.how did the political "debate" ever become surmount to include musicians? from what i've seen? of the KEXP radio session...  Ashish Vyas had the most fun from the session... i always admired the bass players more than those ****-offs running out of rhythm guitar sessions... bass, a tier above the drums... masturbator-grand-master-soloist... i guess this is one of those nights where i drink more than i write... elephant's ******* choking me to come... oh well... not even a Decalogue will save me... the political art is no art to begin with, curtains... all i'm seeing if curtains... and households filled with retired personel... and curtains... curtains but not blinds... it's abhorrent to have to listen to music with hushed bass guitar... notably metallica... apart from devil's dance and... where's the bass guitar? the rhythm guitar section overpowers the music... fine fine, have your solo *******, but don't silence the bass guitar with the rhythm guitar, i need to hear the drums translated via the bass guitar into the rhythm guitar... solo guitar and vocals all you want... it's like... the lessons to be learned from jazz, when all the fire prime instruments are allowed to solo... went, "missing"... i need the bass, man... frantic bass & drum genre type of music will not do lollipops for me... what was the alternative? dub-step? well... vex'd & distance... burial... who were the others? i don't remember... don't make me cite skrillex: white privelege man! yeah... at least with rabbit teeth missing, doing that well known party trick! i don't like bands that have a knack at an over-emphasis of the rhythm guitar, who neglect the bass guitar... it's so counter the jazz-inheritance... tool: grand bass, red hot chilli peppers, silverchair... i need that smoothing out layer of sound that manifests itself in a bass... a layer of sound just below the rhythm guitar and a tier above the base (not bass) of the african drum borrow... bāß... base (not bass)... yes, it's not supposed to look pretty: a phonetic antithesis... as most "things" in english...

             mind you... did i mention how heidegger
has a foot in the door?
       oh... i didn't? did i?
     the reflexive and the reflective quadratic...
the reflex of conscience "vs."
the reflectiveness of consciousness...
       heidegger:
                  language - only if speech has acquired
the highest univocity of the word does it become
strong for the hidden play of its essential
   multivocity (as withdrawn from all "logic"),
of which poets and thinkers alone are capable,
in their own respective modes and their own
directions of sovereignty.

  of the few lyrics i've entertained these passing
"days"?
             the black keys: lonely boy -
              i got a love that keeps me waiting...
borrowing from Kafka i guess:
      in that case, i’ll miss the thing by waiting for it.
   no?
   guess there's no "oops" where these words
come from...
              
    with the "passive" circumstance of the faculty
of memory...
                two tiers of memory:
the reflexive memory type,
the scholastic rubric type...
  1 x 4 = 4, a + b + a +c + u + s = instrument =
counting... etc.,
            that's the reflexive memory type...
a scholastic rubric...
      dyktando...
but memory also occupies
the reflective parameters...
          which involve personality...
a sort of memory dissociated from schooling,
and more, associated with:
disinhibiting any chances of succumbing
to dementia's grinding machine
of the mortal circus...

  the reflexive memory storage bank is
the buffer...
the "placebo": nay... the safety mechanism...
but... too much education,
too much pointless education,
and the erosion of the reflective memory
storage bank: this is not a buffer,
this is not a something equipped with
a "safety mechanism"...
        given that a self is perpetuated
within the confines of
a constant conflict with the "self"...
   a and italics / the and "ambiguity commas"...

well, there's always a place to start...
i find of like philosophy as being
a rigour associated with a satisfactory
form of vocab.,
       namely?
i can use the associated words bound
to a sentence with confidance...
unlike a ****** fiction writer,
sometimes dabbling into loan words
from a thesaurus, to, invoke:
an intelligence superiority...
  don't worry...
  when people lend themselves
to use a thesaurus, having exhausted
their adjective knowledge... it shows...

come on... a background in chemistry nouns?
3,5-methylhexane... you think?
that's the remains of a saxon past in english...
in chemistry...
germans spell like dr. faustus to begin with,
they, compound...
        the remains of a germanic past in
the current state of english shrapnel still
lives... in chemistry...
        hydrocarbons...
                  usually met with a hypen:
hydro-carbons...
       siebentausendzweihundertvierundfünfzig
(7,254)...
well, very german: what a waste of not employing
punctuation marks (', -) when it came
to the caterpillar 189, 819:
methionylthreonylthreonylglutaminylarginyl...isoleucine,

Me­thionylthreonylthreonylglutaminylarginyltyrosylglutamylserylleucy­lphenylalanylalanylglutaminylleucyllysylglutamylarginyllysylgluta­mylglycylalanylphenylalanylvalylprolylphenylalanylvalylthreonylle­ucylglycylaspartylprolylglycylisoleucylglutamylglutaminylserylleu­cyllysylisoleucylaspartylthreonylleucylisoleucylglutamylalanylgly­cylalanylaspartylalanylleucylglutamylleucylglycylisoleucylprolylp­henylalanylserylaspartylprolylleucylalanylaspartylglycylprolylthr­eonylisoleucylglutaminylasparaginylalanylthreonylleucyl arginylalanylphenylalanylalanylalanylglycylvalylthreonylprolylala­nylglutaminylcysteinylphenylalanylglutamylmethionylleucylalanylle­ucylisoleucylarginylglutaminyllysylhistidylprolylthreonylisoleucy­lprolylisoleucylglycylleucylleucylmethionyltyrosylalanylasparagin­ylleucylvalylphenylalanylasparaginyllysylglycylisoleucylaspartylg­lutamylphenylalanyltyrosylalanylglutaminylcysteinylglutamyllysylv­alylglycylvalylaspartylserylvalylleucylvalylalanylaspartylvalylpr­olylvalylglutaminylglutamylserylalanylprolylphenylalanylarg inylglutaminylalanylalanylleucylarginylhistidylasparaginylvalylal­anylprolylisoleucylphenylalanylisoleuc…

or just read the end of james joyce's ulysses
or jean-paul sarte's iron in the soul...
you do have to insert shrapenl punctuation
into this word...

but these are the last remains of the english language
being associated with a germanic origin:
compounding words...
             esp. in chemistry...
                

as any drunk would state,
to suffice...

    what was it that the luftwaffe
prescribed for the night raids
on London?

   and what did isis fighters
be prescribed?

    amphetamines?
n'oh!
   (minus the extended omega:
oooooo enough time
for a katy perry song,
an afternoon shower,
a slap in the face,
and then a few punches,
hey, jerking off became
boring)...

   so the british,
and a few polacks doing their
r.a.f. bit beat the germans
because?
   oh... **** no...
they were ingesting
an impediment factor,
durg, ****,
drunk, numb-skulled...

    we're talking counter
measure to the "enchanced"
mensch...
    high on amphetamines...
insomniac, but still going...
i guess the loci of
the amphetamine adventure
had to relocate to the anti-ego
focus of the phallus
in the variation of viagara...

****...
i care more for my giggles
and a friar tuck physiognomy...
seriously...
   it's more important than mere
gymnastics of
a freudian "metaphor"...
  ha ha...
   i guess conversation is
also allowed...
   try keeping that up...
given that most men are
******* into a solipsism...

     date nights... m'ah ah ha ha ha...
i figured that i don't
need french intellectuals to
redefine absurdity,
or german philosophers
to "redefine" existentialism,
i just needed to leech
off an nativistic english
"public"...

                      what the ruling
class spews:
   i reinterpret...
                  simple, 1 + 1 = 2...
crux, numbers,
   bounce back...
echo...
     compliment to the language...
as i stood in the shower thinking...
well isn't modern gaming
slightly "ingenious"...
money piggy...

or... reversed...
    provided the unlimited time
of experience...
no constraints,
just a game within a game,
like sims 3: making a sim
play a video game...
wormhole paradox
      and a brain shattering moment,
a jolt,

         these modern "free" games?
well... at least if you
do not invest in them,
are... games mostly associated with
time...
time is the game...

   whoever gets ****** into
the money laundering schemes
of these games,
forgot to read the cheat walkthroughs
akin to final fantasy VII,
because of homework,
and... Saturday mornings.

   **** air guitar:
here's to air drumming to posit
a point...

          the allies drunk their pint
of whiskey, slightly debilitated,
without the circumstance of feeding
a feeling of superiority,
the germans over-inflated
their superiority complex with
amphetamines...

         ergo?
    i'm either proper drunk, or just plain dumb,
or... it's related to listen, repeat,
listen, repeat: katy perry
  (sucker for POP!)....

      never mind...

games used to be fun,
games used to lead to a completion,
tenchu, that was fun,
final fantasy VII...
but this current,
money-sucker of an experience?
well... sure...
now games have reached
an anti checkmate conundrum
which it is...
because, the games are "free"...

           apparently time,
is perceived as a non-commodity...
tell that to someone stuck
in traffic...
      time: the "elder" flimsy
              construct of relativism...

try not giggling
while exchanging whislting to
either the british grenadier march song,
and the french la marseillaise...

   it's like eating pork liver with onions
fry funny...
    or at least a stew of chicken
hearts... tight tender little *******...

but modern gaming is just that...
ingenious counter measure
to the old school variation
of gaming,
    games... without fiction,
games, without script...
    continued perpetuation
of engagement "syndrome"...

     thank god,
i'm pretty sure that if i went beyond
owning a PS1,
i wouldn't have spotted this,
and have a narrative subsequently,
for the worth any sort
of compromise...

ergo? i drink...
   eh... i need to dumb down...
it wouldn't be fair otherwise...
it's not so easy,
to acquire a culture,
a psychology,
a mentality,
   and then...
     to ****... (grimmace, burp,
         snigger) it all away...

**** me, the flute always
gets me...
          i mean...
every time i hear that flute...
my feet at rambling,
itching to tap along...

   well of course it wasn't
the ******* jazzy clarinet,
was it?!
  tell that to the broad
who perfect a *******...
see if she comes back
as smart,
as smart to comply with
the intricacies
of playing, the ******* clarinet.

p.s.
aud lang syne: the only song,
of all time...
shakespeare seems
pale by comparison,
"side-note"...

          broad vs. brode,
******* giggles in the afternoon.

Drip, drip, drip
Goes my blood onto the sparkling white porcelain.
Blood pooling from my arm,
running down to my fingertips.
The velvety red liquid making me feel something for once,
in this cruel heartless world of ours.
The blood loss making me feel light,
giving me release from the pain I constantly live in.
Giving me escape from the real world.
The blood is running down the sink,
leaving a trail of bright red.
I watch it go down,
like my spirits.
I look into the mirror and look at what I see.
A scared, hurt, ugly little girl.
One who knows too much pain and judgement,
at such a young age.
Why is it that society tells us that we are stupid, ugly, fat and worthless?
Making us feel so pathetic,
that we turn to alcohol, drugs and self-harm.
I look at the girl staring back at me and I begin to sob.
I see every imperfection, because that's what society has taught me to see in myself.
I clean up my arm and the sink.
Turning on my computer, I see two things;
Girls trashing one another and calling each other *****,
and people saying not to listen to "The Haters", that it gets better.
Turning off the social media,
I turn my gaze to the window and I begin to think.
Why does it matter what anyone else thinks?
Why do I always feel like this?
Giving myself a headache,
I get up to go get some alive.
I see my hookah pin.
In and out goes the smoke through my lungs.
The smoke forms a pure white cloud around me and I'm enchanced.
It all looks so pure and beautiful,
yet it is so harmful.
Just like your words that you throw around.
And once you let go of them, you can't get them back.
You make people feel pathetic and worthless,
even though we are SO much more than your words.
We are people who have been put through HELL,
yet we are still here and fighting.
You of all people can't and won't bring me down.
Of course, that's what I always say.
And yet, I go to bed.
Knowing that even when I close my eyes,
the cycle of hell I live in will continue to fling me around.
And it will all just repeat,
Tomorrow.

i went through most of them,
   well, at least some of them,
   the ones that would pop up
when the algorhithm wasn't
               a f-f-f'ed     cue: up...
some great bands popped
up, spontaneously like mushrooms,
seemingly out of nowhere...
don't know if this is the usual
diet to some people,
    but some time,
    it was mine... until...
                    i chanced myself finding
an outlier...
the diet?

   - computing forever
    - paul joseph watson
   - styxhexenhammer666
- lionel nation
   - tim pool
   - amy young
   - shaun
   - the iconoclast
   - amy young
   - jacklyn glen
  - dr steve turley
   - stephan mo... mo... moleneux(?)
- sargon of akkad
   - ms pettibone
  - black pigeon speaks
   - joe rogan
- vertigo politix
   - dave ruben
   - jordan peterson
- strange aeons
- red ice tv
   - economic invincibility
- roosh v
  - critical condition
   - gavin mcinnes
   - roaming millenial
   - stephen crowder...

but...
         after a while...
    this was the "in" crowd...
the subject matters converged
and i just,
might as well have stood
in trafalgar sq.
   and listening to the cooing
of pigeons,
   nothing wrong with that,
but when overlap appears,
shared subject matters,
the same subject matters,
you know you're going
to be forced out of the audience
by your own intent...

the subject matters with
seemingly no personal incentive...
what i started to call
vulture journalism,
    changing the main-mainstream
narrative
   into an alternative
competition ranked
                          viewing...

well... that's until today...
today i foundd myself a gob-smacked
viewing time,
       what put me off?
success is fine,
   but the egoism and the bragging
baggage that goes with it,
this persistent need to
    cite viewers, subscribers,
   whatever you want to call it:
lapse in "introspection"...
  
   sure... i'll probably still
watch some of these channels..
it's not like i'm going
to turn on nice news or something...

the first time it happened
that i found videos,
where: the samsung tablet
would light up for a while,
but then be "dooped"
   into switching off the screen,
first dimming the screen light
before switching off...
now... when you listen
to a radio station on such a device...
the device does that...
  but even though the screen
is off, the audio feed is still
intact...
   but not the case...
        with a video + audio content...

so... i guess...
that's the epitome of the edge...
even millanial woes
videos don't have that "problem"...

who's in "question"?
                      surviving life...
i write "poetry",
   unless there's some hannibal
lecter interested in citing
any of my scribbles...
    then why would i venture
into the dark web?

                     if i wanted
to buy some chemically enchanced
marijuana,
   i'd just go to my paranoid
schizophrenic jamaican drug dealer
and listen to him ramble
about the illuminati for a while,
and how he once tried to convince
me that there was face of jesus
in the moon...
   as he showed me a video
he took, outside his house
                                   one night...
he once even asked me to teach
his daughter guitar...
    i couldn't think of a payment,
since i was then moving
away from marijuana
   and working on my liver's worth
of a punching bag.

   great stuff...
        i can more or less
agree to the lower regions
of, what i once thought,
was "edgy", as told by the "edgy" /
now tame youtubers.

it was fun, while it lasted,
oh well.

.poet, or philosopher, it doesn't really matter which is which, or whether the two are indistinguishable, notable in the former scenario, when someone has an eclectic bounty of interest is simply not love-scorned or love-nostalgic, love-idealistic, does it really matter? i was once called a philosopher: a teenage girl said in third person (as if she was a puppet and some-thing was moving her tongue): 'talk to this philosopher'... not in that sarcastic way that philosopher is an misnomer or an abused term of: self-gratifying grandeour, it was quiet genuine, but: imagine my shock... i had an ambition in life, it was to perform a service to thinking: without doing as much as hammering a nail into a plank of wood, that's the ambition of any thinking man: to borderline on telekinesis or telepathy... that was Hegel's modus operandi, his categorical imperative... after all: ego is a metaphysical tool, while thought is its metaphysical canvas... the mere suggestion that a copernican inversion can happen in physics "contra" metaphysics... it's already apparent, any word can behave like a hand touching the sacred object / subject of transfiguration and become something else, even a misnomer can find itself given solace to the user... for now i've forged a belief in the ultimate: away from the absolute in relation to omni in unum - one first has to learn to think, before having to learn to feel... mind you, i don't like the current nietzschean inversion of the cartesian equation: (ego) sum ergo (ego) cogito... esp. among the youtube political commentators, too many examples to give: i'm a classical liberal, i'm a progressive, i'm a liberterian... i don't really like seeing: i am, precede i think... i don't even like the origin-argument of this inversion: i exist for the sole purpose of thinking... after all: i think prior to being, since i can also daydream and not be what my thinking suspects as a possible truth-outcome... that's the nature of the freedom of thought: i don't have to be what i think, i can find thinking to be a pleasure, when the senses do not offer me any pleasure derivative, e.g. eating can sometimes be boring, chewing, chewing, *******... i eat because i need to live: i don't live to eat... i really have under-appreciated Hegel, i should really visit my grandparents for two months and read the phenomenology of the spirit: i'm trying to replicate the saying attributed to him (verbatim), but i doubt that i will, i don't have the patience to sift through all the quotes, but it goes along the lines of: beware oh wordly man, to not be a pawn in a thinking man's game... hence my suggestion of philosophy entering into the realms of telekinesis and telepathy: you get to see things play out and people express the origin story, of your own memetic generation of the original idea... how are poets finally alligned to philosophers? good thing that i studied chemistry at edinburgh university: we return to atoms, words are no longer enough, sure, they are, contrary to the statement...  (why did i under-appreciate Hegel? ah... had my head stuck up heidegger's and kant's *****...

integration? great!
but i'll meet you halfway...
i'll eat your fish & chips,
your englush breakfast,
i won't sing your anthem: god save the queen,
****** anthem, too short,
but i will whistle through:
the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
like i might through la marseillaise...
i'll meet you halfway...
i'm not a former colony member,
commonwealth,
i'm not some ****- paying bribes
to the british powers
to join in on a world cup of cricket...
this is what happens when immigration
turns sour...
they either lesrn the host tongue,
or they don't learn it...
or they can't distinguish the two:
speak polonaise at home,
speak the hosts' sprechen outside of it...

if the ******* aren't suspect:
by not being bilingual...
the arab beatles... jihadi john...
ringo star h'ahmed...
george ali...
paul mecca rashid...
oh i'll settle for integration...
but don't you ******* think i'll give
up my mother tongue
for "c.c.t.v." close-ups back home,
home being my private lodge...
like ******* will...
i'll speak your tongue in public...
but i'm not ******* former commonwealth
****- riddled with a need to play
cricket, "forget" my tongue in order
to compensate for olives
and sun-burnt bananas!

a former colony ****-**** is about
to dictate the rules for fellow
europeans, on the tram-ride from
Birmingham to Nottingham?
seriously?
but of course the englishman
will favor the former colony pet bush-monkey
from sri lanka...
since the brit can't really dictate
to a fellow european his superiority
complex... which he can...
with a petted copper skinned
toy-ting...
who brought 'im a korma curry!
nice one, ol' laddy...
right on the plonker...
i'm not finished!
i'm just getting started!

gehirnablassen:

perfectly respected immigration,
given that so many english girls just love
the attention their **** minders,
sexually abused,
not really making it as nurses
or... ahem... karaoke superstars
worth the while of britain's got talent
or voice of britain,
or...whatever the ****** show was
that gave birth to one direction...

so a.... brain-drain? good immigration?
the best!

i can sit awhile by myself and count...
1. the sparrows,
2. the swallow,
3. the starlings,
4. the crows,
5. the magpies,
6. the pigeons,
7. the woodland pigeons
(fatter, with dog collars),
8. kestrels
(one is enough to begin
the count)...
9. the blackbirds....
10. seagulls... seagulls?! 25 miles from
romford to southend! seagulls?!
this far in-land?! fair enough...
11. a robin...
12. goldfinch...
i just sit and watch these birds
in my garden, i sometimes spot
a darting frog in the garden,
i'm more english than the english...
i actually enjoy owning a garden...
the "english" surrounding me
exemplify a bbq. as a luxury parade...
what's so luxury about marinating
some meat, and then grilling it?!
please! enlightend me!

gehirnablassen...
brain-drain immigration,
the type asiatic tiger-mums brag about
at child olympics...
for the required rubric stature...
******* mothers, basically...

)  notes to preserve completing
what remained: pending...

1. χaron χaos - cha-cha-cha       khaos / chaos...
2. theaetetus - so / ma   letters / syllables:
graphemes: sz phi theta
compound syllables (caron s) - Na (sodium)
3. music choice...
brain damage perturbator ft. noir deco
virga iesse floruit, gradual of eleanor of
britanny...
4. pride / stubborness (not equal to) honour,
tolerating islam is not the same
as respceting islam...
german 19th century fascination
with islam...
θought and φilosophy...
greek in warsaw, giving him directions,
talks: sounds so much like spanish...
5. england a nation of singletons,
idiosyncracy... social pressures in poland
and even in h'america missing in england
to marry...                                         (

1. well, let's begin...
        it has taken me two days to complete
my utterances... i've just spent 40 or so minutes
listening to the last of the youtube
stronghold (dangerfield -
               from hash to ******) -
i can relate on the literature,
i can't relate in taking steps of replica...
i started smoking marijuana
aged 21... i think you should start later...
drinking while being a teenager, fine...
i hanged around with some irish in my teens,
we used to have sleepovers at youth clubs
play pool, buy ***** mags and drink
white lightning: bumb cider...
but given that i was sold chemically
enchanced (negatively, i might add) marijuana
that turned me psychotic...
ah... psychiatric terms, used by the mainstream
like some casual metaphors...
     recently i was at a health scrutiny hour...
yes: my psychosis was made stable in
a schizophrenia: which is a new word to describe
bilingualism... oh the english natives!
what competent people...
  no, it didn't become bipolar: psychotic depression...
lucky me... lucky in that:
           bukowski: isolation is the gift...
the rest are a test of your endurance...
no **** sherlock!

  i just look at all the particular instances
when english (the language) breaks rules...
    heidegger merely pointed out
that there's a difference between chaos
and χαoς: well cheap and cha-cha-cha...
but when it comes to the ferryman?
some would say: χαρoν...
otherwise? do the raj bidding of inserting
a surd H... nibble at the tetragrammaton...
   and call the ferryman κ - αρoν
                                            (h)...
this isn't the only example: cheap, chisel...
        chemistry... it's not chem-ístree...
      it's kem-ístree!

2. poor *******, the english,
   they can't discuss orthoraphy...
hardly, to begin with:
what with i (ι) and j (ȷ) -
you have already cut the diacritical heads
of come the CAPITALS: I & J...
what a simple hydra to vanquish...

2. theaetetus - so / ma   letters / syllables:
graphemes: sz phi theta
compound syllables (caron s) - Na (sodium)

                     i like this one...
   letters, syllables, graphemes,
sodium: Na...
  the key and the door analogy of the keyhole...
feminism: it wants to coagulate...
to group existentialism with
scholastism...
sorry honey... play your footie:
*******!
                    key being inserted:
φought enters θilosoφy....
yes, the graphemes are elevated,
beyond the stature of consonants...
didn't you ask?
oh, you should have asked...
- socrates: can yoy give a rational account
                    of syllables, but not of letters?
- theaetetus: it seems possible.
-socrates: quiet; i think so too. at any rate,
surely you'll have an answer about the first
syllable of 'socrates', if someone asked
'tell me, theaetetus, what is SO'?
- theaetetus: yes, my reply would
be that it is S and O.
- socrates: so there's your account of a syllable,
isn't it?
    - theaetetus: yes.
- socrates: all right then, tell me alao of your account
of S is.

sorry... after this point, for B to be a surd?
bottomless pit... let's ask what is a letter,
what is a syllable... and what is a grapheme...
the greeks bargained on dialectical markers...
which they dind't need, since the latins needed them...
what is a syllable is also: what is a grapheme,
and how to account for "strange" vowels?

the greek thought, they thought,
"thinking" that only the greek language
was correlated to universal thinking...
and that universal thinking was only associated
with greeks speaking... pish-poor choice
if you mind...

         syllables... individual letters...
weren't consonants synonymous to syllables?
esp. with added diacritical markers?
play-tongue-think-tank with the greeks...
sooner or later they fizzle out as
redundant...
         couldn't keep Constantinople...
will not regret or revive the bounties of
reclaiming Istambul...

i once claimed to tolerate islam...
tolerating islam is one thing...
    respecting islam: quiet another...
i can attempt myself at
respecting a cloning device...
which any religion is: a cloning device...
i can tolerate it...
which, doesn't imply i respect it;
i wouldn't eat a meal with a muslim...
and sharing a meal?
is my fullest acknowledgement of
respect, i tolerate islam,
i, tolerate it,
   thank **** i don't respect it.
respect it like some 19th century german
philosopher... hegel or nietzsche....

what is a syllable "compensated" by
a grapheme, esp. with a hidden consonant,
akin to the caron "s"...
      i.e. šeep: look at that...
the first time orthography was introduced
into the englishsprechen...
   hid the H: šeep... sheep...

well we already know where the greek
letter went to: modifying scientific
constants... after all π = 3.14....
    Σ = summation...
            last time i checked...
letter, whether consonant or vowel
orientated,
took up more meaning beyond
translating the optic of encoded
sound into expressed sound...
    they became surds...
          tools to think with,
only secondary sound symbols...
you no longer translated the representation
of the sound,
there was an idea behind the letter...
disguised as a "letter"...
chemistry minded the syllables:
Na: sodium, salt...
   and that was that...
              
  fai(s) çe q'(u)é voudrā(s) -
written, but otherwise a surd...
fwench has the most examples...

3. music choice...
brain damage perturbator ft. noir deco
virga iesse floruit, gradual of eleanor of
britanny...
     mind you, i will gladly whistle about
three songs while walking...
this is the part where i become an arrogant
*******... teaching yourself does
that to a man, there's no pride in being
lectured, ordered to regurgitate...
for all that pomp & circumstance
that makes pride & prejudice shy...
    she should have always been
first choice on the fiver banknote...
jane austen my ***...
            mary shelley was the dog's *******,
through and through...
the three songs i sometimes whistle
while walking, taking a whiskey for a walk
(good thing i don't own a dog)...

a. beethoven's symphony IX
     allegro assai vivace - alla marcia...
b. la marseillaise...
   c. british grenadiers - fife & drum...
shhh...
    (for all the worth of shakespeare's
poetry... robert burn's:
aud lang syne...
        hell... i can't write sing-along poetry...
poetical commentary...
which still beats poetry worthy of
thee theatre...
shakespeare, no shakespeare...
aud lang syne:
   old long gone song, refurbished)...

5. england a nation of singletons,
idiosyncracy... social pressures in poland
and even in h'america missing in england
to marry...

       isn't it obvious? england is a metal
asymlum when you wish to see it as such...
somehow and "suddenly" all the social
pressures disappear when nagging either
a polonaise society or a h'american society...
i'll be critical of applied english,
as a language...
but when it comes to living?
               second to none... when i was younger,
and growing up in poland
the english were know as gaylords...
or the bellybuttons of the world...
now, having grown up among the irish
in the outer east-end of Loondon?
want to talk to a 6ft1 115kg "******" about
his lack of obsession with marital status?
his complete disinterest in dating?
what's a dating app?!
                 the same kind of "******"
obsessed with templar chants?
dabbling in helvegen?

  dating... what a weird concept...
whenever i get a chance, i'll sit with a thai
surprise (bisexual, female)...
manage to take her home, play her some
jazz... **** her in the garden...
                            walk her home...
"date"... when it comes to prostituites...
when it comes to prostitutes...
    britney spears  - criminal,
     rihanna - shut up & drive,
   lady gaga - telephone
                       holly valance - kiss kiss
delta goodrem - innocent eyes.....
gay boy got gay rights...
what a boring time to be alive in...
just when homosexuality was no longer tabooo,
norman stephen "typo" *******...
boring homosexuality...
  antithesis artistic homos...
gays are boring me with their antics,
i'd also love latex love triangles...
but...
  i'm not joining in,
since i haven't been made welcome...
         welcome this:
the rightful pucker of a knuckle count's worth
of a sucker!

    i've experienced only: 3, loves at first sight...
kot... i rememher her surname,
she was the first to kiss me,
aged, roughly 7...
    priya.... my ex-girlfriend's
younger sister...
                          isabella of grenoble...
who took my virginity...
oh, ****...
        there was freckles galore daniella...
at st. augustine's... rabbit to her...
there was... milena...
there was samatha...
                there was jadwiga...
                       there was janina...
i fell in love too many times...
there was ilona of novosibirsk...
   gregoria who licked my face
like a cow...
                 the ukranian *******,
the bulgarian prostitutes who i stole
kisses from,
the serbian strippers...
   packaged boy,
  postcard ****-acto...
                 the australian fling...
half hindu half scouser...
towering beauty with the looks
akin to tweety bird lips (as my irish friend
noted)...

women... ah ha ha...
           i guess 3 months is long enough
for me to be with them...
    last time i checked, she was on her period,
and i was gagging...
last time i checked: ******* a *******
her period alleviates the period pains...
she didn't let me,
instead? i received a week
bound to reading Bulgakov...

           condoms are great when used
to **** a ******* her period...
that's how i started to hate relationships...
*** monopoly..
   and readings from cosmopolitan magazine
about the out-dated
idiosyncracy of relationship statuses...

4. pride / stubborness (not equal to) honour,
tolerating islam is not the same
as respceting islam...
german 19th century fascination
with islam...
θought and φilosophy...
greek in warsaw, giving him directions,
talks: sounds so much like spanish...

     i can tolerate islam,
but, i can't respect it....
    how could i respect it?
           i met a greek in warsaw....
he sounded like a goth,
     how the spanish tongue sounded
much akin to the greek zunge...     

chamaleon tongue,                    shape shifter,
bez akcentu w piśmie - więciej akcentu poza pismem
(trainspotting scottish), welsh, cockney,
east london altogether, pakistani english, etc.
e.g. rather, or raver, i.e. not rayver
(someone who parties at night on an ecstasy pill)
but ra'ver, like verging on a new discovery,
it's not even the = ~v but is actually v...
english is a chamaleon tongue, you say 'nostic
when you write gnostic, i say diagnostic,
therefore say gnostic, you say 'nome, i say gnome,
as cf. with diagnostic;
then there's the case of the per se:
you say chamaleon - no kappa there apperent, eh?
but there's chappie, chap, chuckles,
no kappa in a millionth chance
to also say nough'ledge for knowledge,
a bit like that gnome of yours...
as i said before: a language without
a written insertion of stressors / distinctions
will produce a massive array of diacritical
stressors / distinctions outside the written format,
but it will also become as complex as to
allow adults with learning difficulties e.g. dyslexia,
and that horrid internet slang of shortcuts:
i ate my 8 when i was late for my disco date
with the cha cha cha melon.

          mind you: i always seemed to "mis-pronounce"
words in english... first came puma:
i was laughed at on a primary school bus
heading from st. augustine's (half-way between
gants hill and barkingside) to the barkingside
swimming pool: where i learned to swim
by myself, very much akin to me learning
the english language, by myself,
dropped into the deep end,
i was a complete mute...
my parents were also learning the zunge...
so they couldn't exactly teach me,
i had to learn it myself...
      so it wasn't puma: with that hollowed
out U...
      i.e. pú-mah... it was: pew-mah...
or piu-mah...
           weird...
                   then i found other examples...
i was once more corrected
when it came to the celts...
                       it wasn't cedilla "riddled":
çelts, but Kelts...
    funny that... the football team from glasgow
is dubbed çeltic, not celtic: isn't it?
i loved being corrected about my
pronounciation... get corrected enough times,
and then... light: you get to sprechen such
things as:
   what sort of orthography aesthetic discussion
can i have with an englishman,
when his sole diacritical markers
hover over an ιo: iota: i / ι...
   and that dotless antithesis of java - ȷ -
like in dante's canto XXVIII:
                               Bertrand de Born,
two completely pointless orthographical -
as i would rather call them:
indulgences rather than errors,
otherwise not necessary...
             excess spelling... and particular,
hidden, pronounciation variables...
that's as much of an orthographic debate
you will ever get from an englishman,
given their lack applied diacritical markers...
hey... if the english speaking peoples
love their "reality" chequers...
   their metaphysics...
           i have something as pertinent, ready,
orthography is far more interesting
to me than the grandeour of metaphysics...
so now we have to figure out
the third sister... given the already associated
benzene ring directions of associating
compound groups:
   ortho-,
                      meta-,
                            ­           para-...
  can't just leave it to paranorman / -"normal"...
para- needs to be associated with something
else if we're going to venture
with orthography and metaphysics
and further...

    another decent example?
       gnomes...           gnostics...
why is the g treated as a surd at the beginning
of the word, hence? 'nomes hence 'nostics...
but all the more apparent in a word like
diagnostics?
                               i guess i've found my
new playground: the english vocabulary.

p.s. if there's a hay patch at the beginning, the nasal flute
will ask larry 'the lynx' saxophone to hark it out with rasp
gritting of phlegm... but if it's somewhere else down
the piccadilly line... it will act like a nudist spy and resonate
less than expected; probably mingling with f, i think.

the time it takes to travel from
ostrowiec świętokrzyski...
mein klein
        scheisseloch
               aus geburtdorf - - - - - - - - - - - -

arriving at Stansted airport...
at the passport
    hall...

    achtung bitte...
then some Spanish...
and at last English...
i almost forget where i was...

i was about to write an epic...
saturated with so little
of thought...
but, alas... bombarded
by two shots of bourbon,
distracted by
something found between

a mountain, a chair,
a man and a fern
(yes, a cat... sleeping in my bed)...

imagine being sober for
over a month!
  imagine!
one IPA beer throughout
the "tenure" of holy holy holy

- - - - - - - - - - -
   my little ****-hole
                       from, birth-village

       what?!
i'm not going to learn German
being so god-**** entrenched in
Englisch and Schlavikschisch...
"too many consonants"...
that's what the English colts
used to say seeing western
Slavic for the first time...
"too many" consonants...

    sounds like "t'oo mime'any"
    pronouns in the post-Germanicus
post-isch              Eisland...

EPIC! EPIC!
over a month sober and...
new year's resolution?

  don't visit a brothel...
buy vinyls...
   and visit that
gresham publishing company
in London...
with the collection
of Dickens...

     - - - - - - - -
(Kandinsky / *******... all over
zis grossenwahn...
great delusion)

   but the time it takes to
travel by coach from
   ostrowiec świętokrzyski to Warsaw?
see...

  you never appreciate certain
types of music genres in
certain places...
opera... where do you listen to opera?
in an operhauß!

            pierdolone kacapy!
rho si si... si si kurva... si i zawsze ja!
    ия
                  siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii
                  jaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

pierdu pierdu: a.i.

        never mind, not today...
not straight off the boat type of...
"poem"...
just a blitzkrieg...
like any blitzkrieg...
reactionary?
                          that blinking
sensation...
        EPI                   LEP           (P)SY    

(we'll come onto greek in
a minute...
just one letter...

oh much much prior to
the antithesis of sudoku,
i.e. mahjong,
               solitaire...
   the OTHER,                    NPC...
finite model theory...
                    heinz-dieter ebbing)  

point being?
jazz? a bedroom and a cafe...
classical music though?

grand architecture or...
the most mundane "there"
   with a crooked mirror of
"being", with what remains:
   das ist:                   da ist nicht!

meine! oder ohne mir!

                      und es ist...
  und es ist...
                          
  the compedium of man's surmount
in but a few words made
totem, god, beast or with a mask
to guise a face upon a lake,
a moon delving into Monday,
a scythe into the sickle
and the plums of fortune
come August's choir of wheat...

a trickle of the poetic,
a tickling of the drunk...
  
  and here in England they cared for
what became dyslexic
hyperinflated:
yoga granny yog'ha
             for the pronoun:
who what where?
      basic... 2 i see two i too c to see
'ere i wh'       her i err
who i... go when?

when is pronoun!
   times what?
who!
when times what equals who!

woo woo woo...

a whole month speaking nothing
but ****** with my grandparents...
drop my tongue into
a barrel of bourbon...
of course i'll exfoliate!

   - and i liked classical music prior...
but...
hmm...
sitting there in the coach,
decided to chose a letter...

i once did this "thought experiment"
while studying the chemically
enchanced marijuana
of post hippy post pink floyd England...
skunk...
how to... pseudo-Buddha...
not think...
seek the holy grail... the third eye...
same **** different cover
*******...

        mind you...
it did work...
where did my thinking unbecome
narration?
oh... right... poetry and
the prophecies of the weather forecast:
the solid 5 minutes
of fame ordained to surpass
the 15 already promised
by Dandy W.

              classical music...
sitting uncomfortably?
good...
now you need a coach trip...
and...

ideal timing...
from
   ostrowiec świętokrzyski
to Warsaw you can listen to
robert schumann's

   fantastical tracks op. 12,
   arabeska c-dur op. 18,
                 childhood's scenes op. 15,
     forest scenes op. 82

and
     beethoven's
     IX symphony d-mol op. 125...
entering Warsaw...
like some vague...
comedy of... Wagner...
        luftwaffezunahme...

orgasmusrittwalküregodemicheservus
­
and i just said there...
most uncomfortable...
  Λ...
                 no... not a syllable...
Λ...
                   two eyes...
and a pin-point...
   on the forehead...
a missing, a hush, no narrative...
a "meditation"
(now, that's ambitious)...

  lambda...

                no... not O(micron,
or     -mega)...
  
           Λ...
  an... "effect"...
   (yes yes, either an ambiguity,
or a misnomer, that "     "     capsule)

         how did i notice Λ?

the digital clock in the coach,
i wanted to encapsulate...
something given,
a priori...

                           not this:
a posteriori mesh mish mash U O MSH,
this perpetual synthesis
of an acquired tongue...

i wanted to block
a meaning...
so i tuned into the music...
   and began blanking, stare-matching
waterfalls to staircaseas...

it began with

   14 : 30

14 : : : : : : : : : :
   : : : : : : : : : :
      : : : : : : : : : :
   : : : : : : : : : :
   : : : : : : : : : :
         : : : : : : : : : : 14 : 31

after a while i deviate
from even minding
the : : : : : : : : : :
   : : : : : : : : : :
      : : : : : : : : : :
   : : : : : : : : : :
   : : : : : : : : : :
         : : : : : : : : : :
  count

   ⠃  b
       ⠅     k
⠭    x
                ⠃ 2

after a while?

    given the λ-effect?

  well... y... h... λ... μ...

              what the hell
is north is there is no
actual Copernican "north"?

sure... the earth isn't flat...
but "where" the hell is
"north" in the Copernican
scheme of things?!
there isn't one, is, there?

hence the blurry:

   magic number on calculator
screens in math class in school:

8008135:
              8, ∞, S, 5, rune, sharpened,
etc.
    ∞, 8: 5 S...

                        5318008: *******!

IO:3Γ

                  1b:6B

              chess?
     poker?
                                bridge?

IZ:ZS (12:25)...

                       over a month spent
sober... with an exception
of watching the Decalogue
8 or 9...
                    (kieślowski) -
with an IPA...
                              (indian pale ale)...

23rd. of November 2018...
i can still remember
sitting on a barstool next to her,
sipping a Guinness...
at 7am...

   i've never seen a woman
read two pages of a book
for so long in my life...
well... attempt to read a book...
contantly checking
her phone...

                 it's hard to feel ashamed
drinking in the morning
in an airport,
surrounded by hefty
***** in a bunch
heading off for a bachelor
party
with one dressed in
Pampers...

                          but i kept
her company...
   **** me...
                       23rd November
2018...
           a lot must have happened
since then...

              she sooner
finished her pint of lager,
i my pint of Guinness,
she checked her phone
more times than i blinked...
and still...
she only managed to
turn only one page
of a book...

     bad luck... 'Dannielle'...
a book, an airport,
a morning cover?
        
   - but i've never seen a person
take so much time to turn
over a page or two
of a book...
this is hardly a place
to call into question
a conversation starter:
so watch'ah reading?
is it?

    didn't think so...
   books, now, then, 10 years ago...
and now...
bypassing standard bearers...
Urban II sorts...
   books as items of nouveau vogue
attaches...

   sorts:
   kippahs of the trendy
Brooklyn sort...

            
hell: **** it... let's wreck this
like a Machine Head song
akin to bulldozer...

   if Pandora had a box...
Eureka had an attic.

when will people stop ascribing
poetical techniques
   to mental disorders
       in their casual, informal,
ascription sequences?
     psychosis does not translate
into psychopathy...
just because the two words share
the same prefix,
   doesn't imply that -
   "somehow" they're one and the same...
melancholy:
lethargy, and a lost sense of cognitive
"will"... automated thinking...
how many times during
the day do i imagine throwing
myself under a train?
   for the hard-on about 20 times
before i get out of bed...
   which is 20 times less than
when i stood on a roof,
    on an industrially sized complex,
notably the scottish widows hq
near st. paul's and thought
about jumping...
     and pancakes...
    and the thrill of the fall...
and then the initial shock
of impact, followed by a pause...
and then the sigma of pain rushing
into my body...
     schizophrenia is a different
version of lethargy,
   most mental conditions are
lethargy inducing,
                     or quasi-paralyzing...
one psychosis can last a year,
or years, another, can last a week...
but when your thought patterns,
are subverted by auditory hallucinations,
psychosis: the trip for champions,
l.s.d. trip will not do justice
to a psychosis "trip",
         alcohol helps as both
a sedative... & a pentothal derivative...
it's: disinhibiting...
          but not to the point
where i send someone a ******* ****-pic...
what sicko would do such a thing?
a psychopath would...
    psychopaths do not have
enough emotional "intelligence" /
gradation to encounter an ego-dissociation,
last time i heard:
instead of a healthy dosage of
serotonin,
      they have a pathological dosage
of dopamine: or some ****,
equivalent to that...
      if i were an expert on this matter,
i'd be paid...
     and since i'm not,
i'm simply concentrating my attention
of the general public vernacular,
namely:
      why are psychiatric conditions,
spoken of,
   in such poetic terms,
heavily reliant
             on the technique of metaphor?
we already have the phenomenon
of premature depression,
which seems to coincide with
the 19th century phenomenon
of premature dementia (schizophrenia)...
psychiatric literature is my thing,
when i went to a psychiatrist
i was told: 'you have good insight
into your condition'...
i just nodded, kept my mouth shut,
when i went to the *******,
i was told: 'you're nice'...
"forgot" my genitals and smooched
for an hour,
   i just forgot the fun part of kissing,
got bored of looking down on *******
and the gymnastics of genital
interaction...
   when i was supposed to go
to the priest... i...
             funny story...
   i walked into an empty church...
   paranoid as ****,
smoked a joint, walked around central
London, cowered into a church
near Camden Town
(opposite the postal service
hangar - near to the King's Cross
Station) -
              went to the side altar,
took a white sheet from the altar,
lay under the altar,
   and heard... a descending choir...
got up... started running around
the empty church...
   without saying a word...
     then a great wind...
   a breath that imbued me with a fear
much greater than what i was
experiencing on my psychotic "trip"
on the street...
        i thought, yeah "thought"
of one word:              SATAN...
    and the 40 days and nights spent
fasting in the desert,
    i called my ex-girlfriend
when i got out of the church:
while some Spaniard was walking in,
sat on the curb, phoned her,
and said: 'can you come over to
X location, and bring me some bread
and water?'
       whatever they say about
the sort of marijuana extra-strong
chemically enchanced skunk
of England? you can... become psychotic...
if you smoke, and walk in public,
and put nothing into your gob.
conversion? what?
   just plain honesty...
      no wonder i kept my mouth
and didn't want to convince people,
i still don't... **** happens...
             this was, when?
   oh... back in 2007... when i was 21...
now it's 2019...
   i rarely recount this event,
it's too much of an existential shell-shock...
i'd compare it to a suicide bomber
detonating his vest on the bus...
and you're, literally just taken a sip
of coffee while walking down a street...
do i believe "god" exists?
i don't have to...
          do i have to convince other
people that "god" exists?
   no... not really...
                  i'm glad i kept that event
to myself for so long...
          but it just gets on my nerves
when people mingle an outlier,
like me,
    with psychopathic individuals...
if you've never experienced a psychotic
"trip"...
   you know jack-****...
           take some l.s.d. and...
look at the bright colours and the sparkling
neon lights...
the end...
            given that i know of no drug
that allows you experience
auditory hallucinations...
   funny... isn't it... given how auditory
hallucinations are...
   by my estimation...
                 the sort of "pain"
                      that would leave some
wishing for a ******* toothache;
it's the sort of "claustrophobia"
     with the only "room" is your own head...
and your ego is being flushed
down the toilet of a shy hive of "spectators"...
as i've aged: **** me... 12 years...
yeah... i can tell when it's stable,
and when it's not...
        once i walked from Romford...
to the Dartford Crossing,
           then toward Barking...
   somehow managed to catch a bus...
left the house at 12am,
came home at 11pm...
   blisters on my feet...
     just because i had a vivid dream
of sleeping on a couch downstairs,
and an ominous shadow figure standing
outside the window...
    i was kicked into this trance-paranoia
state where i had to walk it off...
i had to translate this mental pain
         into a physical pain...
that's how i began knowing that
physical pain can alleviate the symptoms
of mental "pain"...
        which probably explains
why the pwetty pwetty teenage girls
choose to self-harm...
   just saying: it's not right,
    but now i can sort of understand
the justification...
         an old man is able to justify
melancholy...
   his life is at its end,
   the house has been built...
               but this current phenomenon
of premature depression?
              speculation after speculation,
after some more speculation...
    but to just blatantly borrow from
a psychiatric lexicon,
   to justify explaining one's general
abhorrence to any given event?
   a psychopath as also being psychotic?
**** on me...
  what a poor choice of words...
bad analogy,
   and even ******* description tactics...
but i guess there's still some use
for poetry in the collective parlance
of a vulture journalism class of people...
at no point encountering a psychotic
episode implies
losing i.q. points...
            in my scenario:
                    the faculty for learning
rigid chemistry rubrics...
was replaced by an unihibited thirst
for language, and its conveyance.
i still don't get it:
   "journalism" as reading journalistic
articles...
   i'm not convinced...
           that sort of, "journalism"
belongs to a sunday edition of a newspaper,
in the news review section,
or... something akin to
that section: letters to the editor...
but ++,
             poetry is still in use...
       psychiatric terminology used
as the crux of adjective and subsequent
metaphor...
              psychosis has so little
with psychopathy that...
             i just don't know where to begin...
again, there are outliers...
        a axe wielding psychotic
who managed to ****...
                             1 person...
   before experiencing a shattering
sense of guilt and a continued sense
of disorientation
                      from auditory hallucinations...
how i tamed mine?
   fear of god...
                       yeah... that "guy"
on the *****-nilly side of the petulant opposite
of the happy-to-pray-folk...
        but a psychopath?
  cool, collected... enough brain-numbing
dopamine in his head, or lack of...
   like: a part of his brain is just
"dead"?
      well... 49 is not a bad number...
it would usually take about 7 jihadis
to ramp that number up to over a 100.

.finally! heilung has released their album! i'll also join in at night, singing out my "mongolian" didgeridoo: the sounds one can make, with one's mouth closed.

also...
             talking... talking ruins writing,
it's one thing to give over
one's idle hands to the devil,
another to give one's idle
tongue to "god"...

                          - so between all the tripping
hippies from the supposed
  "golden age" of nostalgia genesis:
the 1960s...
            all the lysergic acid...
all the psilocin in: invading fungus...

       what a luxury that must
have been, "back then"...
       to have been able to experiment
with such... "assurances"
   (it's always going to be either
a metaphor or a misnomer,
                 just to keep the flow)...

of course i'm jealous...
             smoking marijuana in the late
00s was peppered with a paranoia
of being caught by the police...
   always, always in the back of your mind...
and since england has managed
to shove its head up h'america's ***
in terms of appreciating its culture...
it's more akin to: em... "oops"?
sorry, the dutch beat you to it...
you know what the germans
call the netherlands?
      ha ha... israel of the north...
yep... met two of them in amsterdam,
they made the reference to:
the promised land.

                 yeah... when marijuana was
marijuana, and not some chemically enchanced
monstrosity pushed by vietnamese
slave workers...
      o.k., i can get visual hallucinations...
but auditory?!
from marijuana?!
                the **** are these south asian
chinks pushing?!
   i know of one example:
the boy cut his genitals off,
then murdered his mother...
        i know of stubborn people...
          there's an inherent stubborness
in people... which probably explains
a lot given their historical predicament...
but then there's the "unlearned"
stubborness of a people...
who have read as much as is necessary
to allow them a regained status
of: illiteracy...
    they read: but they don't really
get the problem...
  so: take out the plough...
and plow along... toff-oblivious...
   she ******* called me a ******* yuppie
because i self-taught myself
this language...
                what... mommy ******
daddy ****** with their kept accents
taught me chameleon?
no... but the english authorities
taught me that i'm not exactly
a comfortable citizen to deal with...
maybe i fooled,
or maybe i simply exhausted...
oh... about ten psychiatrists...
    and behold: there's no asylum to keep
me in...
and for that?
do i look stupid,
or do they look stupid,
       because if england
has crammed its *** up h'america's
****... isn't marijuana legal
these days?

   i could have a sense of hatred
for england, akin to some jihadi...
   no... hatred is too exhausting
and it requires an immediate release...
i pity...
        i can't forgive...
because i can't forget...
            i pity, and therefore:
look down...
             and not from some higher
point of moral authority...
i'm as degenerate as the rest of them...
but from a perspective of
nuance... and hindsight...
          it could have been so much
simpler...
      if these... dittoheads stopped
making cannibalistic insinuations
of replica speech
with that "particular" genesis
                     of... you know the words:
this is my body...
           this is my blood...
      poetry is out-dated...
       oh it's all depressing and desperate...
yeah... now get me Samson
to rugby tackle that pillar of yours
and we'll be on our way.