartoons...
you know, once you learn english
you learn alice, the "wonderland" and the inherent
joke that the english language can't rub off,
namely paedohpilia...
           *** aware once able to take ***-invoking selfies
and posting them online?
  huh?
          you've been giving the status of a global
sprechen, and it's the internet, so apparently it's not real,
apparently the matrix metaphor can last for
30 more years...
of course the internet isn't real,
what with internet banking, hacking, politics,
the death of 20th century concept of window shopping...
the internet isn't real... what with
online dating... brothel services...
   THE INTERNET IS IN ITS INFANCY,
DO YOU EXPECT PEOPLE TO TELL YOU
ANYTHING APART FROM TRYING TO CALM YOU?!
   i too wished i wasn't the lab rat... evidently
the lab came before i realised i was a rat in it...
          they tell you it isn't real,
they tell you all that *******...
and sure, i buy it...
       it's just one thing,
they tell you the internet isn't real
when they accepted that the phonebook was real...
and yet they do their banking, on, the internet...
  what is and what isn't real... kinda happened...
and is already pointless to talk about.

even wording an intellectual debate
focusing on the word: warrior,
is, to me, something of a ****-in-your-underwear
and then swing it around like a missile
and hope that the other monkey is dead...

what do i find in terms of persistent Darwinism?
media akin to Groundhog day replication,
a distrust of media and politics
doesn't go anywhere akin to El Dorado,
it goes to areas of grey and thistles, and weeds,
and trying to defend a political system
that monopolises on the media? e.g. Iraq.

what's the modern trait of the **** sapiens?
he's not intimidated by the advertisement
industry to spend, he saves his buck...
modern **** sapiens feels no regret at not
having the chance to procreate with neanderthal
women who shout rather than moan,
modern **** sapiens isn't wooed by the ooh's and
the ah's of a modern public audience,
modern **** sapiens man isn't ready to turn
women into butchers in Afghanistan,
or what Sappho called: butch, butch, butchy, butch-butch,
      target practice for the *****:
   now your chance to shoot a machinegun.

the **** sapiens doesn't get the Coliseum,
in whatever shape or form as the modern solution
to what would otherwise be: watching paint dry,
    there's no football Sunday over brunch to
holler and cheer and get things done.

the **** sapiens man will not mate with a neanderthal
woman of these times... he has no need to lose
his integrity to mate with these over-sexualised creatures...
modern **** sapiens lives in a time when
science has lost its mojo,
and became arrogant like a chef cooking up
Sicilian pasta in Chuckle Street...
   modern **** sapiens man does not grace procreating
with the mannequins of neanderthal women...
oversexualised and almost Somali in caricature,
which is hardly 5 brats running around for the stately
                 feeding...

modern **** sapiens isn't interested in how offensive you
sound, or how uninteresting you actually are,
the 26 digits on your tongue will never quill a
woodpecker readied for carpentry...
you have physicists for that and that ancient gauge
of sclera iris and pupil: which kinda looks
like clouds, green, brown, blue, grey,
              pupil and to whatever necessary telescope
for the constellations / twinkle in the eye...

     the modern **** sapiens doesn't want to procreate
with modern neanderthal women because
he thinks his feces will smell of mustard...
          he's ashamed about the way sport has
replaced national identity,
              and that watching ***** do the exodus from
a ******* and assimilate into a genesis of an ****
has become magnified into 22 wankers kicking
a ball between two fishnet stocking pair of legs...
              neanderthal women get it,
**** sapiens man doesn't... he's wondering why
there haven't been many drunk intellectuals...
                to state this case.

**** sapiens man is wondering why this isn't even
an insult... by a version of a continuum
best addressed when worded, rather than
    chess-chanced on a board of fixations and
cheap-labour and psychiatrically guised excuses
that are in concerto: lethargy etiam propus.

   **** sapiens is wondering why history froze,
and this be the new ice age...
and why only one day gets a mention,
he's wondering why there's no media sabbath...
         i.e.: when no news happens.

**** sapiens is bewildered by this fresh zeitgeist
of having a need to speak...
  **** sapiens is wondering: why Ned the Destroyer?
**** sapiens is asking: what about the think?
       **** sapiens says of neanderthals:
i guess they really need to talk
because they cannot accept the monotheistic concept
of thought, and stress the democratic: blah blah brechen
to protest, stitch placards and walk a lot and do
cathedral bells a justice of repeating chants: kneel
to pray! tramps aren't trump! etc.

**** sapiens says: they once imagined telepathic
with telekinetic and then they said no to Marxism...
now there don't seem to be that many individuals around
apart from those in suicidal succor.

all in all, **** sapiens simply says:
i will not fornicate with these neanderthal women!
i don't care what my genetic prenup would look like,
    it might look ugly, it might look pretty...
            if we're going down this route...
there's me: exit,
                and then these women:
            lamenting what queen Sheeba said to
king Solomon:
                          the copper skinned will rule the world.

well, here's me and my automated reliance on
extinction...
                           i'm taking a bow...
i'm bowing out...
                                i find only one sensual solace in
this world...
                    music...
                           ­         i'm bowing out of the rest
that comes like a Mongolian revival of a horde...
          and even if there was a love for a woman worth
defending... i already declassified it as
neanderthal... so much for Darwinism when uncoupled
from theology and coupled to history;
evidently my mind is a bit blank when i try to go beyond
the written records... nice gallery by the way...
sure, the shrunken coccyx gave it away...
and i wish i was... doing acrobatics on trees, still;

**** sapiens said of neanderthals:
if only you had an immune system built to
                                        not succumb to advertisement!

but **** sapiens man said: poach the ivory,
but the elephant will play you a trumpet underwater,
      and you'll ask: why?
              because if the elephant farted you'd
get a methane jacuzzi, and not a quasi-jazz concert...
that wasn't even meant to be funny.

Sitting around the patchy tree stumps at Sagar’s Cafeteria,
Campus was not solitaria*.
Listening to songs saved on our tiny phones, decade ago,
We devoured the sound of silence and the fields of athenrye
Together.

We lit mary jane and made merry singing along to ***** Gun
in broad daylight without the purview of uni cam puns.
Who cared if it was just a five-minute break from Hemangadutta
Or Sheeba’s hungry call for relief,
we made it seem wakeable in the dewy morns.

Sagar’s had the tastiest samosa, chicken puff
and Tiger biscuits so cheap we could fudge it in the lassi whuff.
Days and months went by hovering around Sagar than classes.
We never saved pennies, we spent bills on choora
from our pocket monies for bura.

gingers in the hay, likewise
gingers in the scoop of
what's to be worth the last,
remaining quote of queen sheeba...
copper skinned peoples she said,
copper skinned to be the remnant of
all other;
i'll see you in siberia,
                 with the mongols.*

just the per se
  lemma;
bed looks comfy,
    best i sit
my *** on it,
prior to some other
philander
of affection,
  or the camouflage, stripes,
guessing at: harvest ready
wheat?!
     i'm pretty sure
i can merge into mahogany
furniture;
and take the down-syndrome
orangutan with me,
while i'm at it.

the more objective truths humanity finds,
well... the more uncomfortable
it becomes...
                    the supression of subjectivity
is but one of the many objective truths
that are not favoured in a society -
  beginning with the greek philosophers
and ending with the greek philosophers
who stunned poetic endeavours
for fear of crafting: too many weak hearts...
that may be so...
   but was there a subjective weakness
in the wehrmacht? in the kamikaze?
in the red army?
             i find western society is really confused
about subjectivity:
if person (a) says: no one cares what you
feel!
   surely person (b) can reply: shut up!
no one cares what you think!
if you really want soft hearts - argue
the scpetical objective argument -
  sure, sure... forget about the passions...
you know: depression once had a romantic
name (michel de montaigne for one,
clearly shows an elevation of intelligence
with the ailment) - as once did
subjectivity: the passions...
           objectivity is a logical sorrow of
taking the heart, and inserting the brain
of a ******* mouse in its place...
   overly sensitive to stimulii, esp. words...
pointless anti-breeding epidemic of not ideas
alone, but actual people who could conjure them!
melancholy was once cited as the elevated status
of intelligence, esp. in the realm
of a: sense of humour...
                         now? just another grid-lock
in the stigmata ensemble...
              i can't pity these people turning into
the self-crucifying ones...
      not unless they can tell me a decent joke,
or sharpen their minds, akin
to athletes... for when the body gives
to lethargy, the mind is not necessary for
this lethargic succumbed-to predicament...
                                      no, ex-cuses!
objectivity, or the dogmatic-adherence
           to it leaves men's hearts as nothing more
than oysters... mollusks...
              snail who 100 years later finally
wake up and announce their grand
"eureka" of: huh?!
                      the **** just happened?
too late! go, shove your face in a can of
      maggots, and then pretend to go fishing!
can't be that bad, if western europe really
loves to adhere to a self-fulfilling
self-sacrificing prophecy, i'll just turn my
concerns to the east,
   and think up an anti-wrong-thing idea,
namely? group-think!
                      and this whole m.g.t.o.w. *******?
forget it, unless you lack the teutonic
rigour of a monk...
          party time's over...
                                all my potency
for children will be that of insaminating
the only respectable womb these days:
     memory...
                            in memoriam,
                      rather than in vivo, or in vitro:
that's how **** ex machina operates
when there is this constant deus ex machina
pointlessness of debate, akin to shopping
            for a coochi coochi gucci bag.... ugh.
they can have them all they want...
         and when the time comes,
i know where switzerland is...
         and that... i can at least pray for
my last wish to be that of keeping a human dignity...
after all... it's not called dignitas
   for no random reason...
    because, suddenly, this whole objective "allure"
of passing on the genes...
           of keeping it white, while talking it black...
has "suddenly" lost its appeal...
        not that it ever had an appeal to begin
with...
                  my uncle?
   i.e. my mother's brother?
                        20 years older than me...
and he's already on that path...
     would i be stupid enough to "compete"?
                       you know? however many
hamburgers the americans push me,
   however many las vegas dreams they sell -
the west is the best, or rather was the best,
when jim morrison was alive -
last time i checked visiting him in paris:
seemed a bit up-tight, a bit of a ******...
      what once was, cannot be revised,
rekindled, revived...
                          america is currently running
on a day dream:
    hey! you wanted cheap toothpicks!
as the prophecy of queen sheeba stated:
   the earth will be flooded with cinnamon /
copper skinned people -
   and no, not the essex girls who tan themselves
on sun-bed into near-flurescent orange;
as any person who can't be bothered
to gamble on a "future" - as in a poker game:
i put my share in, i'm out, i fold...
  since it stopped being a game of chess
a long long time ago... i fold,
                and tilt my king-piece on its side -
and whoever tells me that there's
still "hope" has become so subjectively muted,
so subjectively numb,
    that calling me throwing a stone
against another stone an unfolding of the "abstract"
concept of relationships: tell you what:
i've come to appreciate cats that rarely
meow...
                       esp. if what they ever get
                    to meow: is, a, load, of, *******.

the more objective truths humanity finds,
well... the more uncomfortable
it becomes...
                    the supression of subjectivity
is but one of the many objective truths
that are not favoured in a society -
  beginning with the greek philosophers
and ending with the greek philosophers
who stunned poetic endeavours
for fear of crafting: too many weak hearts...
that may be so...
   but was there a subjective weakness
in the wehrmacht? in the kamikaze?
in the red army?
             i find western society is really confused
about subjectivity:
if person (a) says: no one cares what you
feel!
   surely person (b) can reply: shut up!
no one cares what you think!
if you really want soft hearts - argue
the scpetical objective argument -
  sure, sure... forget about the passions...
you know: depression once had a romantic
name (michel de montaigne for one,
clearly shows an elevation of intelligence
with the ailment) - as once did
subjectivity: the passions...
           objectivity is a logical sorrow of
taking the heart, and inserting the brain
of a ******* mouse in its place...
   overly sensitive to stimulii, esp. words...
pointless anti-breeding epidemic of not ideas
alone, but actual people who could conjure them!
melancholy was once cited as the elevated status
of intelligence, esp. in the realm
of a: sense of humour...
                         now? just another grid-lock
in the stigmata ensemble...
              i can't pity these people turning into
the self-crucifying ones...
      not unless they can tell me a decent joke,
or sharpen their minds, akin
to athletes... for when the body gives
to lethargy, the mind is not necessary for
this lethargic succumbed-to predicament...
                                      no, ex-cuses!
objectivity, or the dogmatic-adherence
           to it leaves men's hearts as nothing more
than oysters... mollusks...
              snail who 100 years later finally
wake up and announce their grand
"eureka" of: huh?!
                      the **** just happened?
too late! go, shove your face in a can of
      maggots, and then pretend to go fishing!
can't be that bad, if western europe really
loves to adhere to a self-fulfilling
self-sacrificing prophecy, i'll just turn my
concerns to the east,
   and think up an anti-wrong-thing idea,
namely? group-think!
                      and this whole m.g.t.o.w. *******?
forget it, unless you lack the teutonic
rigour of a monk...
          party time's over...
                                all my potency
for children will be that of insaminating
the only respectable womb these days:
     memory...
                            in memoriam,
                      rather than in vivo, or in vitro:
that's how **** ex machina operates
when there is this constant deus ex machina
pointlessness of debate, akin to shopping
            for a coochi coochi gucci bag.... ugh.
they can have them all they want...
         and when the time comes,
i know where switzerland is...
         and that... i can at least pray for
my last wish to be that of keeping a human dignity...
after all... it's not called dignitas
   for no random reason...
    because, suddenly, this whole objective "allure"
of passing on the genes...
           of keeping it white, while talking it black...
has "suddenly" lost its appeal...
        not that it ever had an appeal to begin
with...
                  my uncle?
   i.e. my mother's brother?
                        20 years older than me...
and he's already on that path...
     would i be stupid enough to "compete"?
                       you know? however many
hamburgers the americans push me,
   however many las vegas dreams they sell -
the west is the best, or rather was the best,
when jim morrison was alive -
last time i checked visiting him in paris:
seemed a bit up-tight, a bit of a ******...
      what once was, cannot be revised,
rekindled, revived...
                          america is currently running
on a day dream:
    hey! you wanted cheap toothpicks!
as the prophecy of queen sheeba stated:
   the earth will be flooded with cinnamon /
copper skinned people -
   and no, not the essex girls who tan themselves
on sun-bed into near-flurescent orange;
as any person who can't be bothered
to gamble on a "future" - as in a poker game:
i put my share in, i'm out, i fold...
  since it stopped being a game of chess
a long long time ago... i fold,
                and tilt my king-piece on its side -
and whoever tells me that there's
still "hope" has become so subjectively muted,
so subjectively numb,
    that calling me throwing a stone
against another stone an unfolding of the "abstract"
concept of relationships: tell you what:

i've had the bad luck of dating
rich girls...
                    квaс...

        i said it as i saw it...
outside the st. petersburg opera house...
about to see
                la triavata...
    later, hearing her complain,
about her looks,
and how two russian girls
were making fun of her,
how, how she managed to court me,
and her big russian knose...
and she telling me:
oh, their hand-bags as precursored
judgements, ready, to be made...
no matter how high,
or how low,
        so many, petty judgements!

back to: квaс

        i said it as i saw it:
            K'BAC (tss)....
how do you say it?
            KVAS...
        lithuanian drink,
non-alcoholic fermentation process...
you know, in between
the train ride from st. petersburg
through to moscow,
listening to bob dylan...
i never saw, i never saw not one
mcdonalnds...
just these pancake outlets...
that served orange caviar...
in pancakes....
and the drinks were all about
serving this bread fermentation
"soft-drink"...
from lithuania...
    
            if she let me,
i would have shown her something
akin to Poland...
Iłża... the flinstones...
         krzemionki opatowskie,
   a neolithic and early bronze age
settlement...
  if she let me...
i really don't need
the anglosphere canvas
of going as far back
as what darwinism dictates...

i can go as far back as
the big bang...
the backup...
and tell you...
when, earth, was inhospitable....
wouldn't mars own
a chance to entertain life?
and the great deserts, i.e. sahara,
be great mountain ranges?!
you know...
when the sun was hotter,
than it is at present?
when dino came across dino?
no?
        sorry... you believe your
****, i'll believe my own ****...
standing outside of "all" time
and space... yes,
when the sun was warmer,
and the earth was a massive volcano...
there was life on mars,
as the gobi, the sahara was no
more a desert than the current
"spectacle" of the himalayas being
a mountain range!

who can say i am wrong?
  the same people who conjured up
the meteor narrative?!
they buck bet the best treating people
like me as schizoid...
    
i should have never dated rich girls...
   they're nothing but trouble...
esp. if they were rich,
russian girls...
                         i should have ventured
to the north of england,
akin to newcastle,
               and ****** myself silly.
now that i am, "wiser"...
             **** me...
the best thing i ever accomplished
was stealing kisses from prostitutes...
you know what it feels like,
being told, by a *******,
that you're a good man?
                    
         well... ramming a man via
a k.o. blind, climbing a mountain,
doing an F1 circuit, racing...
                   stealing a kiss from
a *******?
                             nothing to brag about...
but at least, something, to remember,
of equal worth.

         did i already mention
that dating a rich girl is a bad idea?!
who was i?! a son of a working class roofer!
high and forever persistent
ambitions to make a living,
via writing...
      
             well... good luck to me...
good luck to anyone.

i hate women i love women like so
only yesterday i was at Tottenham Hotspur
and we were entertaining
a Swedish team... Elves... Berg... Elfsborg:
Swedish sounds like the softest
blah blah babble of German
i can almost see the trinity of German
English - half baking French -
and all the Scandinavian tongues...
i was working with a nervy atypical bouncer
sort of Anglo-Saxon who was mesmerized
by the beauty of the Swedes:
i looked... eh... just averages:
the women, i did, concern myself: to acknowledge
didn't have all the traits of black girl
envy with duck lips and fake ivory teeth...
but mind you: it's a current phenomenon
for girls to don fake eye-lashes like
weird peacocks and instead of straightetning
their afros with vaseline for the perfect
cow lick now wearing wigs of straight black
hair from India...
on the train back i saw this black girl
petite... angry expression on her face
thick bloom *****(s) and i thought:
well... when god gets it right with a black
girl... all other races can hide:
a Solomon and Queen of Sheeba...
when god gets it right with a black girl all other
girls can hide...
but then i looked at my hand and i saw a ring
on it...
oh... right: i'm sorta happy right now...
i couldn't possibly want anything else...
so when this Swedish girl giving directions etc
was there: she didn't look Swedish at all...
but i looked at her from tip to toe
and she was playing with her fair
and she had that glassy eyed way of looking
with desperation that caged animal sort of look
and i knew she wouldn't be baking me cookies
or making my dough sour
so this atypical Anglo-Saxon bouncer
was all nervy and jitters
because apparently this was the first time
a Swedish team got to play on English soil
and he was like: are we sure they haven't been here
before? after all the Vikings:
well... i didn't say **** because he was
so engrossed within the confines of himself
apparently a history buff...
loved horses and elephants... o.k. o.k.
so you ridden one before?
yeah... when he was 6... ever get that beast
up to speed with a Ferrari: i.e. to a gallop?
mute...
            elephants, horses and peacocks... huh?!
history buff?
you know that the Swedes ventured east
via Ukraine toward Byzantium...
i didn't want to correct him:
you know how sensitive those meat-heads
can be and become...
Swedes were the Vikings that venture east...
we are talking about Swedes...
the envy of **** Germany: not the Norwegians
who founded Iceland and were first
to sail to the Americas...
Danes... you're thinking of the Danes
who came over to England just after the Anglo-Saxon
takeover from the Romans?
history... are we talking about the same thing?
but there she was...
i circled her playing silent movie roles
and no captions emerged...
from hair to toe...
she played with her hair
and she positioned her feet in the most inviting way
one foot in one foot out
and that glassy eyed look of exasperation
and it was all nervy whiff of spaghetti being boiled...
i woke up with a headache as if it might
have been a hangover
with one slipper outside the window
soaked on the roof...
yes... maybe... a year ago: but girl...
you've come too late...
that's what i hate about women...
when you're finally of interest to the opposite
***... it usually happens when...
you're already taken...
women are so predatory... so happenstance ugh...
opportunistic not by way a male
just gambles and risks
but opportunistic from the perspective of:
safety... they see a ring on a finger and then
they start honing in: disruptive...
fair game if this sort of flirtation happened
in the worst scenario possible like
in the darkness and sweat of a bar: but that's so 20th
century... but at work:
the atypical psy clues of when a woman
is attracted to you: and now i just put
that **** into the meat-grinder pop psy- of
the subconscious... yeah: might as well comb
my hair or get scalped... woosh! right over
the top of me...
maybe the "love of my life"... but not really:
just another cameo... in expanding the Steppenwolf
universe of: what ifs...
i sort of realised why they put me with the away
supporters... there was about 30min of a mad rush
to get 3000 supporters into the grounds
i still couldn't get over the historical buff's
discrepancy of not differentiating
the Swede from the Dane from the Norwegian...
although the Germanic folk
(are the French? no... surely... more Celtic imbued
so just another variation of the historical
mongrel)...
but it was a welcome reminder...
                      impervious to the flirt although
i did welcome the opportunity
until a older Asian coworker stepped in and asked
all the wrong questions like:
what is your favorite food
when i asked: so you staying here for long?
where are you staying?
you sightseeing: upon which she replied:
oh i've been here before so i'm only here
for some food and shopping...
                 but again... women... annoying...
was i racially profiled by the club to be at the away end
so that the Swedes had someone to look at that
mostly resembled them and they were so cattle prone
to agree to everything?
reminiscence of youth...
when young and being separated from mother
and father i associated myself with Batman...
orphan etc
if only for four years but from the ages of 4 to 8
you get the jist of development of the psyche...
safe to say i left Batman behind and moved toward
Spawn... and however racial profiling goes:
the mass media might want to make
Spiderman black... or Supergirl ginger...
i have no problem with identifying with Spawn...
i don't need to tarnish him and bleach him...
i'm sort of like the non-racist MLK...
because MLK was a non-racist...
unlike the current KFC bleach colonels with their
anti-racism iron maidens of cognitive dissonance.