I'm having trouble getting out of bed lately.
It seems id rather dream because that's the only place i don't hate me.

Cynicism is my confucianism bury my coffin shallow so i can still fell the rain.

I can't stand the lack of pain.

He Lead the Chinese people against the Imperialist Japanese
Chiang symbolized China's resistance against Japan
In 1938 he received the title of Tsung -tsai (party leader)

For 8 years he kept 2/3 of the Chinese people
And 3/4 of the  Chinese land
Free of the Japanese
He was fighting a defensive war
Against a more powerful Japanese army

He believed in one China
In his life
He hoped to restore the unity of China

Committed to Confucianism
A united strong prosperous stable society
Is achieved by freeing up the industrious economy

A mixed economy
With a strong central government
With noble firm leaders
Keeping control

His vision of China is reflected in modern china
Much more than Mao's
He hoped for a modern Confucian China


His vision is closer to China than Taiwan

The interview asked," Would the Chinese people be better off
If Chiang had won and ruled instead of Mao?"

Yes, the thirty million people would not have died
And China would not have suffered the setbacks
In their education and economy

(I)
So concretey, these jungles
but not like this
Glass shards shoot up 45 stories
only to have tarp covered markets
populated by shouters

Oh, Powerpuff Girls on backpacks
one green
one purple
one pink
And 10 dollar Gucci bags
these people have it made
Four blocks from the world stock exchange
these people have it made

(II)
You ain't had won ton noodle soup
Or chicken feet
Or shrimp stuffed eggplant
Or food from Chinese franchise Pizza Huts
which happens to be an escargot joint
What does that say about US?
hopefully not much

(III)
Red taxis between every other car
Double decker busses
more common than city pigeons
Still the city finds time for trees
whiskery ents rising out of
ancient volcanic soil

You would think it's a city full of sin
Seven million souls, what-
that's higher than I can count
It's not
Everyone here is cute and wrinkly
Confucian
except for the young
These people have it made

(IV)
In this city, you're expected to stay
home with mom and dad
As they get cute and wrinkly
you're to return the love
Confucian
these people have it made
11 seated dinners
these people have it made

(V)*
Here in this ancient city
the gravestones dot the hills
coat the hills
And then the cremation jars bury the hills
(yes, they're dead)
cough*

Here's how a Chinese name is structured:
[family name] [given name]
Confucianism
and then these names fade too
These people have it made
but it's alright.

I don't know
No one knows

RELIGION

A greatly diverse word
The complexity from each Gods can't be explained

Christianity or Islamic?
Hinduism or Buddhism?
Confucianism or Taoism?

I don't know
No one knows
Which of these is the one?
Which God is the Man?

Each have their own beliefs
Each came from different myths
How the hell would humanity know?
How would a religion shatter every other's ego?

Just what if?
What if Christianity tells the truth?
Would it mean that homosexuality is just a bluff?
Is it just a wrong "choice" and can be cured by having faith in God is enough?

BUT what if?
What if Atheism tells the truth?
What if atheists just have so much strength?
Strength in facing the truth that after we die it will all end?

Until now, evidences are still vague
Even the most religious one had thought this inside their head
What if the world we have now is just an illusion?
No one knows for sure how to cure this confusion

RELIGION

I don't know
No one knows

As we usher in a new Dark Age giddy at the prospect of renewed ignorance where faith in absurdity lights the way and opinion is fact if it's shouted loud and long and our plagues descend not from evolving microorganisms but vengeful spirits aloft and doctors become the spiteful magicians next door I find myself curious who first will burn for the sake of reality?

Confucius say...you can't fix stupid, *******, everyone burn.

Dear Mr......  I live in Melbourne.  Read your book--honest, bold, revelatory, trail-blazing.  I read much of Tolle and some of Chopra.  I like the way you have described your observations--they are sharp and insightful.  I am a Zen person and must have read Lao Tze's Tao -te-Ching 50? times ( my forthcoming book is on Tao leadership).   Every person finds their own way in their journey towards self-discovery and self-awareness. The path is a very hard one--it calls for so much patience, humility and determination. You mention happiness as a skill--so true.  What is so fascinating about Zen and Taoism is that it's an achievable art.  Happiness-gurus overstate their case,  they exaggerate,  they prescribe what they regard as THE ANSWER--- that's not true...and you have rightly written about their loss of cool, that they also exhibit impatience and dislike in stressful situations, that they self-aggrandise.  There is no perfect person on earth--even saints have their faults. Teachers must have humility, compassion, selflessness,  tolerance and goodwill----self-effacement I regard as the highest virtue being immensely affected by Taoism and Confucianism.  Yes, I live in the moment but my focus and attentiveness could never be the same or unencumbered.  But I do succeed in some measure.  He who wishes to meditate must come in purity of heart---he can't meditate if his heart and feelings are not right.  He needs to self-abandon, lose himself, feel as a child in the vast expanse of possible 'being', to be one with a Higher Reality or Consciousness....the letting-go is the route...My small book  IN THE FOOTSTEPS OF ZEN--THE PATH TO A CALMER AND HAPPIER LIFE released in Melb in 2018 has sold quite well.  For an unknown hobby-writer, I am more than gratified and have thanked my publisher for their faith in me.  It has accepted my Tao leadership book for release later this year---many lessons are in the same vein as found in Zen--after all, Taoism is the mother of Zen.  Someone wrote that Zen is the greatest discovery since the Enlightenment.  It has permeated every sphere of thinking and living.  I read Thomas Merton's SEEDS OF CONTEMPLATION some 50 years ago and continue to read him though I am not a Catholic (I don't have a religion being a humanist--agnostic?).  Merton was so enamoured of Zen that he edited a work of Zhuangzi, the most eloquent follower of Lao-tze.  The Vatican was very concerned as it was afraid he might abandon his original faith. But he didn't---his love of his faith even grew!  Now we have Zen-Christians, a phenomenon that testifies to the universality of faiths and beliefs.  I am sorry to have written so much.  Once again, thank you for your wonderful book.  Please drop me a line--I can learn from you.  Being a composer, musician and singer,  I find it easier to find my 'peak moments' when I am into it.   With my deep esteem and sincerest wishes.

A little bit of Confucianism and Buddhism
The worthwhile life of Taoism .

Go with the flow maker Lao,
Communism and Chairman Mao
Stood no chance against the holy prism,
Opened up a deep wide chasm

The way, The path
Just do the math.
All day and all day
Just look at nature and it'll be okay.

Reason and knowledge,
Take the pledge,
Just look at nature and stay away college.

Things you can't comprehend,
Sins to amend and commend,
Just look at nature and you'll find a friend.

Master Lao, the maker of Tao
Finding ones place within this town,
Be one with nature and forget the crown.

Remember the magic of this mystical place,
Right in your head and right in your face.
Yin and Yang,
Walking with a cane.

The End is near,
We got all but haste.
Receive with open arms and a fragrant taste,
A little bit of aloe that's nature's paste.,

All will heal and All will feel
Beneath the tree,
We will see
Beneath the tree,
Just you and me.

Dear Tom


Western existentialism is generally gloomy unlike Chinese philosophy ---both Taoism and Confucianism never speak of despair, angst or the predicament of living----such philosophy is immensely practical and can be followed by anyone--both sages speak of the Tao (The Way/the Path)---walk in the Tao and you will live in righteousness, beneficence and compassion.

  The difference between  the Tao of Taoism and that of Confucianism lies in this:  the Tao of the former relates to the spiritual and metaphysical while that of the latter relates to the human being in society and benevolent governing.  

A meeting of Nobel Prize winners in Paris in 1988 made this observation:

If mankind is to survive, it must go back 25 centuries ago to tap the wisdom of Confucius.

I am not a student of philosophy and this is all I can say

humbly

Peter

all of a sudden
kung fu you and karate chops
I like more the martial arts of thought
like  confucianism
I throw words around
and that isn't always innocent
yet I hear people
being brought down by words and take
a second look at
my words and
I am not an innocent
god , either

You know they have these,
           those groups for
people who are,
          were,
        are going through addictions.

Well I was going to one such place...
I'm not addicted not like these people.
My failings are
              light compared to those others.

I was hooked on the deity addiction,
              I was raised to believe in certain
                          noncorporal
unsubstantiated constructed fear factors.

I was for many a immature years fearful of
           what I was doing till I was 7 years old.

Questions were my maturity, I'd read that
            these man made constructs, well the
top of today were all
                      with an area of minimal distance..

                                               It was like,
the central point for god creationism,
                   who had the most followers,

who had the snakes tongue, the intellect
              to make other listen to there lies..

But so it happened, there were the old gods
   fading into obscurity..
they were real for a time,
           but the thing about time, everything dies.

But the words huddled the masses,
      you see there was a religion,
religions already around that stood the
   testament of time.

These new ones approaching gaining ground,
they were either an off shoot of
                      there disagreements,
of the word of there god not others
                                                   as they weren't real...


No there's was real, but the gods before were wrong??
                                            ok...…..

But moving on and we have the oldest religions still
around. Some have the masses where some have but a
only a few followers not as many as way back when.
Here's a quick lesson in gods and spirituality,
counting down we have:

1. Hinduism (Circa 7,000 BCE)
2. Judaism (Circa 2,000 BCE)
3.Zoroastrianism (Circa 1,500 BCE)
4. Shinto (Circa 700 BCE)
5.Buddhism (Circa 600 BCE)
Jainism (Circa 600 BCE)
Confucianism (Circa 600 BCE)
Taoism (Circa 500 BCE)

So you see that there are some old that still remain..


But the thing that people forget is that in the old times
wars were fought on the premise of there gods words
were the truth and the others were distortions not the
right word of god, gods.. look down, I know...

1.Second War of Kappel
2. Lebanese Civil War
3.The Crusades
4. Second Sudanese Civil war
5. First Sudanese Civil War
6. German Peasants’ War
7. Nigerian Civil War
8. French Wars Of Religion
9. Thirty Years’ War
10. Eighty Years’ War

I know what your thinking what the fudge has this
got to do with now, quite a lot it would seem.
We have new religions popping up, some are just
plain ***... and people follow these.

But the good thing is time is awaking the masses to
the ridicule of what these old books stood for.

Hate, Love ******, ****, intimidation to believe or
                                 pay a levy or pay with your life.

But the world is awake, more than ever.
         So I sit here in this room, listening to the
stories of what made them rescind the notion
of belief in a deity, that controlled them now
                                          they have cut the strings.  

I just hope one day that we all can look behind us
and wonder why we were so immature to think
that  these things helped us find our keys,
                         but let a child die of starvation..

if you don't see the contradiction your still blind I see...

I hope this is the voice of writers in general, however humble.

Every writer's intention is to share his thoughts.  He doesn't compel the reader to buy or read his book. It's natural of him to write/say this:
'here I am writing what I am thinking and about my experience....'.

But life is never short of philistines.  A few might even say:
' Don't advertise before me!'

That the person should articulate the above shows how low- down he/she is---it smacks of ill-will, ignorance, contempt and spite, immaturity and in the worst case--schadenfreude!

Confucius  the sage (600 BC) wrote about the chun-tze (the gentleman, the perfect person) who is kind, tolerant, encourages learning, practises humility, kindness, generosity, shows respect for all people, and delights in the success of others and never denigrates others as the xiao-ren (the 'small' or inferior person) does.

Confucianism has captured the imagination of the West which has openly declared that the founder was among the world's greatest philosophers.

Was the sage advertising himself? If he were so,  would he have survived for over 2,500 years?

Anyone who dares say that the writer is an advertiser must be among the most deplorable.  He or she should be pitied!

I. written yesterday

i can't remember the last time i had so much fun with music, i put it down to recently seeing them live... and **** me, on both days they played the London Stadium and having such an arsenal of songs they would play two different set-lists... honest to god, i've never had so much fun with music than i'm currently experiencing with the Red Hot Chilli Peppers... perhaps it's not that i saw them live recently... i also attribute seeing them 20 years ago back in 2002 at the now non-existent London Arena in the Docklands... i should have ditched the guitar and picked up a drum-kit... i just can't stop drumming on my leg... grooving with my shoulders and imitating a pigeon walking: which is not exactly head-banging...

there's only one thing greater than cycling...
well: i don't mind not going at the speeds
of a motorcycle -
there's this book: i found it... laborious...
in all honesty...
      i don't understand the fame behind it...
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance...
like i side: a very laborious book...
i'd probably rewrite it as
Tao and the Art of Bicycle Usage...

in between talking to a newly acquired
"friend" in the Arab world who opened up
a conversation with me the word FAKE...
i replied: HAREM and
                      ختان (khitan) - circumcision...
like in Hindu: the H is a surd...
               i guess that's how the Tetragrammaton
structures itself around those tongues...

i prayed for a day like today...
            it was truly amazing... i rarely get into
arguments with motorists...
you could ask any van driver in central London...
i love van drivers:
apparently a car has to pass a cyclist
in a range of 1.5 metres...
van drivers? they're like: **** it...
i'm not driving a tank... he'll be alright...
and they're not shy either...
they don't stalk you on the rear faking
eyesight: pristine spatial-awareness...

fair enough... this one time i was cycling
from the supermarket in the night months
of late winter and this guy slows down
and asks me the question:
- where are you lights?
- what lights?
- exactly...

                   i should have hollered back: thanks dad...
lights or no light: you see me then?
oh look! pedestrians! no high-viz. jackets!
yeah: if it was a country-road: that would
be a fair point... unless of course the street
lights started blinking...

but today was spectacular:
there's only one thing better than cycling:
swimming on a hot day and...
getting angry at motorist when cycling...
******* tourists... Sunday type drivers...
careful! careful!

getting numb-nut words thrown at you:
trying to impress his girlfriend...
blah blah idiot blah blah that...
ooh?! ******... come here! so i caught up
with him and started spewing a list
of profanities... i'm such an adrenaline *****:
and becoming infuriated is like a caffeine-alcohol
overload for me...
i could swear that my iris and sclera disappear
and there's only blackness in my eyes...
- ******! stop the car and let's have a fight!
lucky for me this happened as we passed
a bus stop...
by then he rolled his window up...
or rather: she did... having spotted me gearing
up to have an argument...

what? a bicycle is less than a motorbike?
i like the idea of generating my own momentum...

but the second incident was more
impressive...
i'm working a shift at Wembley tomorrow...
at first i was like: women playing football?
but i'll just be watching them... not the football...
tattoos... long hair... ooh! there's an odd Pixie
short haired type i'm so into...
then i was like: eh...                 not that bad...
plus the crowd will be easier to control...

now i'm like: the lionesses have to win...
i don't support the English football team...
i support the male German team:
don't ask me why...
          i was thinking about it once...
the three colours of the France kit...
                       blue shirt white shorts
and red socks...
the German kit would look so awesome if
it imitated the flag...
   black shirt red shorts and yellow socks...
instead?
                      white shirt black shorts white socks...
and why?
    the Teutonic flag... Germany should change
it's flag to something akin to the crosses of
Scandinavia or the flag of St. George,
i.e. the inversion of the flag of Cornwall...
a black cross on a white canvas...
since... the colours of the football kit represent that...
the Teutonic Cross...

Spanish teams and of course because of Rapahel
Nadal have his word of encouragement
to keep them going...
bamos (i.e. vamos)
       there's a word in my zunge that can be
used to similar effect...
sometimes you just need a phonetic outlet
to match-up the exertion of the body
with the absence of any necessary mind...

DAWAJ - da-VAĪ...
                 looks super-slick in Cyrillic:
ДABAЙ!

       at university: oh god... i wish it happened
in a supermarket...
i went to this one gimmick party:
we were expected to attend wearing pajamas...
i started talking to this one German guy
and he told me he adored the word
KURVA (*****) he said:
there's this relief-release from uttering
that word...
i guess we saw it written in katakana...
it just didn't make sense at the time...
until only recently expressing :
                                                      ДABAЙ
in exasperations while peddling!

huh?! push-bike?!
since when is a bicycle a push-bike?
what am i pushing?
sure... hoo-lie-noga: you can push
a scooter...
what are we even talking about?
chess or brick walls?!
                         one of those conversations
at work... what push bike?
what am i pushing?
i'm peddling...
- a peddle-bicycle sounds double weird...
- thanks, but "push-bicycle" is altogether
weird too:
five blind men and an elephant sort
of weird... that "infamous" story of rock-hard
anti-Braille re-reading....

- this second incident was spectacular...
the lionesses better win...
i was reduced to roaring: RA! as she didn't catch
my indicating... as we pulled up to the roundabout
and started screaming blasphemies only
men hear from women...
    after she finished her little rant...
i caught up to her and ROARED... because?
i didn't want to scream any obscenities myself:
not at a girl... so i roared that mighty syllable R'AH!
perhaps the syllable once shared the name
of an Egyptian god: but not in these parts...

two provebs:
   when walking among the crows one is best
to croak like them
   (jesli wchodzisz miedzy wrony -
   musisz krakac tak jak one) -
which implies that if you walk among the German
tribes (which includes, by extension
the Anglo-Saxons) you have to speak their language
like they speak their language...
ergo? what am i? i'm an Anglo-Slav when it
comes to any ethnicity debate...
after all: Polacks have as much place in British
culture as all people of the former Empire...
now that empire is nothing more than
the Commonwealth & games...
      after all: ****** spitfire pilots fought in the Battle
of Britain: squadrons no. 302 & 303...
there's even a placard in the catacombs of St. Paul's
cathedral dedicated to their memory...
   which is why when come post-colonial former
British empire gust of mango and banana and
sugar cane wind comes flocking to these shores
i find my place too...
                                  
i found it so amusing... i roared and?
                   she roared back! ha ha! a lion to a lioness...
and i thought: this be an OMEN...
if i can turn this into an omen of good faith i'll
have fun tomorrow...
    if i roar at an English girl when she's seriously
having anger management issues
it might just be that i might capture a little splinter
of a collective imagination and turn that into
a victory for the female football team tomorrow
against the Fräuleins...
                    as that story goes: about the butterfly
effect... a butterfly in one place of the world
can create a tornado in another place of the world...
of course i'm not deluded that this has any
actual effect: hypothetically-chaotic and rightly so...
but if i can gear up some random girl driving
in a car with a roar and she roars back...
    maybe that might translate into a victory of sorts...
here's crossing my fingers that i'll be right
come tomorrow...

II. written today

ha! apparently i was right... the lionesses won
the Euros... my god... this is going to rub off so bad on
the male ego of the male team...
i try to avoid the argument: the team is not diverse enough...
only white girls... most blonde:
i never thought there were so many blondes
in England until i started paying attention
to female football...
                  
   i'm still not going to be convinced by club-level football:
but women's international football is... d'ah BOMB...
woke up at 8am... left the house at 9am
having eating nothing but half of a day old croissant...
next time i ate? after the match... 9:30pm...
i almost felt like a Muslim during Ramadam....

coming on the train: lucky me... caught the fast one
from Southend - the train that only stops at
Romford and Stratford and whizzes past all the stations
in between... there and back:
back at 22:22pm... lucky ******...
anyway... while i was going to work i realised...
i have this nugget of **** still in me...
but i'm nervous... i felt frozen into the chair...
i tried breathing really quickly... closing my eyes...
but i already knew i was constipated...
this nugget of kakashka (little ****,
an endearing term my former Russian girlfriend
used to use for me)
            would stay with me for the rest of the day...
nerves... about that OMEN from the previous day...
i woke up today wanting to be so right!
not in a way a betting man gambles on being right...
a different sort of being right...
on a hunch and a plethora of feelings...
strapped into the chair... head pulsating...
heart attack? stroke? three times as a headache...
a head-numbing pulsation...
        memories from being a teenager...
i had these three or four incidents...
i would snap my teeth... releasing this numbing-electricity
that pulsated from my jaw down my body
into my stomach... squeezed the stomach:
and i began pseudo-epileptic convulsions...
in absolute agony...
   for months i would fall asleep in terror
unable to clench my teeth...
in fear of replicating this pseudo-epileptic attack...
there's nothing more vivid in life
than pain...
                 it begins with an easiness of
an air-head... and then that numb-aching that translates
into a pulverising brain: trying to jump out
of your skull... it's not a panic attack as such....
just a head-heavy top-down...
at Liverpool Station i walked into the toilet
and thought that vomiting would help me...
mind you... i did learn the ancient Roman way
of "bulimia"... at first i used ******* down
the throat after i binged on food...
i was so body-conscious back then...
   after enough practice with ms. index and mr. middle
i built up an automated response of the esophagus
and throat...
                just my luck:
you can't exactly puke up half a croissant...
instead? i was... an anemic seagull trying to feed
my youngling with the delusion that i actually ate enough
for the both of us...
puke puke: yup! yup! nothing... bloodshot eyes
and tears... nothing... the light-headed magnetic bulge
of brain and an embarrassing forehead kept at it...

only when the shift started proper did the feeling ease
and *******...
lucky me... i was placed on level 1: great view of the match...
and among the German fans...
i thought: time to practice some Deutsche...
ar du haben ein gut zeit?!
                 eine gute zeit haben!

Jemmina popped up again... who's Jemmina?
she's like Ovid's Corinna...
although... she's not married and i didn't impregnate
her that she might suffer from having an abortion...
i was walking up to the sign-in area
and this woman i work with told me:
oh... she's working for me now...
you know how she and Melanie had a spat...
i just told her: i don't want to know...
but i liked Jemmina... i kept the part where
she blocked me on a messaging-service for no good reason
i should know about a little ***** secret...
well... if this woman is employing Jemmina...
and i just dropped the words: i really like her...
who knows!

the match itself? absolute brilliance...
1 nil up... and then the German equaliser... i thought:
oh ****... no point having roared to hear
a roar back...
extra-time... first half of extra-time... nothing...
and then BAM! a goal with 10 minutes to go!
keep it up... keep it up...
                               ah... the omen paid off...
the lionesses won...

but the biggest caveat wasn't me roaring and filling
my heart with a want for them to win...
sport's sport and it's only that...
there's still that hurt male-ego hanging over England...
coliseum after coliseum reinvented
and revisited: Rome the meteor
and these grand rising craters in the ground...
even with the crucifixion the joint
conspiracy of the Greeks and Hebrews could
never make this script as extinct as that
of the Cuneiform of the Babylonians...
it's already meshed up with the digital footprints
of ghost-robots and robot-men...

              but like i already mentioned:
the best caveat came when i finally decided to
feed the beast... walked into a Subway...
i thought: i've had enough of this deep-fried chicken...
burgers... i need something wholesome...
a sandwich will do just fine...
came to the order... a fine Italian loaf... turkey *******...
on the conveyor belt came to the guy who
was dishing out the sauces and vegetables...
people prior to me were so picky with the vegetables...
four Spanish girls chose as little as tomatoes
and iceberg lettuce... a few others chose even less...
this has always been my experience
in a Subway... i don't understand the ad gimmick
where people are picky about what vegetables
are put in their sandwiches...
and the guys on the conveyor belt of making sandwitches
are usually Hindus...
so when he asked me, which vegetables?
ALL OF THEM...
a flash of happiness in his eyes... all of them?
yeah... all of them...
low fat mayo and that sticky onion sauce too...
****... no black olives... never mind (i thought)...
mash-up grub in a 6incher...

once you have been fasting for almost 10 hours...
oh man... it's like Socrates said:
some people eat to live...
while others live to eat...
                      i have absolutely no problem
eating alone in public...
i've heard from those closest to me that
i eat with such finger-licking poise...
as i sat down two children sat either sat
beside me and enjoyed their own food...
and always: always have a napkin ready...
let's face it... no need for leftover sauce or crumbs...
on or around your lips in your beard
and moustache...

but that was the biggest the joy that came from
today...
all the vegetables i said:
all the vegetables?! he replied... yeah...
all the vegetables...
                what a wholesome little treat...
eating my sandwich with two children
sitting either side of me eating likewise...

like animals akin to like children:
as much as i dream up the companionship
of women...
    i'm more wholesome around animals
and children... i feel a sense of gravity
that's unlike gravity...
they're not my own: but, do they have to be?!
it's enough that i had to deal with
a bunch of Germans wanting to buy me a beer
in order that i might support their team...
got patted on the shoulder
by.... the crowd was mixed... no segregation line...
when i was first "initiated" / naturalized
into the British society i refused to sing
the national anthem...
now? i murmur it... i'm not confused:
i'm just conflating... i'm sniffing the death
of a queen... eyeing up the next king...
and there are two in waiting... hell! there are three!

the 2nd Elizabethean Age is coming to an end
and i'm gleefully asking for the best of the best
clocks of Zurich...
   no death of a Pope will be so profound...
the closure of the 20th century:
moving toward a newer, braver, world...

perhaps the Chinese reinvented themselves
by abolishing the five? or is it three old Cs?
culture, custom... i don't remember...
here's to me rekindling an interest in the Tao:
i have no interest in Zen...

chasing Penumbras and Chimeras...
don't even mention the umbra and the antumbra:
same heads of the same beast...
     man as incomplete as the schematics he's
presented with...
  of the Freudian dictate: ego, superego, id...
i'm building up an aftertaste for a a taste
of grapefruit...

          i was listening to two American girls
talking on the Metropolitan line... for once i started
to adore the accent... i undid my shirt and sweated
like a boar in a hunt... i like it when girls play
with their hair...
                i like it when girls play with their hair...
i was about to jump in with where they should
look next to live... if Whitechapel is ****** enough?
look to Wanstead!
                      
but i was so right... i roared: she replied with a roar back...
today can be salvaged as a success...
handshakes and all: job well done...

now i'm sitting in a leather chair farting
into an empty couldron of the intestines being emptied...
one can truly lament
the overthrow of old Chinese customs
by the Maoists... esp. concerning the Taoist rebellion
against Confucianism...
                     why wouldn't i sample some thinking
from the Japanese: to therefore counter
the onslaught of the CCP information warring?

but now... dearest sleep...
                      dearest of all... a sleep that might envelop
a decade's worth of rest...
and a memory of a: very beautiful sandwich...
oh... but that ROAR was heard...
from a little roundabout in Romford all the way
to Wembley...
      but i did have cuckoldry on my mind: throughout...
this is not going to work: in the long-run...
fair enough... it was great seeing
Alex Jones up close and personal...
but... n'ah...
there's something "wok awong wong"...

   it's unlike female tennis players... unlike female
Olympians...
                          appreciating sport that was
originally designated for men... is a bit like...
watching and nodding to... transvestites...
i'm not saying it's wrong:
but the appeal will never be there...
                        on an international level: for sure...
but on a club level? hardly...

what's football without rowdy male teenagers
trying to prove that they own *****?!
sort of boring... and... ugh...
women imitating men... they look so ugly...
so... butch... i don't think i've ever seen so many lesbians
in one evening... mind you: at least two lesbian
converts...
           of course you're going to come across
lesbian would-be converts...
it's usually the butch lesbians that are eyeing you
up... the more plump the ones with crew-cut hair
eyeing you you up...
oh no... not the submissive of the pair...
the butch-lesbians...
                                    they're playing with
the drama of being the pretend-man looking
for a man while dating a woman...

i like them... i like butch pixie-pizza-date-girls
of that sort... fine skin...
  i like short hair too...
                                i can't compliment on their skin
enough... i couldn't possibly stroke ivory enough
to reach that sort of complexion...
i wouldn't dare to lick it: let alone touch it:
i'd ******* have to frame it!

hey presto! one fetish emerges after one just finishes!
my favorite mousy was also there today...
to hell with me and my weakness for
ginger haired girls and freckles!
mousy! she figured out a way to change her hair
to become more appealing...
mousy! mousy! i won't give you her name!
mousy is mousy! she's a ginger hybrid!
i like her strawberry ginger-ness...
which is not a strawberry-blonde...
it's... tickling something akin to "something"
could be teasing more auburn clashes of shade...
never mind... the freckles are a bonus...

mind you: it's still too hot to venture back into
the brothel... i need late August to keep my tongue kept
to return to revisiting the brothel...
i need the weather to cool down...
not after that *******...
it was never going to work akin to how it "works"
in a pornographic flick...
two girls: two condoms...
the best you can do is ask for a pair of ****
from one and a hand-job from the other...
no one is catching any germs today...

my beard is a violin and a cello...
while i stroke it... trying to summon the winds
for the brass-stroke of genius...
i try to also remember...
miracles began with both Jesus walking
on water as they began with the madness
of Xerxes lashing the Aegean sea with whips
to calm it down...
for one? i find the latter more probable
than the prior; the poetics of abandoned genius:
and within its confines...
the cringe Christianity of what change would
later come.

In response to a post on the existential thinking of Albert Camus:

It so happens, in the book I'm writing, that I'm comparing Confucianism with Western existentialism;  the former talks of life in the affirmative-- cultivate yourself, understand yourself and others, practise Ren ( humanity), be virtuous and ethical, serve your family, society and the nation, create social harmony and stability, know your role, duties and responsibilities,  don't speculate on the metaphysical and the after-life (we know so little of life, why discuss death?),  follow the Tao (the Way), live in harmony with your fellow-beings and the Universe, follow the Middle Path, live simply, be fair in all dealings with others,  be the Superior Person who talks of value , not the inferior person who seeks only profit, know your faults and don't fail to correct them, acquire all the arts,  call things by their proper names,  write and speak with clarity,  learn from past sages, be humble, don't do to others what you wish not to be done to you, hold everyone as your brother or sister, pursue only ethical pleasures, control your passions,  act always in decorum,  follow traditions and etiquette, death is not to be feared.    (In contrast with Western existentialism,  there is no sense of meaninglessness, despair, angst, futility or monotony in Confucianism).   Copyright 2025, Peter Lim

I gave up my intellectual mind at least 40 years ago as I recognised that it would  not guarantee or contribute to my happiness, success or fulfilment-- this mode of thinking would tend to impede my spontaneity, joie de vivre, sense of adventure, wonder and curiosity which I deem to be my raison d'être for living.

I've found from my experience that, in many cases, intellectuals have fixed and rigid mindsets and, as such, become inflexible and even intolerant and arrogant.  Being insular and inward-looking,  they find it hard to accept the views of others, even their colleagues' or peers'.
Their thinking tends to be along this line:  I'm an authority on this subject....'.

Such people don't make good company and might not attract others to become their friends.

They can also be awfully boring.  I attended a social dinner many years ago and happened to be sitting next to an academic whose field was chemistry.  He went on non-stop for a hour telling me and those around that he had written over 50 research papers and had received various awards.  His  wife seemed ravished by his outpouring.

The hallmark of a mature person ( Confucius in 600 BCE used the terms ' superior person' and 'the gentlemen' ) lies in their humility, grace, broadmindedness, tolerance, kindness, generosity, respect for others , sense of humour, willingness to share and co-operate, and, last but not least,  their altruism as manifested in their charity and contribution to society and the nation. Confucianism regarded people as part of society and that they were measured by the good they contributed.

Tolstoy in his later years suffered from a deep spiritual crisis. In his Confessions, he wrote that intellectualism stifled his life. He looked at the common people and was amazed that they were able to bear sorrow with such courage and equanimity which he would be unable to.  He said that as soon as he cast away his intellectual life, he was cured of his existential angst.  What a revelation!

I conclude:  happiness and fulfilment is found in understanding ourselves and our place and station in life, in living in simplicity and in harmony with our fellow-men, in kindness, humility and humaneness.  All this has nothing to do with being 'intellectual'.

West: personal success

    Confucianism: collective success