I was alone deep within my thoughts lost in nature.
in other words passed out in the park as usual from a night of deep research and binge drinking hey everyone needs a ******* hobby okay.

I was just about to do some deep sea diving I'm kidding it's more like explore the hot tub with Jennifer Aniston and Lawrence hey I bought those goggles why not put them  to some good perverted use right?

When all the sudden I was pulled from my ******* utopia and brought to reality with some strange hamster dressed like a troll throwing bean bags at my head Jesus Christ this is why I stopped passing out in truck stops.

I banish you strange drunken  wizard with a banishing spell .
he said as he kept throwing his strange little bean bags at me I tell you
you have to worry about a man playing with his bean bags in the park I mean sure that kind of **** flew in third world countries like Canada  
but here in the states we had guns so we could protect  areselves and go hunting cause who doesn't love some male bonding?
Or buying a A-K 47  to  blow the living crap out of everything insight .  

**** the woods it's filled with to many fury hippies to began with and what wall doesn't say high class better than some animals head on it looking like it just got prison *****.
Yeah it looks so natural  and dead that is .

But enough with the foreplay and back to the bean bag throwing troll nerd .
Hey man your supposed to exit the playing field after I hit you with that ******* .

The strange dressed nerd said then snickred to with fellow dork homies.
You got to love newbies they don't even know a level 12 troll God from a ***** cave spider.

They all seemed to be smoking crack for they all busted up laughing at this strange little escaped from the asylum hamster.

I wasn't sure if I should just run or try to speak with these odd nerd folk  they kind of of reminded me of Muppets on acid yeah that was a bad trip don't ask.
Boy I never knew Miss Piggy was such a **** or a gymnast.

Excuse me gaydolf 
So  is there so reason you woke me up or are you just off your meds and looking to throw your bean bags at the first drunken in semi coma person you find sleeping on a bench ?

Your not part of the game?

The strange little troll nerd asked me and from the surprise in his voice I could tell this weird little hamster was on some great ******* drugs once told me two things.
One I needed to dump these ******'s like a truck stop burrito.
And two I had to  find out who his doctor was cause I wanted triple of whatever this kid was having .

No sir I'm not part of a game or show unless it's being the judge of a wet t shirt contest cause I do believe in supporting the *******.
Hey **** the whales save the *******  they look awesome and who cares bout the environment duh there's sharks in there didn't you ever see jaws besides everyone knows I'm allergic to water.
That's why I drink whiskey its much better for you besides ever see flipper hop out the ocean for a bathroom break ?


Hey this dude isn't part of the realm were in he's just some old *** drunk.
Another strange hamster said to his Troll friend.

Oh sir I do beg your pardon here take this .
The troll nerd handed me a bottle .
Now this was more like it I kicked it back and tasted the most foul tasting ***** I'd ever tasted in my life .

Dear lord man what is this ****! ?
Umm its called bottled water dude the troll replied .

I looked at the plastic container in a mix of total disgust and hell these kids were into some weird ****.

Water huh tastes like **** what the hells the proof ?  
Umm it's water ******* it doesn't have a proof .

I tried to grasp what the two headed tall one had said but was lost .
How could anyone drink anything not to catch a buzz what twisted sick little ******* had I run across?

I had enough of these strange garden gnomes **** I reached for my trusty flask a hit of some good old 80 proof trying to rid myself of the taste of this poison called water .

Look I do not even want to know what your nerds are up to but unless it involves some hot stripper elves  a bottle of cooking oil and a twister game count me out.

Looking at me like most people do with that mix of confusion and a feeling like they needed a bath there strange leader spoke up.
Sir you have to understand we are larping and on a quest we simply confused you for another drunken wizard .

Well I can understand that my sexually confused  nerd friend but I think you need to seriously go on a  quest with me .

Your on a quest the troll dork asked lighting up like Taylor Swift after just stealing the soul of yet another misguided hamster and brainwashing millions in to believe she actually had talent or a soul I'm just saying .


Yes Gaydolf I'm on a mighty quest to get my magic  staff  blown by some cheap ****** but enough about my ******* wife.
Yeah the internets filled with perverts and if you search long enough you might just luck out and find your very own ****** with a heart of gold or drunken long winded perverted ******* like myself .

Sir I have you know me and my knights of honor are true gentlemen why we need no pleasures of cheap ******  we have the company of each other songs and campfires to drive are passions who here amongst my circle would like to follow this demented nut on some ****** bag quest for the earthly pleasures of the flesh?

The little troll nerd turned around to see his round table of fellow ******'s gone .

What the ****!

We could here his cries as me and my new crowd  of  odd little dressed hamsters were off to the Hotseat ******* in search of ***** ,Strippers and hopefully trick one of these naughty dancing hamsters into a quest play hide the sword in the well you get the point.
cause hopefully someone with some cheesy name like sparkle or Bambi or Candy would .


Sir Gonzo the strange looking Cyclops of my new entourage asked?
Yeah what is it amigo?
Do you not fear the wrath of the troll gods mom?
I mean she did bring us all here in here minivan and all.

Well my one eyed nerd friend in are quests you will learn many things there are to fear .
But nothing far worse than the river of fire that spews from thy staff after a goodnight with the ***** of the back alley.

Oh no worries Sir Gonzo I have plenty of spell packs of penicillin .
Hey does ***** Debra still do that trick with a ping pong ***** and a picture of Kanye Wests face?

We  can only hope my one eyed friend you know I cant believe you know bout ***** Debra I said with a bit of surprise in my already getting there drunken lets get this ******* ****** **** story over voice.

Duh what do you think I am one of those twilight homos sir Gonzo?
My Cyclops nerd friend replied.

that night was epic we laughed we darnk we watched a Canadian cave troll totally make out with a ****** from the magic kingdom  Minnie mouse is such a freak and I know what your saying like the nut that wrote this ***** isn't?

Thank you hamsters that truly means a lot.

Are quest was epic are night spoke of in nerds who dream only to grasp a ***** strippers ******* let alone snort coke off there arses .

I never saw my socially awkward friends again yeah I bet that troll nerd Billy Gates sits even now wishing he truly had grabbed life by the bean bag and sized the day I wonder what ever happened to him.

Stay Crazy hamster .

Always your Captain of the insane

Gonzo

War is profit for some
It's loss for all.
There is catastrophe waiting
By remains of their wall

The web that we share
The warm nets enclosure
Of friendship and sharing
Is almost over

How blind in our friendship
Love and peace flowers
Mistakes in our sharing
Decay in the bower

We opened the door
Sharing to commerce
Internets over
We let in the worst

Barrels of oil painted smooth in acryllic
fill up the cracks with a feeling
spit out the money to feed the machine

Fair if it's toiling kids
draped along spoiled villians
immersed to serve the version of a billionaire's dream

eat the rich

Try me after I've been taught
I could've bought my chain

I would've lost my name

I should've dropped my shame facade
to play the game

We grew the youthful breath of heaven from the clay beneath our bones
imbued and innervated

aided you and drew the oath to play within the zone

circle reverie treasury burdens
bury the feathery,
herding squarely to fame - put on a show

eat the rich
dare me

you and yours invaded
bated breath had sung belated effort, whistle "death has reared it's head
at our expense so grab a sword.
We can war this **** straight out of this ole ditch
and fix whatever ***** gone wrong with it
with grit and sense

and build a fence"

Forget the soil your roots are grown in,
if you want to.

bask in shadow
of the weight of trust and decency
impeding our advances to your winner's table
fabled robin hoods with internets

guess who's deft enough let you know through every filter
left for us we may upset your dinner guests

let em know what's on the menu

eat the rich

let em know

The irony in learning
how to burn the fuel that kills you
after all the warning signs were there
sound familiar? it's a slog

burnin up, they'll crawl around
and find a meal on common ground
try the light show one more time
maybe that'll work

"The serfs are like a herd you see
they can't be riled along without a sermon
Burden them with silks and styles
worry them toward money piles"

Remind them of the fire they've been turning

Analogies aside I must abide by me and mine
but I've still got my eye on anything
...concerning

eat the rich
with discretion I guess.

This is for all my battle buddies, HOOAH!
Serving in Iraq,
Serving in Afghanistan.
With a grainy, sandy, hot, and humid desert surrounding you.
Looking into miles of nothing.
Always ready, always on patrol, ready to roll.
Ducking your head to re-load in the middle of the firefight.
Taking a stand against the evils of the world.
To my battles with integrity,
We all bleed the same,
Fighting for freedom of the Red, White, and Blue
Live green die green
Scream it with me at the top of your lungs:
HOOAH!
Soldier people;

This for all the clowns that play Video Games
Talking that 1337 (LEET) speak
Owning some newbs for fun
Screaming at the little kids that they ****
I’m taking on the girls 1 versus 1
Passing by the hours staring at the screen
Drinking Mountain Dew, and eating skittles
Sniping people with your M4,
Blowing them up as they walk through the door
Gamer people;

This is for all my Tech-y nerds
Working with computer components
Make sure you stay grounded
We don’t want an electrical eruption
I hated Network Theory,
But I still didn’t get a B.
The “have you tried restarting,” people.
Surfing the Internets, refer to Wikipedia people.
Tech people;

This is for all the Snowboard bums,
We ride hard, but still chill
Jumping in front of the skiers for a mighty thrill
We do it for an Adrenaline rush
Boardin’ through the trees,
And the snow that is white and plush
Snowboard people;

This is for all the Music lovers
That let the beat move their souls
Bumpin’ to the rhythm
Dancing out of control
Let the beat take you away
Fist pump yourself into the night,
Even though I can’t dance, ‘cause I’m White.
Music people.

****** f@ggot shill and f@g
oldf@gs newf@gs rolling hard
trips and dubs and even quads
but OP won't deliver

rate us, hate us, sauce pls now
in this thread we save a cat
mods, is this under 18?
the /b/etards at it yet again
but we don't talk about it

cringe us rekt us make us laugh
this thread's preventing suicide
****** racism sexism ****
we mostly rate body parts in /soc/

normies not welcome
******, alpha, femanon
is a girl? **** or ****!
welcome to the internets
pics or it didn't happen

gore thread? not enough!
self-hate, ponies, rule 34 fap
the "cesspool of the internet"
is really not that bad

I miss you.
The words cut thin, into
what is merely
the tip of this iceberg of hurt.

I stare blankly at the message box,
agonising over the three words...
untyped,
and as yet,
unsaid.
They are so much truer than the ones
already handing there, on the internets
metaphorical hook:
clique,
calculated,
unneeded and without emotional depth.

"Hey, how are you?"

The words are practically part of the set
of desperate messages I have
wanted to send you,
which would surely have rendered me
wholly unattractive to you.

You make me feel as desirable as poo.

No replies, mixed with affectionate goodbyes,
the sighs you make are surely lies,
when you say that you want to see me.

I'm feeling used, my good nature abused
of it's inability to feel suspicion
over your rendition of first loves
broad script.
Yet I leave my sense behind your
lips
which are locked with the key of
my obligingness.
My wish to try to humanise your
cockiness.

I sometimes wish you'd pay more attention
to the descent of me into madness.

This bewitching and beguiling madness,
so unlike the alternative.

The madness in the way you bridge the
gap between us,
an enthusiastic run of fun, and longing
for me.

The madness in the way you seem to
see me.
A sensual creature of beauty, perhaps
my blindness was from the serenity I
seemed grasp from your gaze.
You don't see me, but I'd be lying if
I didn't wish for that to be what I
am to thee.  

You leave me walking around in a daze.

I don't know whether that's a good or a bad thing,
but I know that all you have to do is ring
and I'm there,
I swear I am despicable as I seem.
Because, honestly, I still don't dare dream
that you may wish for this,
something other than my
'heatmaking' kiss.

I hope I can be brave enough to miss you.

But I don't think I can be just yet,
I'm not exactly playing hard to get.  

*enter

mazes of fire and ice
mazes of notes and letters on pages or dreams
re-written at pages seams
slip the triple disked knife
and plow through the world vision
seen as a prisoners gun

using mental capacity to over rule mental castration ,
take the blue pill NEMO!!!!

and swim - in the all pervading ( surrounding )
magnitude forces of universes glow -
making possible all to be known. .


stalling into the oceans
7865461097889383648504826253785969482628494950595858557567465242­4242416112
Binary code
is the internets verse
throwing up pages and screens that look nothing like numbers

but are in actual fact
the elephant in the room

a magnitude of worlds - exist on inter fabricated planes

plane 1 - 'real life'
plane 2- macro cosmic
plane 3 - micro cosmos
plane  4- number plane ( this is the binary code )
Plane 5 - mental world
plane 6- dream world
sixteen dimensions
further than christian or Buddhist invention
but a plethora of random incidents that seem to have a pattern

that sinks deeper into oceans magnificence


arn't we all fishes ?
arn't we all snowballs?
aren't we all just culminations of distractions dissertations
born and thinking

well maybe we should do something now we are here....

In nothing you participate your fingers just twitterpate
Your looking underweight get some eggs with sodium nitrate
Instead of eating up drama an hate you a library of it au fait
Still no ideas or plans to fix **** just sit ******* your privates
Hashtags you post it, celebritys you cancel it, actions you dont do ****

Thats the way of the internet facades as thick as brocades
Your whole persona patent stolen read it off some cards
Copy pasted your fit its blatant obvious in your intent
Every word a dishonest bent not worth a cent
Dont got a shred of sense wont ever repent
Need the roleplay to supplement the lack of respect

Internet gangsters, keyboard warriors, fake woke supporters  
Plenty a arrogance, talk hard put out airs, tell everyone they inferior
Feign ignorance when it benefit but anothers mistake never forgotten
Take any stance all you are is happenstance you aren't anyone
Clone of whoever but only in fairweather never in the autumn

You kick at any who have fallin but ride when they ballin
At another **** you baptizin on the ground kneelin
Before anyone whose poppin your legs are droppin
Which one you feeling today whose personality you groping
which mask your morphine hit to keep you coping

Empty of whats real your life is revolting
Red pill, black pill, everyones a shill, its insulting
Hate leaves behind a shell empty and floating
No anchor fell lost in a sea of loathing

Coming up for air

All manner of characters congregate in airport terminals, there's simply no scene sweeter than a lovesick twenty something staring intently at the door arrivals stroll through. A dozen red roses in hand, and a palatable sense of anticipation and to think, they say romance is dead. I would sit at my desk and watch the same stories play out at least a dozen times a week. The international student, the hopelessly devoted and but of course the people bound by babies and obligation. The spectrum of human emotions on display is by far the most attractive aspect of my occupation, I use the term occupation loosely. I enjoyed talking and asking and watching the smiling faces. If anyone tells you airports are depressing places they've clearly never spent too much time seated outside arrivals it's impossible (for me at least) to not feel lifted by another's joy, call it osmosis.



To most ambitiously minded young people, there is little sense of anticipation for a life lived ordinarily, who dreams of excel spreadsheets? Who tells themselves that in fifteen years time they will pass the same faces from school in shopping centres or swimming pools without batting an eye lid. Though for the lucky few born where they can stay without fear of hunger, persecution or poverty it is hard to appreciate properly the advantages they are born with. It's easy to look past the place you call home. You spend forever thinking of distant lands with foreign food without ever really giving any time to appreciate the place you were born, the satellite town off an anonymous motorway people have traversed continents to call there new home.  It always amazes me how as the people, living with the fruit of centuries worth of social progress, still yearn and complain incessantly. I suppose it's a collective cross to bare for all concerned, we who were lucky enough to be born here, take for granted the things people leave lives behind for. Technological advances have created an almost impossible situation to anyone who happened to live and did before the Internets inception. The almost instantaneous access to news and information has not expanded intelligence or fuelled fires of deep interest, a constant access to news has only served to harden us significantly to the world in which we inhabit. I think it would be short sighted and remarkably naive to say we are the first of human kind to grow complacent, admittedly it's not great but it's a lot closer than it was for anyone before us.  For some it takes a flirtation with disaster, or the loss of a loved one to realise exactly how little we appreciate exactly what we have, for me at least it was a few months working in an airport.

A pinhole camera lets light fall on paper
at the back of the box, in reverse a similar
pulse occurs on internet sites. And as many
bits as in a spectrum of light.

The sensitive paper lines up a
collection of dots just as the range of
sites disperses a plethera of spots.

The cameras yawning slow and stable
effect contrasts with the internets jaw
dropping speeds. A whiplash of light and
off it zips. Sites seem to breed serving all
sorts of needs.

Professional bodies, purveyors of
knowledge, business and commercial
concerns of all manner of goods are
seldom discerned from so many.

A public outcry at the sprawling mess
and secret agendas regarding fetchers,
letchers and abusers hiding in rather
dark corners rushes a plea to regulate.

If only it were those hidden from sight
who have bad intentions, but others
are rumoured to operate at a higher
dimension.

A high pitched screech results in a critical
eye calming the discontent. Ushering in
a series of constraints. Still the fallout
persists and so we go zipping along.    

The sites that deal in personal things continue
on. You can spill the contents of your day and
friends keep coming fascinated by what
you say. It lightens the load to feel tense and
then spent.
.
And then there are those that let us
escape from work or domestic roles
to find others equally moved. Us souls
aim to improve, so reshape our lives.

Raise technical skills, welcome slaps on
the back for major or minor adjustments.
That piano of light keeps us tapping the
keys to find our flare that will light up the night.

I got my hair cut Wednesday.
Lynne talked as she plied her trade.
A kitten was born on her doorstep-
Strange how the world is made.

Online Lynne read that mother cats
often give birth at your door.
Coincidences abounded.
Does death abound even more?

If mother cats know about doorsteps,
do they know which people to choose?
Is a cradle worth less than a manger?
To save your life must you lose?

Lynne wasn’t supposed to be there.
Her shop was closed that day
That’s a door she never uses.
What drew her so far astray?

Mother cat had chosen most wisely.
No doorstep was better than Lynne’s.
But can one this young survive?
Are babes blotched with original sins?

Extraordinary measures
for extraordinary things are required.
Lynne fed every fifteen minutes.
Loving never makes one tired.

Lynne spent forty eight hours
wrestling with God for this child.
Vets, internets and eye droppers
saved it from the law of the wild.

Hope is the name she gave her.
Hope is what saw her through.
Stronger hour by hour-
Death had been cheated anew.

Now she is sleeping so soundly
with covers snuggled up to her head.
Lynne looks and loves her fondly,
then sees that she is dead.

So I sit and hear this story.
Lynne brings Hope in her tiny box.
The sight of her rips my heart open
Like a raft ruined on ragged rocks.

She finished with my haircut
ignoring all my tears.
Today I sit and write this
with the help of a few beers.

How can this have happened
Is it part of the Master’s plan?
Malt much more than Milton
justifies God’s ways to man.

my apologies to A.E. Houseman and his poem “Terrence This is Stupid Stuff”

again with myself and some music
and i've cut night drinking
to two bottles of cider
that is less than a bottle of wine
and it's not like i brought back
with me to my bedroom to finish off
while writing
having asked the magic mushrooms
eating the brains of magic monkeys
in my vision
i am like the Secular John of the Apocalypse
the Matthew of the Apocalypse
and we should all hope
and somehow even be
the reincarnated twelve
each of us to be born
with the Apocalypse of Jesus
and there should be no John
of the Revelation Inspired
because the movement came too late
or maybe it was only intended
for one man at a time
but if Jesus could be written
from the Canonical Gospels
of which there are Four
and that triggers the Jew in me
to conjure up the Tetragrammaton
and when my neighbor came
the Proselyte the worst kind
apparently the only stink of London
came back
as did the flies and the spiders
and all those things with only birds
and no lizards as predators...
the lizard the inbetween to insect
in patience
and how the mammal perceives
movement in other animals
not their ontology as some ego-integral
of Darwinism which i abhor
with the same disgust as i might
an Englishman concerning National Socialism
the Tyrant on Earth akin to God
the Englishman:
therefore the Continental Question
of England:
can America buy it from itself
like it might buy Greenland from Denmark
and make it the Puerto Rico Cheakoh....
today i spent the day
filling an assessment for work
i started thinking it was the MI5
because i'm not used to this house
and how it runs
when i came back from a month
on Kauai and prior to that
i did half a year a winter and autumn
doing 12h and sometimes 13h night shifts...
when i was working
i witnessed a murderer
walking past me
and it was just an accident
a homocide in McDonald's where someone
like me or someone with a license
to argue: self-defence...
knowing that arts ****** man...
i became lost in a dream of the great night
and now i wake up
on the dot
at 8am and sometimes prior
but i lie in bed with no motivation to live
my life
when i go to bed living the ultimate motivation
for my ghost: my other half...
like Jesus graspling with the medium
of Res Extensa:
and the extended thing encompassing other people
in the hallucination:
for at the Baptism of Jesus
how many people heard the voice of God?
did John and have his head
chopped off:
how many people inquired
about this very spectacular psychosis-osmosis
the wedding of souls
and minds with a presence that became diluted
and multi-faceted...
of the many faces until
the faces become sand no longer
moving but the column of time itself
these pyramidal schemes of christian religiosity
in the same way
the Sensible Muslims just call it Islamism
and that's equivalent to Christian Religiosity
in the context of Heidegger's historiology...
because we are talking about
a Phobia Nights of Arabia
that somehow Islamophobia is equivalent
to how the Ancient Greeks understood
phobia: fear: a funny fear...
a fear of spiders is a funny fear
a fear of open spaces is a funny fear...
then the presence of tonic and water diluted
to 100 x 1 per drop
and glug glug glug down i now have
butter in my mouth:
but truly i have only been eating more Lard...
i've been eating more Lard
because... grr... i'm 'ard...
and the Devil in his garden the mad loon
of the Lonely Lonna
at the National Portrait Gallery, again:
moon of an egg yolk in the cusp of a spoon
slowly dipped into gently frothing milk
in a saucepan...
more water please! i feel dehydrated
and maybe my brain turns
around the thoughts about the birth
of the oyster and the watermelon
and the designer of a woman's ******...
then thought of daughter

    and the use of the internet again...
today i found a new labyrinth
in the progress of the use of AI
that AI is rather like
a Tool to Navigate the Internet With
it's not something
that will steal the jobs of journalists...
no.. idiots...
like the scenario of my father bringing
a newspaper home
and reading an article about
how long it might take to book a driving license
test and apparently a back log of
6 months... archive... the times...

when using an algorithm
and searching for a newspaper article
type in:
archive the times article bots and driving license
ARCHIVE is the biggest
<prompt
word                 to sharpen algorithm use
to a specific search
rather than a general search...

archiving the internet: the article is on the internet
and i have Events Seasoning coming up
and i will not miss doing Wimbledon
but i also have contacts for Glastonbury
and where to lodge someone in between
this new found time and how
it seems wasted
when the day comes and the acid parasites
of the dying star come
with all the people of the zombie flesh
the sting of irrational and unfathomable ***
that makes the Grievious Envy
of Islam the Harem of Solomon...
then who is even historically viable to be converted
on the altar of awe
maybe the Korean King who invented
how Korean is written:
and it's not like he might be a European
and "discovered" Latin but instead
will be said: that it was a writing plagiarism
because the numbers are argued
by the Arabs, mostly, not really Hindus...
just arabs... how we owe the Arabs
numbers yet have Letters and Mirror...
but the water is grand
a sobering shower before bed
like i will not **** or **** out poison in
the body in the morning
me being Lactose Intolerant is
Edie's psy-op *******
i'm starting to feel that
but more importantly
i will flush it down the toilet
the 2x bottles of cider and a little sprinkle sprinkle
i will **** it out before i go to bed
but prior it was the telephone
and the internet
and now free **** and no taboo of buying
a magazine
there is nothing like that
just a world war I analogy to the fields
of Belgium now with walking bodies
but rotten to death minds
minds without closure
closed off in paradisum carpe diem
the paradise of the seized day...
just thoughts now of what to eat
and how important 8am is
and how it can be best emulated
and how it is all very different
when you think about writing seriously...

but there was this one poem
i found
blasted into allpoetry.com
   via data annotation

i got stuck for 7 hours
on the first question
and the entire screening questionnaire
was only intended for
1h... i couldn't get past
the question for 7 ******* hours....
i was working on it constantly...

a poem by "sjeevanantham"
is actually a data annotation marker...
i don't know what the marker implies
but if someone who dabbles
in data annotation will tell you:
someone without a poetic flare
who works with writing poetry
then it is no wonder
i spooked out
on the first question
and i do feel like if i have worked
and this is my sort of evening
shift
and i think about going to bed
at 12am and waking at 7am
and not sitting in some godforsaken
hut on a construction site
because the only people breaking in
were foxes and rats
now the night shift will truly be busy if there
are workers there and they leave their
equipment on site...
but still... that can't be the same rate
as the day shift...
or at least have a rotation of three shifts...
or two people on site
so that one and the other wake the other one up
it's impossible to stay awake at night
i feel asleep, truly,
only once...
oh i did fall asleep more times than that
but i only feel asleep once, truly: only once:
because i was only once:
caught alseep... the culprit...
ergo when i wasn't there was no need
for me to be awake
but regardless
even at this mail sorting office
the night shifts are rewarded by about $3
and that's sorta of petty squabbling enough
because it justifies the hierarchy of labour
while keeping the disparity of working
hours healthy within understanding human
health and psychology...
but a work where the night shift doesn't pay
a proportionate way more?
is not an honest sharing of labour...
which i understand is... but really isn't...
this isn't a socialist mind thinking:
as much as merit where merit is due:
there should be a minimal divident
of the same work
during daytime hours
and the same work
during night-time hours...
shouldn't the night worker be paid
slightly more...
      simply because he is making
incremental damages to his psyche
and body
by not living in a natural environment?
i.e. not sleeping at night?
it is one thing to not sleep
when you go out partying
and drinking
and sleeping a one off day
but a bit different when you'd stay up all night
watch movies
become known to the genius design
of IDLE GAMING
IDLE GAMING is a big thing
when you're alone and on the brink
of madness...
in those 12 / 13h hour shifts
and sometimes having done a day shifts
went out and did a dayshift and was out on my feet
for more of centipede sensation...
by 11pm
i am good with my catholic murmurs of prayers
before bedtime
and not in some heat of the moment...
but when she switches on that game
i get the same dopamine brain freeze
and i'm stuck in a loop
and **** is just the cherry on top
but the mindless distractions that have
emerged
i don't suppose the AI can be more
than a nagivating tool of the internet
by right an extension of the internet...
to compensate for example the emergence
of two internets
that could have been otherwise
no Deep Web
no criminal activity as such
but the Internet of Infrastructure
like Logistics, Shopping, Banking...
that hard internet
and then the soft internet
that could be better moderated
with i know the English don't like
the idea of a Passport and Driving License
and a Third ID... a Personal ID
a Citizens' ID...
but aren't we already in the process
of having one that
isn't mandated by the State
but the Globalist Appeal of Corporations
and the subsequent Hell of a Democracy
because that is the internet
and this is not a conspiracy
but by term: Social Media Profile:
that is an infringement of one's personal space
if that Third ID wasn't already
there
but it's not just a plastic:
it's your own Minority Report...
                    of past deeds and future predictors
and i'm sorry but the stomach is grumbling
and there's no poem about sandwitches
although
if there was an alternative reality i do actually
simply envision a better version of the internet...
a more coherent version
an a posteriori version with all the days
to analytical... oh jeez... my basic Kant...
SYNTHETIC...

          because like cities this is a new ending
project
like reading a newspaper
the opinion section
and getting TRIGGERED
little INSULTED
when a female "journalist" probably
in her 20s
got a column at the Time
for writing **** about the Baker Boy hat
and why Kate this
i'm not defending Kate, "queen"
but i was literally triggered
by that i was going to scream: i need my safespace!
i need my safespace of no one
insulting the baker boy cap!
i need my safe-space!

             this at the same time of someone doing
actual journalism
in the pages before
and it's as if newspapers are supposed
to be these bi-****** institutions
i figured the only safe-space men have
where women are not invited
or partake much in it
is the Club of the Men who Read Newspapers...
because women don't read newspapers
women read books
and not philosophy books:
or at least philosophy books with one hand
as the famous saying goes
about the Marquis de Sade's Uncle's Library,
a Priest of sort...
but women don't read newspapers
they're rather watch the news
or at least the Press Secretary Speeches
to the White House...
   while someone might cannibalise the babble
of a day of a month of a year
for almost a week
and getting to the part about
what's showing in cinema on t.v.
i get to remember two movies too late
one of them being Oldboy
and another a movie about autopsy with
Brian ***... i think...
but we were watching Oldboy
and the movie was cut short about 20min before
the end
and... well            d'ugh... cosmic warfare
and joke fanare...
that's still Islamism and Christian Religiosity
and looking
for the word funny combined with the Greek
phobia...