it's vaguely odd, to make this kind
of observation,
but have you ever squinted your
eye (with the other closed)
when looking at the moon?
well, with the sun, when you squint
your eye in a similar fashion,
your eyelashes almost seem to turn
to water, if not tears,
they become soaked in light,
that almost resembles water tricklets...
but with the moon?
ah, bountiful luna
(in other languages,
the moon is male, the sun, female,
but in english, it's the other way
round);
it is only a day since a full moon,
and i'm drinking my ***
and feeling "bored",
so i turn my attention to
the moon, a day shy from fullness...
and you know?
squinting my eye, i see a fraction
of the sum of the orb,
and as i do, a distinct ray of light
enters my body, just
above the eye, the forehead;
my eye still has the orb intact,
but there's a distinct ray of light
heading into the area just above
my eye...
as if: illuminating,
or clarifying...
hocus pocus sort of dynamic
this observation has managed
to produce, but it's there,
when you squint your eye when
looking at the moon,
a direct beam of light enters via
your forehead,
it doesn't travel directly into your
eye,
rather, just above it...
a licking aspect of a
better-late-than-never "bend".
just an innocent observation,
and furthermore,
you tilt your head from side to side,
the same beam of light moves
with your observant eye...
i find it fascinating,
how much of science is depicted by
only the dynamic of polyphemus
(the cyclops) -
now, in islamic myths
this cyclops, the dajjal is one-eyed,
hence islam will clearly
testify that western science is...
metaphorically speaking: the dajjal.
i'm not so sure,
i already identified the dajjal
from the hadiths...
muhammad spoke of the
east... given a compass...
what's east of mecca?
riyadh...
and when he said: he will be the scourge
upon the earth,
he didn't imply a poor person...
and he said his right eye would
be bulging, like a grape...
and he would be the worst curse
to befall a nation...
looks to me, that saudi arabia
is becoming more and more
decadent, isolated,
enigmatic even, why?
it's ashamed of the youth
it has produced, it's: petrified!
who is this "enigmatic" dajjal?
ibn-saud...
ibn-jabba-the-arab more like...
******* arab diabetics:
no no, alcohol is haram!
sugar iz good! hav' a baklava!
go **** yourself, give me
a sand-timer you *******
camel jockey.
there was once a "thing" called
the iron, curtain...
seems to me, we're living in times
of the sand, curtain...
i really don't want to think
about the *****-whipping ***-cracks
of men living in these sand-dune
cities that: resemble the most pristine
apocalyptic visions of:
FAIL!
ah, don't bother, start building
these babylon-esque towers on
antarctica... then you can pet some
penguins while you're at it!
come on, you can't have any other
animal in tux serving drinks...
a cheetah in tux? what are you
talking about?
see, the english didn't pick up
on this, no one i know, or don't know
has spoken about the isolationism
of saudi arabia...
lawrence of arabia is long gone
along with the: "evil" turk...
great biography too...
but the sand curtain is there...
there's nothing special happening
under it... it's like a babushka doll,
but whenever you open one up after another,
the niqab is still there...
i wish the russian thought
up an islamic babushka doll...
**** it: let's start with a burqa,
then a niqab... nearing the end we get
a thong and then the garden of eden *****...
i don't have the money to make this:
go ahead, like my idea, made a babushka
doll like that: you'll be... minted!
yeah i know, i'm sometimes like
a forrest gump, i like ping-pong and
i play-along with being innocently dumb...
i was born with the idea of money
as being nothing more than a comparison
to counting pebbles,
given that western "intellectuals"
bark against prostitutes...
i've given myself to sparingly
whiff off a few grand, here & there,
because...
if ****'s not broken,
why buy a replacement?
saudi arabia is, though, playing an
isolationist game for reasons you might
not suspect...
hence the hadith quote,
hence the sand curtain:
the older generations are ashamed
of the offspring they produced,
and their european slavic ***** *** ******...
that's good, i don't mind jerking
off... i can focus on my drinking...
and yes, i've been to prostitutes,
and every time i get a kiss and she says:
no no no, it's against the rules,
but i still do, and get that girly
wish i was 16 giggle... well...
grease me another frying pan:
i'm about to make a killer curry;
alter-ego talk...
matta al-britanni?
got sent to the wrong place,
overshot the ******, sent him to goa,
to cook curries for white tourists...
seems pretty happy to me...
better not tell him he's not supposed
to be there... like any ******:
happy when being given a newspaper
to rip in nicely folded rectangles:
i knew one robbie... no pair of scissors
could beat him:
as they say - 'ere by v'ah grease of good:
rubby rubby, chubby chubby,
and out pops a screaming plum's head
mmm' ha ha:
rubby rubby, chubby chubby,
that's a good 'un, dash ah keepour:
talk to an amsterdam prozzie,
she'll tell you the linguo choke,
i mean: joke.
- where was i?
oh, my, god! you know when you write
something, and keep writing something,
and you're like: girlfriend, you're gonna
blush...
and it hits you, and it's, like: amnesia?
it's called the cut-up flux technique,
well, it's hardly a technique,
it's not the cabaret voltaire scene
to be honest...
you don't think up a plot,
the plot thinks up itself,
you... move along, you... move along,
but amnesia is a great technique
to focus on...
god, sometimes i wish
i was yoda japanese:
squint the eye, you will,
moon, apparent be seen,
beam of light
hit your forehead, it will.
and that's all it was going to be...
but obviously the european ramble had to take
place, and involve much more,
than the recipe for ink had in store
for me, with the already twice mentioned
observation;
bad luck, hopefully better, next time.
