for me, the beginning & end of all comic book movies begins & ends with Unbreakable... i really don't need to see any other comic book movie, i'm tired of this infantilizing... i'll watch them... but... Unbreakable hits the mark, hell... the whole trilogy does... Split was just as good, Glass to boot... what's the alternative? some... Bergman?! some... Bell, Book & Candle from 1959... starring Kim Novak... the original take on The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947)... Roman Polanski's The Ninth Gate... Unbreakable resonates with me... perhaps not so much the movie... the soundtrack... the soundtrack always grows on me... esp. since now i'm performing a security job at football stadiums...
that Dalmatian punch up with myself really did help
today... ooh ooh... oh... the bruise...
perception is everything: to appear as X...
without disclosing Y is key...
i wasn't lying though...
i just didn't brag about it...
sure... a Dalmatian patch of plum on my left eye...
which i self-inflicted...
well... it made me look more dashing...
i don't think i've ever managed so many
women look at me with so much
attention to clarify, ahem, "something"...
it was only a short shift... 4 hours at Oxford...
but, getting to Oxford & back...
left Romford at circa 3pm... only got back
home at... circa 1am...
and what better way to spend the end of a shift
than... drinking and scribbling doodles?
i don't even want to think that i'm
writing anything meaningful,
i just want to write in order for the per se
experience... i stopped thinking narratively
a long time ago...
that res cogitans / res narratio / narrandus /
narratus... in the realm of the original?
of the thinking thing?
that person died...
ergo? i have to go into the realm of
the res extensa: the extended thing...
i do my "thinking" by writing...
writing is an extension of my "thinking": or, rather...
my cognitive-deprivation is nothing more than...
me... stretching a rubber-band...
waiting for a moment to snap it...
i absorb experiences & later transform them
into scribbles...
on the way to Oxford... Dan: the 6ft5 "viking"...
big man Dan...
no... he's not being a **** about it...
he's just fiddling with the space made available
to him... i'm still bewildered by his...
ability to split attention between texting
while driving, texting, eating something & driving...
at least he stopped being twitchy with his
personal music choices... safe man...
decided to switch radio stations...
i sort of think he's starting to like me...
at the induction he folded my hood so that the word
STEWARD printed on a high-viz. could be made
visible... then took a picture...
posted it on the company's social media website...
then unrolled my hood...
there was no chance for a handshake
when we ****** off back to Romford...
so i put a hand on his shoulder with the words:
thank you & may you have a good night...
my Turkish barber already used me for one
of those: BEFORE & AFTER photographs
for his up-and-coming social media presence...
you'd think i might have gotten a free haircut for my...
ahem... "modelling" efforts...
no matter... i'm not here for the money...
i don't have a wife, i don't have children...
oh... but the best children to have: are the ones
that aren't your own...
perhaps that's different for women...
but... as a man... i'm falling in love with these *******
gremlins!
like today... at the turnstiles...
clocked in 252 people walking through my gate...
didn't have a scanner... just a clicker...
one poor dad implored me to let him through...
he had his seasonal pass... his son forgot his...
i winked... sure... see no evil, hear no evil... speak no evil...
but this other father & 4 teenage girls...
exact words: her, dude!
how's your day been...
that ******* Dalmatian eye-patch must have
given me away...
oh hey Dudette! how's you?
god almighty! give me dogs, give me cats,
give me children... give me the charge of Abraham's *****!
but don't... think... you'll satiate my
taste for eternity... with a ******* HAREM!
no! *******, right now!
while you're still standing... ******* with the harem...
right now...
call it the wisdom of king Solomon i'll call it:
the miseries of king Solomon...
king David was happier among his *******
psalms than in any presence of a woman...
*******, right now...
cats, dogs, children... & a curiosity for eternity...
no... no women...
but that's the great thing about going mad
in your early 20s... from smoking some ****...
&... hearing a choir or singers...
in an empty church, dispersed,
to the best of my ability: by an arching wind...
a breath that utters no words
yet utters a tornado...
you can't go mad, twice! it's a double jeopardy case...
- we were on our way for a shift at Oxford football ground...
4 guys and 2 girls...
obviously the girls were ******* talkative...
breaking of the ice, Titanic, blah blah this...
blah blah that...
at the grounds conversation took turn to height...
Dan 6ft5, moi 6ft2... some girl... argued against
being 5ft11... hair as green, fluorescent as any...
generic... woke brigade alphabet soup spew
****** local "diacritical with a *****" might come across:
outside a working environment...
one "Viking" here, another there...
oh, but one of the girls in our commute was acting odd...
how did i get my Dalmatian's patch?
i'm not going to brag...
how old are you?
i'm getting a cab back home, you want to share?
she nervously joked until i choked on my own
presence: stop trying to hold me hand...
you want to hold my hand?
she just offered me a ******* gelatin sweet...
i was donning my jacket as if i had my arm broken...
i'm hot, i'm sweating... well... you're sitting
next to a furnace...
is this broad hitting on me...
oh, great... what's available?
the Ancient Roman scenario of fathering
******* children...
if these are are my peers...
how unlucky i am...
the ones that have managed to reproduce...
this broad gaining ground on me...
her ex was... is... an alcoholic... so obviously
she's raising... 3 brats all on her own...
this other broad was ***** by her ex...
well, sure... great... stories... life's messy...
why did entertaining psychosis suddenly leave me...
so in-tune with being organised aged 35?
if you can handle a crowd of rowdy football hooligans...
in the long run... i can still do this on the side...
but... here's to me getting some references
and endeavour a role as a chemistry teacher...
i can't even brag about it...
you don a Dalmatian patch for your eye
for... they will never have guessed i was
having an argument with my shadow,
that i had a fight with my shadow...
well; that i punched myself...
from the turnstiles to the segue between the home
supporters & the visiting supporters...
as i already remarked...
it might only haven been Wimbledon AFC...
but it was a southern team...
those ******* ***** from Wigan (Athletic)...
fellow coworker even remarked:
must be something in the air...
point being, the further north you go in England...
the more... religiosity you experience...
all the London folk are tame...
i actually received a handshake from a father
& his son... at one point the son implored his father:
can i go up into the higher stands & chant
with the "hooligans"...
everyone seemed so well behaved, though...
well **** me Jeremy Cricket!
maybe i should lay off the employment & support
allowance that i fuelled my writing ambitions
with... focus more on the security job prospects...
then think about the reference & get a position
in a school teaching... chemistry!
sounds like a plan...
however... men... working alongside women...
on the way back the silence was almost choking her...
4 guys, 1 girl... oh but she's a big girl...
she was an almost... fantasy fetish of a...
no, not an ava lauren... more akin to...
i forget... i don't want to remember...
hold my hand insinuation...
want to take a taxi back with me...
how old are you...
i thought we were simply working together?
work's best:
when you ask the least amount of...
disclosing answers, don't you think? no?
no, that's not how this modern take
of woman! BUFF! BEEFED UP work, like?
oh, sure sure... she's the ******* heavyweight belt of
weightlifting all of a sudden & i'm supposed
to take on the "feelz" of ******* Tinkerbell!
the end.
