psiór vs.
                        pśιór "debate".

every area of interests has its cul de sac,
its brick-wall, a dead-end as it were,
a point where transcendence is
welcomed, unavoidable,
but nonetheless: miserable stalled.

philosophers have the cartesian
   cogito ergo sum -
whatever arithmetic of wording
they produce, not even samson
could topple this pillar of foundation
for the temple of thought.

the same is with my example...
it would appear that the diacritical
**** ι with a floating head i
did not translate further, beyond
the same treatment of yot (j) -
(gee a jeep! yodh: serif (י) and
rashi (

yet by oath alone, hebrew orthography
invokes itself in letters...
unlike the post-roman orthography
of words...

                   ι    י      
                      Y         (    .    )
                      ي

                            ­        floating alongside
e...
         if only the greek sigma
   had the tetragrammaton of the arabic "ι" -
the initial σ (يـ‎) & the final ς (ـي) are
indeed there, but what of the isolated
(ي‎) & the medial (ـيـ‎) - unless of course
of course we treat to invoke the
upper-case: Σ - such as is missing in arabic,
and is only a question of: how much
the prolonged line?

p.s.

   why would i ever like the evolution
of gaming?
  well... teenage boy, "trapped",
by a video game,
what were my usual saturday mornings?
strapped to an PS1....
tenchu, metal gear solid...
       i am a gamer,
like most people are readers
on the *******...
      i'm here to play a game,
with indefinite time constraints,
as i am concerned about
  massaging my ****,
to ease my prostate concerns...
wankers.

          i'm still going to listen
to byzantine chants...
    because? modern gaming,
well, sure,
   it's, "free"...
but there are in-built
           payment processors...
additions, etc.,

   like me and my maine ****
cat,
      6 candles....
i know he wants to "escape"
via an open window,
but before he can "escape"
(i will let him put)...
he has to play a blinking
game with him,
i squirm, i close my eyes,
he does likewise...
  the candles are still lit...

but gaming has evolved...
"once upon a time"
you'd run into a games shop,
tongue waggling...
for the next big release...

      i know... i know...
war robots...
           that mobile game...
2 lame 2 blame...
that's my user name...
i haven't spent a dime / cent /
penny on this game...

what i do like,
is playing the game with
a...  ah! - - - - - - - - - -

but times have changed,
it was no longer about RPG games
akin to final fantasy VII,
and cheat books...

or playing Sims 3000 finding
the escape wormhole
of playing a Sim playing
a computer game: inside a computer
game...
            
when you bought a game for
$50 bucks...
and was never told:
it's "free"...
but then have to invest in
******* overpriced additions...

- - - - - - - - - handicap!
        i like war robots,
because?
       i like playing with a handicap!
the people who spend money?
mostly Koreans, Russians,
Kazakhs... H'americans,
Brazilians...
            you know,
what really evolved in gaming?
the chance to play in a non-NPC
environment...
   to play alongside live gamers...

that **** broke the ******* camels
****, sack, and *******...
last time i checked...
women were more into gaming
than the men were:
candy cwash saga...
   men fathomed gaming
via the narrative component...
but what of this additional
payments?!
in the good old days:
you paid 20 quid, you had your narrative...
now, "fwee"... but,
no wait... there are... additional
payments, you see?

i like playing a game,
handicapped...
in a free game environment...
when, your prized asset
is patience?
and all the rich arabs / russians
are spending money,

   and you, simply, wait...
and perfect your tactics?!
while they are buying up all
the "cheat codes"?
        sure... they'll serve the purpose
of staging 4000 battles...
you, eh... around 300+...
but their % rate?
      6... they have a 6% rate of success...
with 4000 or so battles...
while you?
           300+ battles?
roughly in the range of
60 - 50% success rate...
        gaming, has changed,
games were never "free",
as they are "free" now...
        
   hell, i'm not a gamer to be honest...
some people treat taking a ****
as the only time required to read
a book, i treat the same "timed" allowance
to play a game...

                 my mother is a gamer,
we've reached a moment in history where
women will play more mobile games
than ever boys would play,
video, narrative games...

          my mother is a gamer,
that's just eerie...
                   i have a second game
in tow....
   a blinking game with my maine ****
cat, surrounded by 6 candles...
oh he has the garden for the worth of
night...

but gaming has changed...
    i like the handicap dynamics of
war robots...
       like **** will i spend any money
on the game...
  i want to play against
the paying russians, chinese, arabs
and kazakhs....

          ******* - my favourite mode...
team work...
every single time i leave
my rogatka to jump and sprint
capturing beacons
when the battle is almost over...

thank **** i just bypassed
the evolution of PS1 into PS2 and PS3
and whatever else came...
     i missed about 10+ years of
gaming...
   and i hit the beehive jukebox...
of games without NPC characters...

i revised gaming at the right time,
when NPC disppeared,
completely,
and gaming became revised
by the internet live-event
game-membership.

The golden rays of the sun fell upon my cheek like a bliss in the partial twilight of the dawn. I was wearily lying on my bed, thinking about the limitless sky and the universe. For more than 5 minutes I continued lying there, pondering aimlessly. It was 6 am in the morning and I didn’t know what thoughts had disturbed my sleep. I got up from my bed then and walked straight into the bathroom to brush my teeth, but watching the running water from my tap, I was lost again! I was gazing through the diminishing transparency of my visage that was being reflected on those tiny droplets of water. “How beautiful!” I murmured but then woke up with a start after I realized the amount of water that I had wasted.
I seemed to be traumatized and lost for no good reason. I was never like that before. Never did I even pay attention to the minutest detail. What was so wrong with me that day?  "Is it because something horrendous is awaiting me?" "It’s all in the mind. Stop being so negative." I reiterated to myself. Despite the weather being so pleasant outside there was always a dull spot in my heart that day which initiated negativity and terror. To drive away those crazy thoughts I decided to write some poetry. I was looking for a way to reinvigorate my imagination in quick bursts of flash fiction which I considered to be my expertise. But even before I wrote a word, like a storm someone rushed through and pounced on my shoulders from behind, hugging me firmly.” Heyyyy!” she yelled with enthusiasm. The hug was warm and familiar. I did not even take a minute to recognise her. It my best friend- Rashi. “I have got two surprises for you today. The first one is, that we are going on a one-day trek! Look, it’s such a wonderful day outside and you are simply rotting here to write your melancholic poetries. Come on, what are you waiting for? Wind up all this mess and get ready quickly!” she said with excitement.” Oh, come on! This is insane.” I exasperated. “Don’t you worry about this at all. I have already dealt things with both of our moms. So, shake a leg now! We have got a bus to catch” she assured me. I tried to glare at her out of frustration and anger with those tiny squeezed eyes but that big wide smile on the lower bottom of my face clearly manifested how convinced I was. I packed my bag as soon as possible and we both headed towards the bus stand. Our bus journey was a short one and we spend those forty-five minutes gossiping and backbiting about those nasty folks in school. A typical BFF conversation, isn’t it?
“Okay, I know that you get tired soon but trust me, it is completely worth the wait.” she spoke abruptly.” The highest point out there is so beautiful, serene and peaceful that you will never regret doing this with me. We might even scream our lungs out there and hear our own echoes on the top. Wonderful, isn’t it?” she continued. I nodded back exuberantly.  As soon as we got off the bus, a cool breeze of air blew past me. I was shuddering with cold but couldn’t help noticing the natural beauty surrounding me. It was so mesmerising and enchanting. I could hear the tranquil voice of the crickets singing with the sound of the rippling water and feel the high-spirited flow of the river. The lush green pastures were embracing the endurance of those hard working farmers and the meadows were filled with strikingly vibrant colours of those beautiful flowers. I was so intrigued in having deep conversations with rashi and also observing the beauty of nature around me, that within a spur of a moment, we reached the hill top.
No sooner did I  reach the hill top than I threw myself on the stack of hay out of exhaustion. While rashi proceeded forward and cried out loud, “rashiii, milonii”, her voice echoed throughout. Hearing that gave me immense pleasure. “the best day of my life,” I screamed back..” oh yes mine too! The second surprise is still waiting for ya though!” she tried to tease me. I got up from the stalk of hay and ran towards her. Pulling her ponytail tightly I said” are you telling me or not?” “alright alright. Lets settle down first. I loosely gripped her ponytail although didn’t let her run from my clutches until we settled down.
There was absolute silence for a while and we both were lost into the remarkable creation of god. Suddenly ,she touched my hand and held it tight. Looking towards my face she gave me a slight smile. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Her face abruptly turned completely red as if she had been holding back her miseries all this while. A drop of tear trickled down her cheek  and pointing towards her forehead, she said,” they say, there is a tumour in here”.” They say I  have only got a year more to survive” “they say it’s the it’s the last stage of  cancer and we cant really do anything” for a moment I was zapped. I seemed to be unaware of all the happenings around me. Rashis words were echoing in my head. I couldn’t resist holding back my tears. I hugged her and burst into tears.”what are you saying rashi.. I really don’t understand anything” I said. Neither do I she replied.. all I know is that I just have a year left with me now. Noo! I weeped in misery..i wont let u go..why are u doing this to me
Heyy u have to be strong come on..
You know I could sense something devastating happening to me today. What am I going to do without u rashi.
This is life my dear friend … cruel, dark and full of miseries but we gotaa know how to make our masterpiece on this black canvas. Only then will u succeed.
Is there really no cure to this? I asked shakingly
We don’t need to cure cancer. We need to feed it with happiness love and a thousands of cherishable memories only then we can defeat it, for eternity!

the following disambiguation debate,
relegating orthography toward the status of
"diacritical" aesthetic -
    and diacritic use, per se:

psiór vs.
                       pśιór debate;

the word in bold just denotes: a dog.

we all know that there are two letters
in the english language, that have been
***** diacritically - name iota:
for j is usually confused with y,
in that piquant sense of differentiation:
yap *** - yapping - jaw mongering?
          
every area of interests has its cul de sac,
its brick-wall, a dead-end as it were,
a point where transcendence is
welcomed, unavoidable,
but nonetheless: miserably stalled.

philosophers have the cartesian
   *cogito ergo sum -
whatever arithmetic of wording
they produce, not even samson
could topple this pillar of foundation
for the temple of thought.

the same is with my example...
it would appear that the diacritical
**** of ι with a floating head i
did not translate further, beyond
the same treatment of yot (j) -
gee a jeep! yodh: serif (י) and
rashi -

yet by oath alone, hebrew orthography
invokes itself in letters...
unlike the post-roman orthography
of words... the "compass"

                   ι    י      
                      Y         (    .    )
                      ي

                            ­        floating alongside
e...

         if only the greek sigma
   had the tetragrammaton of the arabic "ι" -
the initial σ (يـ‎) & the final ς (ـي) are
indeed there, but what of the isolated
(ي‎) & the medial (ـيـ‎)?  
             unless of course
                        we treat to invoke the
upper-case: Σ - such as is missing in arabic,
and is only a question of: how much
the prolonged line?

   it still begs the question,
if the element of diacritical use is lost
upon the iota...
                   can there be an orthographic
"beauty is in the eye of the beholder"
change in the aesthetic of applicable
diacritical markings?

  the debate is rather simple:

  either decapitate the unnecessary head off
the iota: or keep it,

        psiór        vs.
                               ­           pśιór

because it within the eye of the beholder
at this point...
           it's not that hard to confuse
J with Y, and give rise to the christian endeavour:
son before the father, father within the son,
and the congregating, willing to enforce
   a fake billion, unlike the tight-knit chinese...

you do the math... a billion, but at what expense /
expanse of territory?
                      look where the true billionth is:
a tiny land area by comparison...
  you **** the letter iota:
and then morph a yod into a J,
while engaging in ancient mutational
permutations of "radioactive" goo,
i.e. γΥ -
                       yeah yeah yeah,
  vs. rastafarian jah jah, jah... wait for it:
oh **** me: ha ha!
    
in english, the philosophical cul de sac
is the missing diacritical markings...
  english, without diacritical invitation:
has, absolutely, no, concept, of, orthography...

sure... that's why its hell-bent on metaphysics,
esp. populist metaphysics akin to
the matrix trinity of movies:
              they always jump to the conclusions
concerning the nature of "reality"...
  which you can understand,
given that they have no idea within
the confines of considering orthography...
it's alien to them...
     **** knows what the para- prefix could
show us...
                        ok ok... we already know
the joke by alfred jarry in
the exploits of dr. faustrool -
with his "witty" invention of
                 pataphysics -
                i swear this french dwarf inveted
the spaghetti (string) theory with
that mutation of the prefix ascribed locality
on the beneze ring, i.e. how para- became pata-.
whatever...
  
but without a concept of diacritical
appropriation,
   you are only left with an endeavour into
into metaphysics...
   and never minding the mediating
dogma / fancy of orthography...
                        
     oh well... that's the english language for you...

god i love being a pompous *******,
who knows english better than the natives;
not that i have an elevated sense of worth
because of this,
  only that i appreciate the sense
of devaluing the origins of: said speech:
as if to take out a whip,
    and whip the lazy *******
                       on into the slaughterhouse!

Come get up!
Take out your winter wary wool.
Hark! the charming chimes of churns
Rolling red rays reaching
to raise your rugs!
See! Makara Sankranthi has come!
Jump out.
Just embrace the warm welcome sandal pasted red rays
The Indian ways,
receive the joys
gay to say a Hi!
The sun Himself has got up early!
To flag off this  Bhogi, Maggie
Suggi,
mithila, uttarayana,
Engall (our)
Thai pongal!
Let's basket dance with our neighbors
Ohm shanthrimantra chanting welcome Shri Makara Rashi
Wish you all Happiness
Om Suryaye namaha!
Om Mitraya namaha!
On Bhaskarsya namaha!
Om Adityaya namaha!
Oh Helios,(source of energy), Not me!
Oh Apollo... Not me!
Om Shanthi! peace! peace
To all...

the **** are you talking about? i just came from there, you want me to go back, to tell you something new? (a) you weren't born under the iron curtain, and (b) you didn't live beneath it! + (c) you probably don't know many people who lived through, having been born in 1939! and yes, communist hoarded ****... you think they were all moby-esque: vegan feng shui minimalists?! barking up the wrong tree, no squirrels up there, just a ******* baboon.

i've said it once, and i'll say it again:
   the system *works -
it's a fail-safe mechanism of a worn-torn
country... that's why i don't argue
against capitalism,
but capitalism doesn't rebuild nations,
it can't:
   sometimes people have to huddle
and become "buddhists": selfless collectivists!
it's obviously transitionally orientated,
got that lead from syria,
    why do people turn all humanitarian
giving our free loafs of bread to children?
it's not supposed to be a permanent
system, for one thing:
   there is clearly an expiry date
on the packaged communist implementations...
i really do not understand western leftism...
just flew past me above my head:
giving me a haircut while it flew past...
can't say i agree...
  but then again, mullets were a thing in the 80s
with the metal scene...
   so no, you don't know veterans of the communist
idea implemented: snotty audacious *******...
not everyone required the athenian semi-detached
castle back, too much personal grief,
relatives lost, what not... communism is
spartan... but in the end, even hoarding was
allowed... notably? books... like i said,
i think i out-competed the size of a private
library compared with my grandfather...
   but i love his honesty:
  i haven't read much of these books -
odd, i own a library that i'd say i managed
to digest in the fraction of:   6.5 / 10... o.k. 7 / 10...
you can't exactly read an art book...
    or a book on b & w photography...
oh look! pretty pictures.
           dim wits, so why is it that there was this
massive fascination, under the iron curtain,
on a local small gov. level in a rainbow of sports?
everything worth citing the olympics was
taken to, it wasn't just the gulag of football,
              problem with body image?
just watch the olympics, even fat people wrestle
and lift weights... and ping-pong?
  test of reflexes...
                  how about ski-jumping?
      or szermierka? what's that? fencing,
what was pretty pop back then;
         and at least there was a celebration of manual
labour... these days?
    a real phobia - aspiring to the status of gods
we've crafted a problem...
        work is not celebrated, it's shunned -
nothing to do, and a poor inspection of being
leaves us with aspiring to be much:
   while at the same time - doing too little;
yes, i cheated the plagiarism algorithm / bot,
whatever, when writing a sociology essay at
edinburgh... i plagiarised!
   guess what, back then, in 2003 / 4 i.t. didn't
discover the cheat code: a ******* thesaurus...
so i took an essay written by an academic,
and just rearranged it, reworded, deconstructed
it, and? got a 1st.
  top notch stuff, i was never into sociology
in the first place, i just wanted to find out if i could
outsmart a computer system that was
designed to "see" whether a plagiarism was made...
kimovich kasparov would've been proud...
well, that's history,
    what else was there to say?
  ah... aphorism vii ponderings vi...
        i started taking notes...
   atheism presupposes the non-existence of god...
fair enough, but as a presupposition it's
adamant, stern, and always "seemingly" right,
if not angry, then just plain ridiculous -
     i'm a wolf that finds mauling these sheep
that gesticulate with both palms, knees and other
assortments... that's called a punch below
the belt in boxing...
     is it so hard to attack st. augustine, pascal,
or thomas aquinas, let alone maimonides,
rashi or nachmanides?
     come on... making a ridicule-centered argument
is doesn't deserve respect:
   for every ounce of ridicule - there's an ounce
of disrespect...
  theism merely supposes the existence of -
since the "law" states that
    a supposition cannot be related to a negative
expression of non-existence "of"..
while the atheistic presupposition cannot be
related to a positive expression the existence "of"...
(the inverted commas on a trivial word
like of? so i stop short of implying god, mmm'k?)
these opposites seem to be strangely
anti-chemical in relation to the mirror of chirality -
for some reason they are super-imposable...
they compliment each other,
primarily? the show must go one,
         neither side rests, and finalises itself...
why? well, if atheism is based upon presuppositonal
logic, and theism is based upon a suppositional
logic... then evidently they both share
the no-man's land of propositions...
     oddly enough the "non"-existence "of" argument
loves to be pro the suppositional circumstance...
now i know why kant focused on meditating
5 + 7 = 12...
               like a hebrew might burn the tetragrammaton
into his mind...
     it means? to ensure the rigidity of sentences,
to burn into his mind a clarifying ingredient -
that all sentences make: sense,
   with the basic arithmetic being the benchmark
for all subsequent endeavours into scribbling
down the critique: makes sense.
   now to come to think of it,
i'm purposively digressing paying attention
to heidegger's (vii, vi) -
       i just want to keep it to myself -
i might as well write it out verbatim, than try
to explain it...
  and subsequently write several other cohort
"paragraphs" stimulated by the content,
than attempt the dry martini of explaining what
he "meant"; because: he meant this.

i remember my grandfather
white beard 'n saintly,
soft of countenance,
smiling faintly

his grandpa passed early,
he, an unborn babe -
but his grandfather saw his,
Grand Rebbe of Ropshits.

So goes back a chain,
passing years, time immemorial
Rashi, from Rabbi o' Mainz
from line of Judaic kings' inaugural
Up Time's jugular veins
to royalty, King David's arboreal

So, surely, will come a time
generations hence'll form a line
of men and women so sublime
and i amongst them?

It gives me fright,
makes me ponder
i have no right
to stand, to maunder,
'mongst such august
gold stardust,
a link betwixt
new souls untold
and G-d-transfixed
prophets of old

and yet, as scion,
i'm more than a tie
between earlier aeon
of angels on high

of great lions
attached to the Sky
giants of Zion
who rode on high

and offspring hence
of future ages
babes of innocence
and learned sages

i am to serve
as loyal transmitter
a royal nerve
of heavenly glitter

when i get older
i will have a small flat
on Rashi pinat Chernichovsky,
with a ******* dog
in a red bandanna,
named Sabaka.
on hot August nights
we will walk to the beach,
i will watch the waves
and Sabaka will watch me,
smiling.

Or may be
I will buy a house in Ein Hod
With a stone fence
And a forged gate
And neglected garden.
I will feed four cats
Three mine and one
That always refuses to come in.
I will water my two roses
One red one white of course.
And take aimless walks
Every morning.

in October and January
i will scavenge through the little shops
for peculiar things
that i will bring
to faraway countries
where i'm needed.

and in March and September
i will take a taxi to the airport
to hug that special person
i will be listening to
and talking to
over a cup of coffee
that will last a week.

but the rest of the year
is silence.