i always wondered what
je ne sais pas might sound like in german...
ah, **** it, let's put
this prosthetic limb together,
you never know, a siamese twin
might just pop out to steal the show...
ich (je ne sais.... ah.. ha ha ha!
i was thinking of je ne sais qua...
ok ok... je ne sais quoi, quo-oh-e...
e. e. cummings, come ere!
fiddle this violin to a fine tuning
that a deaf man might 'ear)...
and when language does indeed
as diabolical as this, you really should
stop using Poles as antibiotics to
German then Islamic fascism...
or kidding yourself that it's really
just a pardonable dream you're having...
so the prosthetic limb is coming...
no point schmoozing me with
anything else... oh please please:
just dance the one legged tango a while
longer, i'm working on it... honest...
look here... je, ich
ne, nein, nein-stimme... no steam:
bog **** choo choo!
meaner: neinschtimme -
kinder dicht... why would i say kid-tight?
well... ballerinas begin their careers
at an early age... maybe that's why...
otherwise? dunno...
let's feed this alcoholic cold-sweat -
finding the tutti-frutti hyper-delusion,
trying to say much more than the sound
of knocking on a door can ever provide...
that's one way to go about it, for sure...
and every part of me wants to be a serious
novelist, and be sober, and chop wood,
but then every other part of me
wants the poetry, and the drinking,
and the scarcity of the adventure...
to feel, having only slaughtered one pig,
that i was able to feed a billion ching chongs
in Beijing...
china... ching chong...
a focus on the prefix ch, and the suffix cha cha cha?
no? different joke, on a different continent...
i swear there was this guy from Bethlehem
who also made the same conclusion...
can't remember his name...
you know, like: two fish three loafs of bread,
you can satiate a coliseum...
ah! delirium! that's what alcoholics experience
sometimes... i love delirium...
it just shows you, that if you're really
serious, you can experience many more facets of
alcoholism...
hidden gems... and if you're really
hot-headed, have enough crassness about
to write about it...
delirium... when other drugs have the after-effects
of paranoia, alcohol prescribes you delirium...
in polish slang also called a delirka...
but i'm not drinking purple denaturat /
ethynol substitute to chanel no. cinq...
or should i say: çank? yep, that ship sank
once it gave a smoochie to an ice-berg...
hail Titanic! ave Titanus!
but i really was trying to find
je ne sais quoi (qua... ******* French,
excessive spelling and a gob that later
says much more throng... and that nasal
cavity needs fixing, seriously -
but they write so beautifully,
and later slobber it with their local...
or should i say: locál! or perhaps: locállé?!
depends how you make do
with a syllable dissection) -
so how would it go? the je ne sais quoi in
Swabian?
ich tun nicht was kennt...
well... there are worse things than
mutilating a language...
you could do worse, like mutilate a body...
like in that film...
with colonel sisi... the last king of scotland...
ah, what's his name? that guy
reminding me to never travel to uganda?
yeah, had a wife, she cheated on him,
so he cut off her legs and arms, and sewed them
back onto her torso so she really ended up
with a confused pair of cranium hemispheres...
and i'm the mad one...
just because i drink and have a vocabulary
equivalent of diarrhoea...
but, so it goes...
i'll never say the correct way of saying
je ne sais quoi in Swabian... because je ne sais quoi
is a complete package... like faux pas is
a complete package, like carpe diem is a complete
package... like coup d'état is a complete
package... like déjà vu is a complete package...
there's absolutely no way to unravel it
or furthermore: translate it...
a German once complimented my language
on the cushion-like effect of the word
kurva... *****... he loved the trilled -r-
and the waterfall of -va / wa wa... va to english speakers;
and so he did, relieve himself of stress
saying the word... and with such malice as
to no hurt anyone... and what's happening in
english? social-cool, prescriptive dyslexia...
one step away from really, i mean
really being o.k. with watching **** and all
forms of perversity, and not o.k. with seeing
the correct spelling of the word ****...
yes... mm... so ******* agonising seeing
a correct spelling...
i better gouge my eyes
out having seen that....
or that case of ultra-proximity...
kręt vs. skręt...
kręt (a pathological liar, on a building site in
England usually called a Romanian) -
skręt? a rollie... a cigarette, you know the type,
you buy the tobacco, you buy the papers,
you buy the filter... and you actually roll
a cigarette... a variation of the word skew,
i'm sure... kręt does actually mean a meddler...
a swinddler... and if you having been exposed
to the reality of a construction site in england...
you should see the ******* that's written
in the toilets...
i really shouldn't have gone to university,
i wasted my degree in chemistry to merely drink...
**** good wine though, home made juice...
hyper! hyper! hyper-ventilating on the silence
that's gathering around me...
and if you ever spotted a lightning bolt
and never heard a thunder... you're bound
to be as itchy as me -
and by the way: the karma term for a German
in Poland is: schwab - or szwab...
of shvab... it's getting dizzy... pfoo...
bilinguals can't be proud polymaths...
i'm seeing alternative spelling in different
linguistic geo-political zones.
