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JDH Jun 2017
Some introductory food for thought...

"Manufacturing and commercial monopolies owe their origin not to a tendency imminent in a capitalist economy but to governmental interventionist policy directed against free trade and laissez faire."
  - Ludwig Von Mises

"Bureaucracies are inherently antidemocratic. Bureaucrats derive their power from their position in the structure, not from their relations with the people they are supposed to serve. The people are not masters of the bureaucracy, but its clients."
  - Alan Keyes


The European Union as the New Eastern Bloc?
The Eastern Trading Bloc of the Soviet system had it's origins in the tail end of the Second World war, where, through the suppression of the whereabouts of Kremlin manipulation, had purported itself as democratic agreement, initially giving itself the appearance of a 'bourgeois democracy' as the Soviets called it. Though, inherently was, and clearly became an imperial establishment of control from the Soviet Bureaucracy. Likewise, the European Union, when originally advertised to the nations of Europe was propped up in a similarly unassuming manner, despite having been previously discussed and having the concepts of such a union already organised further back into 1948 at the Hague Conference. The parallels of such such unions (Eastern/Euro) are that they garnered the consent of the public through their foundation being merely upon an economic transnational policy, and not a political one, and therefor their basic parallels are that of deceit.

The Eastern Bloc formed what was essentially a symbiosis of the state and the economy, something that naturally would be inherent under a Communist regime. However, the European Union, too, follows a similar reciprocal foundation, for it binds the state and economy, removing the separation of powers by Capitalistic enterprise, and instead, Centralises governance in a more oligarchical, corporate and bureaucratic apparatus. Operating through a complex arrangement of multitudinous committees and boards, whose members form a body of non-elected representatives. Essentially the European Union, on the guise of an economic market, has formed a centralised, quasi-private parliament akin to the Soviet style hegemony of the Eastern Bloc, and through soft-intimidation and misinformation, keeps it's members bonded. Lest it be forgotten that the Union is allegedly one of 'free trade', yet, when discourse begins to brew of leaving, as it did in Britain, why are we met with threats of economic disability and ostracization? That shows more the signs of a protection racket; of bureaucratic gangsterism, than it does of a voluntary cooperation of national markets.


The unification of Germany and the amalgamation of the European continent?
In a more predictive sense, the European Union shares similarities in it's unifying policies, as it it does to the unification of the German states circa 1871. Spearheaded during the Bismarckian era of the late nineteenth century, Germany, well within a period of two decades transformed from a collection of trading states, to a fully amalgamated nation under Prussian dominated rule, but by what means did this occur, and in what ways does the unification of Germany share similarities to modern Europe?

Of course, the chief processes of German unification lied in the economy, the political structure and culture, the political structure I have already covered. The establishment of a newly amalgamated economy among the German States was created through the breaking down of trade barriers between the previously independent states, one of which ways in doing so was the introduction of the single German currency (the Mark) along with a centralised banking system that allowed for both monetary control by the state and the removal of currency exchange between regions. Likewise the European Union brought with it the introduction of a common European currency (the Euro) and too, a European Central Bank. The new Germany also extended its unification to the creation of a common German culture that evoked a sense of nationalism, for instance, the establishment of a new national anthem and German military, to be paraded with pride. Too, the standardisation of the school system to create a state of coherent socialisation among the German generations. What we see with the European Union is also the creation of a common European national anthem and a cooperative European military (though a centralised European military is still developing) and through policies such as the Bolonga Process, the education system of Europe as a whole has been standardised to the specific image of the European Union, even a single European emergency number (112) is under proposition.

It is said that history repeats itself, and perhaps what we are living through today is the amalgamation of the European states as transpired nearly 150 years ago within central Europe. And that the non-representative, self appointing parliament of the European Union, resembles almost a kind of bureaucratic Kaiserreich; a kind of Prussian hegemony of the modern day.


- a short essay by JDH
Barton D Smock Jan 2014
you arrive early to the unpopulated town hoping you might rehearse without interruption the part you plan to audition for.  you spend most of your time in a high school locker room looking for a ball.  your one skill was recently revealed at the forefront of an evacuation spearheaded by your brother after which you were able to convince both the man in the attic and the man in the basement that they were together hallucinations seen by a mirror.  to the lord you don’t seem a day over yesterday.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
i woke up with a fever... obviously i was drinking heavily last night... i was thinking about Caroline Aherne... from the Royle Family... that sit-com that's unlike any soap-opera and the instigator for the current channel 4 google... goggle-box... trash... i'm ******* feverish... i need to sweat some of this alcohol out... i have glue-eyes... things look fuzzy... or, rather... glued together too much... but i woke up and just remembered those Somali beauties on my last shift... how nervous they looked... licking their lips... i was just thinking: ****, ****... ****... like most Muslim didn't think  having a blast in Cologne... in Rotherham... i'm pretty open to foreign cuisine... i'll eat anything that doesn't move... like i'll **** anything that does... ****... did i message Khedra last night? i must have... like my current fetish for ginger haired women... freckles no freckles... whatever... i'm still "coy" when it comes to ol' raven Caucasian hair... well... Turk or Mongol? they're one and the same... but i woke up with a dream... a 2nd Islamic implosion... a second schism... spearheaded by the Turks... like the first one was spearheaded by the proud Persians because they were like: no ******* camel-jockey... no sand-****** is going to dictate to us... i swear i borrowed those slang terms from a Sri Lankan... honest to god... or allah: in Maltese... but i woke up... remembered that a ******* was inquiring about me... babe... i'm just not longing... i've had a ginger spell put over me... give me a few days... i'll exercise like mad... drink more white wine... let me just get ***** a little... i don't want to come to you with a limp: whimp of a whittle 'ichard... right... now i know what this fever was about... western culture... a load of *******... the Islamic attire for women... the niqab... the suppossed oppression of women... OR... excatly... OR... the salvaging of the male libido... seriously... why would i want to desire what's left plainly in the open... readily avaliable... why would i want to put up with so much *******: tease?! cucks-galore... i switch off... put on a pair of sunglasses: the night's too bright... i see the logic now... just now... oh no no... i'm not akin to the western narrative... at best i'm a subverter... i just can't follow the narrative that: men's fault... for not getting a hard-on... pop some pills because... that's what women did back in the day of being liberated by dropping those anti-contraceptive pills... no... no ******* MEA CULPA... no! i'm always just ******* dandy with prostitutes... and... randomly... a Thai girl... a black girl... after enough suspense and alcohol for both of us... white girls have become Victorian-times Irish nuns for some of us... i literally don't think they're Madonnas... ****** up girls: sure... but holy? you have to be kidding me... i'm actually kidding myself... but the niqb actually makes sense... personally? in my Islam... those niqabs would be white... if there is to be a second schism in Islam... they would be white... or linen prone... a material that would allow some breathing room... but it truly is a salvaging of the male libido... i mean: except for perverts and all the other outliers... men can quickly switch off... from any ****** activity once they reach a certain age... concentrate on something abstract... wed themselves to Sophia... while watching idiots go through their motions of hard-ons and juiced up oysters worth of ****.

vultu mutabilis albus et ater...
        of changeful countenance, both white and black...

that quote alone...
        from the book: answer to Job... by C. G. Jung...
i can make peace with Herr Jung...
       i'm very familiar with his... good nature in writing...

i'm feeling good... best day ever...
made my father some meatball spaghetti for lunch
for work tomorrow: i'm ******* working
and all... stewarding... loitering...
it's not working... not when you're herding people...
it would be work if i had 20 cows under
my supervision...
            the "work" is a joke...
**** easy... just put on a facade like you're about
to count how many teeth they have
with your knuckles... inside or outside
their mouth? erm?!            both...
just pretend... it's a "job" of pretending...

but at the same time: play the game of FWENDS...
that's important...
   also... tend to your fellow coworkers...
   make sure they get the breaks...
   be firm with others...

West Ham vs. Frankfurt... love it!
         going to brush up on some of my Deutsche!
grr... obviously spoken with an English grammar
logic...
          ar du haben ein güt zeit?
              alles (ist) güt?
    
in China, himmel ist runden und die erde quadrat...

yeah... that should work...
English grammar is pretty much German grammar...
we'll: sehen... we'll spiegel...
bounce back and forwards...
             after all... post-apocalyptic Sächsisch
that broke their own rules when invading these isles
and mingled with the Celtic and Welsh tribes...
well... maybe not so much the Welsh...
               finally! some other German breeds...
i'm starting to think... Saxons... Pomeranians...
Swabs... oh... Frankfurt... that's Hessen territory...
oi oi! we're going to get a bunch of Hess!
        i look at the Germans and immediately think:
dog-breeders!
            rot! Russ! rot! Russ! viler! viler! raf! rough!
r'ah!

        its truly amazing watching these two old rivalries
take centre stage...
it's never ever pretty when it comes to Polacks vs.
the Russians... let alone Ukrainians...
but it's like: when it come to the Ing-leash
those proud post-Saxony Saxons: i'm pretty *******
sure some Saxons were like: we're going to stay...
oh... wait... why didn't that migrating horde
of fighter come back?

ah ah... i see... i've seen it already...
when i was young... a blonde was the archetype of
beauty for me...
as i've aged... red heads... Celtic red heads...
i'm going absolutely ballistic over them...
freckles... no freckles... whatever...
skin... complexion that could compete with milk...
i'm driven nuts by these red heads...
******* cuckoo... ****** Tunes: wolf whistling
in my head...
i don't care... the lighter tinge... the darker crossing
into auburn territory ginger...
*****... **** me: she could even grow a beard
and i'd still doggy-****-her...

             that's why those invading Saxons didn't
come back... because of the ginger ***** and *** galore...
same... i would have stayed...
no questions...

   so a few sentences in Deutsche... sorted...
   i'll practice tomorrow whenever i come across those
few that come up to me and ask in that
goot... achtung achtung accenting:
  mein goot Bwi-dish ascent... ya?
    oh... ya ya... das ist goot...

                                   h'eh h'eh...

but it's so different... i have absolutely no animosity
for the Germans...
they became mesmerized by an Austrian...
and... come to think of it... an Austrian is not
a German and a German is not Swiss...
i think it's that simple...
           it's fun... over 'ere in Europe...
it's so unlike H'america... we're juggling ethnicity
rather than race... race is so boring:
so H'american...

                        but i close my eyes... i've had enough
to drink... like clockwork...
my body just jumps into a drum-beat...
the best i could find... it's insatiable...
i can't resist grooving to it...
using both of my hands to tap out the Morse Code
of the rhythm...

   the Brian Jonestown Massacre's: Panic in Babylon

i seriously had a terrible day in the kitchen...
i was working with premade beef tartar meat...
what's this?! i ask my mother...
it's mush! it's mince!
             i couldn't eat a steak tartar with this!
i like my steak tartar finely diced...
yeah yeah: capers, gherkins the whole shebang...
raw egg yolk blah blah... i don't do raw mince...
that's baby food... i need a bite...
so she replies... make some meat *****...
fair enough...
             but i make the mistake of adding some bacon
into the mixture... and a pinch of salt...
oh **** me... that's salty... i thought it said:
unsmoked bacon...

****... not even the breadcrumbs and the yolk helped...
what to do... what to do...
or the paprika... what to do, what to do...
i need to salvage the meat...

right... make enough tomato sauce...
but don't season it with salt...
pepper... Italian herbs... Kashmiri chilly...
    o.k., o.k., no salt... that should balance out just right...

and there's me grooving to Panic in Babylon...
tapping away with the beat...
while at the same time... closing my eyes and thinking
i'm stirring a *** of freshly brought sinners
in hell... don't ask me why...
if i were to rewrite Dante's inferno...
a completely different affair...
i wouldn't take Virgil with me...
and we wouldn't even descend into hell...
i'd take him around London... but i wouldn't be taking
Virgil... i'd be taking Horace...

              klar als tag!

where's that quote i was looking for... it has to be in here
somewhere...
i knew i had it somewhere...
no... not under Lucifer... under Aquarius...
ah... there it is!

          Luciferi vires accendit Aquarius acres:
Aquarius sets aflame Lucifer's harsh forces...

and as i typed this... QWERTY...
Christopher Latham Sholes... in on par in my books
with the Sejong the Great...
the story goes... Marquis de Sade's uncle...
Abbé de Sade of Ebreuil... had a library of books
you would read with only one hand...
ergo? you'd *******...
personally? yeah... the ol' Marquis gave me a hard-on
in the past...
the QWERTY model though...
it's beside a concept of a piano...
after all... there are so many combinations
of lettering that erode your memory:
but you rarely have to look down to look
at what your hands are doing...
depending on the size of the keyboard...
you just peep down and reposition your hands...
but that's why you have two SHIFT buttons...
why wouldn't you?
esp. if you're trying to type out a quote verbatim...
you're holding a book in one hand...
you're crow-pecking at each digit of a letter
with your index... because you're transcribing...
you do need... you do need two shift buttons
for the upper-case... you can't just switch-on
and switch-off CAPS LOCK... pointless...

now i have an urge of biting into some raw garlic...
or... onion... no... not pickled...
i need some adhesive that's also a repellent...
i have too many spiders in my bedroom...
i'm afraid that i'll eat some in my sleep...

i'm still vehemently adamant when saying:
i'd shoot Freud in the back of the head...
like an Andrei Chikatilo.... why?
i just feel like it... terrible ideas...
or, rather... too simple... it's not even the horrors
of cubism of modernism...
do i have to race bait the ******?!
all of the Hebrews that entertained Europe
aas their home for over 2000 years lost
their Mediterranean sun-tan anyways...

oh right... that's how it works?! they get settled back...
the Yids... the Hebs... and what do they flood
Europe with? their enemies...
the invading Islam falafel...
       cool cool... good to know...
       i'm on the receiving end... well... i'm not...
the western "powers" might have capitulated...
try that same **** in Russia...
as much as i want to love the Germans...
at least the Russians are sensible...

     because what?! "on the right side of history"
sort of happened with Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya...
Syria? did it?!

that quote... about Aquarius and Lucifer...
plenty of delusion people where i'm at...
why should i be any worse...
i'm only joking when pretending to be the devil...

ich bin teil aus das macht, welche immer wille
     böse und immer arbeiten güt...

  i am part of that power which eternally wills evil
and eternally works good...

well... we're... "we're" sort of waiting to pounce...
seeing how Western Europe has been left to
the power hungry cucks of society...
           i'm siding with the Russians:
because as a ******,,, Ukrainians?!
undermined the stability of the Polish-Lithuanian
Commonwealth... they ******* sided
with the remnants of the Mongols that didn't
******* back to Mongolia but occupied
Crimea... ******* lemon *******
squint copper-skins... what?!

                i love depitcing our differences...
is... is that... a "problem"?
you know what proverb...

  jeśli wejdziesz między wrony, musisz krakać jak i one:
when you come among the crows...
you must croak like them...
Rome... blah blah...
  there's this animosity building up in
me that's becoming unhealthy...
  i don't have the stomach...
   but in the near future... i see...
someone...
                     someone who will erase
this Islamic curse from the face of Europe...
it's simple Newtonian logic...
  it's simple... i don't have the voice...
i don't have the ambition(s)...
                 i prefer to drink... draw circles...
scribble my little laments...
shout from the heights of the Bastille like.... de Sade...
i drink: i don't dance...
   there's plenty... we're readied...
       i want Saudi Arabia to burn...
             i want a second Islamic schism...
this one? spearheaded by the the Turks...
   i want Jesus t be known as...
the Lord of Mosquitos...
               that's enough... this ****** is going
to fall back into line with hell's democracy:
or else!
           he has had too many years of ownership
of time!
hell's rebelling! ich besagt: hölle ist rebellieren!
genug! das ist es!

he's no son of god... he's one of us...
         he's the Lord of Mosquitos...
                why, though... this waiting game...
keeping it a secret?!
well... no wonder... god is a... ahem...
            marry ****** with Elizabeth Bathory...
you get?! no no... not a bloodbath...
                      because?! nature is benevolent...
oh sure it is... it's so nice to men that will never get
a chance to hear a moan...

what prompted me?
a message from my "girlfriend"... a Turkish beauty...
raven hair... i wish it was ginger...
whatever...

seriously... that's how this world works?
i'm getting a message from my *******: "girlfriend",
hey, how are you... telling her...
i'm good... your lips are like ******* mangos...
mush mush... see you soon...
while the women i work with are single mums
in their 30s... thinking they're hot stuff and i'm
like... i'd be sooner seen ******* a camel... toe...
whatever... how oblivious to you have to be
to the whole situation?!
i'm calling prostitutes my girlfriends because:
well... at least they like to ****...
and these supposed "free" women...
"free" as in... entangled with raising children...
why, would, i, even, *******, bother?!
they're not mine...
            where does it say that i need to "man up"
to raise someone else's *****-sprank?!
if there's an authentic war... not waged
as proxy by H'americans... sign me up...
but... raising some else's chiuldren?! *******...
not via dating... via being a surrogate father...
but even then... nein...
                 niet...                         nie....       no!

nature has a cruel habit of being... raving revealing
in what's considered to be fair...
didn't the anglophone world popularise Darwinism?!
so... what's the ******* problem?!

i just texted my Turkish "girlfriend" ******* back...
we're good... i'm getting paid... tomorrow?!
obviously i'm gagging for it...
but i'll need to... exercise... get my mojo back...
harsh cardiovascular... white wine... etc.
i want to perform... i just can't imagine ***
on a regular basis... in a relationship...
regressing into... having to watch t.v. together...
tell you what... my mother made this discovery
today...
the t.v. show: the Royle Ramily... ****... Family...
and... Googlebox...
  it's like a precursor... although...
the former is funnier...
       no... because it's not a soap opera...
        it's not predictably blind to people's expectations...
now that she text me i'm sort of getting a hard-on...
now that i text her back i'm...
oh... right... she wants me...
           it's better when it's that ******* obvious...
i.e. between men and women...
you want her... she wants you...
        she had about a dozen bad *****...
now she's texting you: come back... Lassie! come home!
Caroline Aherne... i always... always...
what a lass... i can't stress it enough:
give me Tuesday... i could become lazy with her
in front of a... an aquarium... i hate the t.v.:
how about somewhere in Scotland...
with a fireplace?!
                        i'm happy with this Turkish *******
messaging me: where are you?! are you o.k.?!
why not... any woman is enough treasure...
i'm not going to tell a ******* from a nurse
apart... i can't: i don't want to...
      even though there are supposedly more
women in the world than men...
  n'ah... that's never going to be an armchair
in my mind... that "armchair" is going to remain...
"being" an armchair outside of my mind...
"somewhere" in a living room: as a ******* armchair...
not... some... abstract... safety-net...
in the... "back of my head" quiz...
      i don't have a ****** fetish... a niqab: skunk
oomph...
            as Khedra said...
just because you don't have unprotected ***...
sorry... sorry... just because you have protected ***...
doesn't mean that you will not catch STDs...
oh man... that's harsh...
***** *******... they probably don't wash their
hands after they've eaten or taken a ****...
  well... that's me done... i can have unprotected ***
with a ******* and no worry about catching...
Syphilis...
                    tested, proven, done... if i get a wring-worm
puking up a mushroom steering wheel for my
monkey brain to facilitate: i'll let you know...
but even at work...
  around women... this one gives me the most dirtiest
looks... why? she hasn't figured me out...
she tries the intimidation tactics... hugs me...
keeps clinging to me mishearing her say DARLING
while i thought she said DADDY...
****** insinuations... blah blah... blah... blah...
i'm not a gangster... i'm not part of some
criminal underworld...
             but brothels aren't exactly hotels...

prostitutes aren't exactly your next door neighbour
sort of
gals... are they?
so if one messages you: with  a longing?
winged Hussar... she has a mouth...
a mouth that could melt....
a  **** of butter...                    tiresome irk.
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
**** it... i'm going to the opera on my borthday!
i'm not working with these ceramic...
herd... erd... whatever the **** they are
with their beautiful hair... wrapped up in napkins:
they should be white!
no! nein! niet! nie!
                           ******* being camel jockeys!
or... like the Bangladeshi... slaves to the Qatari Royal
Family! *******! if you're willing to take it:
take it!

more camel pressure... the **** needs you to investigate
whether it really does... need to take a dump...
******* copper-necks... it actually sounds better
in English than in German... for once! for once!

because of the advent if Islam in Europe,
the northern Crusades are all: hush hush...
   hush: stille mein kind...
not near worth mention!

-------------------------------------------------------­---------

this has truly become a defeating project,
i bit off too much than i could chew...
    even i know this: i've turned into a quasi-novelist:
who will never write any proper dialogue
or for that matter respect the form of a paragraph...

once again, sitting with a whiskey sharpshooter watching
my female Maine **** hunt for little flies
peering into my wardrobe trying to squeeze in...
if it was the male Maine **** he would have had
already jumped into it and coseied himself
on my clothes... while i would curse some other day
that all my clothes have cat fur on them...
i groomed him today... what a sensible little creature...
tail waggling while i cut his nails
   and brushed his coat...

prior to: taking a **** in three turns...
    i don't know: irritable bowel syndrome or something?!
why can't i take one proper **** in a day,
my **** is nagging me...
watching ******* usually helps with
the constipation...
           like today... i've reached that point
in the month where i'm thinking about revisiting Khedra
in the brothel...
look at me... monogomous: even when it comes
to prostitutes... because she really is an amnesia ****:
she made me completely forget Ilona...
i thought i'd never find a **** this good...
     lucky for me... she's even better...

she makes those nymphomaniac sounds when
performing *******: it's a cross between a baby *******
on a *** and someone enjoying a bowl of pasta...
and it really dawned on me... 2nd take on the throne
of thrones i was watching this
video: bootyass girl (201K subscribers) -
the video itself has over 2 millions views... on xvideos.com,
sure... i ****** off... but like i already said:
i'm jerking off without the ******...
                  
   mein gott! what a beached whale!
                visually unappealing... well... up to a point...
3rd take on the throne of thrones and i knew it would
be the last... again: checking the "plumbing"...
but this time: sound on...
    O......                                   oh...
oh... now i get it...
                                she might look like a beached whale...
but turn the sound on... **** me...
men are these supposed visual creatures?!
Beethoven was too, wasn't he?
              no no... if a beached whale of a woman
makes sounds like that during ***...
i.e. she is a polypohny of onomatopoeias
    / an inverted Katakana... i.e. whereas the Samurai
can write MA... they can't write AM... ** but not OH...
  well... that was that... ******* at the thumb shoved
into her mouth while her partner is ******* a leather
couch: by the sound of the "echo" coming from her ****-cheeks...
shhhhhh it... ooze... just managed to squeeze it out...
FINALLY!
    again... no ******... get a hard-on... relax the ****...
don't ask me how i figured this one enigma out...
trial & error... to hell with laxatives...

                      i'm gearing up...

but my day was way more interesting than merely this...
i did wake up at 6am... stayed in bed until 8am
listening to music... because you sometimes have to...
errands...
         sort out a hire for a KANGO...
which is construction industry "slang" for...
    pneumatic drill... jackhammer...
at the hire shop a guy probably younger than me
knew what i was talking about...
     with a glee of approval... his father must have worked
in times when you used to say the word KANGO...
one of those proper ones...
two handed... posted the picture on facebook...
i mean: it's such a neat toy... felt chuffed wheeling it back
home and then on the bus...
   had these two concrete buffs irritation where once
two greenhouses stood... need to get rid of them...
set down drainage... 2 tonnes of soil and grass...
nothing but grass...

     KANGO: i didn't even know it before i checked it out...
the etymology: literally Chinese language...
カンゴ
                   but otherwise in the construction industry
a jackhammer, a pneumatic jackhammer...
what a lovely beast... the best *** i've seen in a while...
made me think of that quote from Full Metal Jacket:
anything by Gunnery Sgt. Hartman -
or that Combichrist song: this is my rifle...
seriously... i don't care what they say:
the Vietnam War had the best soundtrack...
   no other war in the history of man had such a goo...
******* amazing soundtrack...

who wouldn't be happy working a pneumatic drill hammer...
two handed... lifting rock... concrete...
i'm happy... i've already mentioned it:
work ennobles (physical work)...
    a lesson learned when it was taught by the Nazis
to the Polacks in Auschwitz...
what was once arbeit macht frei
has become... arbeit adelt!
                                  simple, no? to learn from once
former conquerors... and to redefine that... "silly"
ol' joke that's particular to German sensibilities...
moving bags of rock from point X to point Y
and then from point Y to point X...
       like they couldn't have turned concentration camps
into something useful... but... them being concentration camps...
seriously... they were lazy at mass ******...
if they were so ******* efficient in other areas of
warfare... they weren't particularly good at their
initial plans...

oh right: that's the ****** sense of humour...
laughing about the Nazis... i almost forget where i'm placed
in this world... all that need for theatre...
to ensure panic was kept under a lid...
     the Mongols were more effective at mass ******...
genocide... hell i bet the Ugandans had a better track
record...

finally! i'm coming the end of my note taking...
it only took me four days and five nights
to get enough drink in my to spew this crap out...

but i'm getting there...
   i don't fear Islam...
             i'm  huge fan of Rumi:
what remains after nothing?
    love is the flame which, when it blazes
consumes everything other than the Beloved.
the lover wields the sword of nothingness,
in order to dispatch all but God:
consider what remains after Nothing;
there remains but God: ll the rest is gone.
Praise to you, O mighty Love,
destroyer of all other "gods"...

    la illaha il Allah... there are not gods but God
(qu'ran 3:62)...
   i wrote that into the back of the book
by Bukowski when i first came across him in Glasgow...
all those years ago...
la illaha il Allah...
    funny side-story... the term God in Maltese?
it's actually Allah...
   i tend to write something akin to: all?! ah!
i'm not Islamophohic... but... i can understand where
arachnophobia comes from:
but Islam isn't a spider...
             i just don't understand the inverted logic
of Muslims bewildered that there is an Islamophobia...
why be surprised?
i'm pretty ******* sure that Russophobia existed
long before Islamophobia...

   but unlike all the other phobias on the list....
these two phobias are... calculated...
they're not irrational...
why? why aren't they irrational?
does a spider think? i'm pretty ******* sure
a Muslim or a Russian is capable of thought...
but does a spider think?
does an elevator think? a constrained space...
that claustrophobia... does a spider think?!
what's the problem?
arachnophobia is a reflexive-phobia...
Islamophobia is a reflective-phobia...
                          
but what's the difference between fearing Russians
and fearing Muslims?
the Russians already know they're the evil genuises
of this world...
it's nothing new...
         Muslims... the ones i'm working with?
are they seriously planning a takeover...
what... with these cabbage-heads?!
   these retards?! these, retards?!
                 yeah... good luck...
you might get a chance to wind the clocks back one
hour come the winter months...
but that's about it...
            half of which never read a verse of Rumi
or Omar Khayyam...
                      
the women look so petilent... dark clad...
you could at least attire them in linen and make the linen
grey... or white...
there was a time when Islam was superiror to Christianity...
those days are long gone... gone with the camel jockeys...
inbreeding is the currency and the joke...
i'll respect the Iranians...
  because... they were Persians prior to the camel jockey
invasion from Arabia...
and the Turks... because... we're sort of related...
Caucasian... or Mongol-esque...
ancient Turks had their runes... and Turks have very edible food...
while Turkish prostitutes **** like there's no
tomorrow...
i need a second Islamic schism: spearheaded by
the Turks...
leave these Arabs with their Pakistani pawns
to play into that caliphate Sunni game...
Islam needs to splinter... there needs to be a second schism...
spearheaded by the Turks...
the Turks teaed as far up as Vienna from what i know...
leave the Saudi princes and their fetishes alone:

god will judge them...
        princes of the pink ponies and blonde ******...
down the Spartan route...
i'm not Islamophobic... i'm like a tapeworm when it comes
to Islam... ooh... this fasting idea... i could use that...
not for religious reasons... like i once explained...
you know what fasting does for me?
increases my concentration...
                               i like fasting...
i like thinking about food... because?! personally?!
thinking about anything beside food is sort
of boring... i like to be closest to the wild animal...
and what does the wild animal ever "think" about
if not food?! or biting off its limps if
it were to be caught in a beaar trap?!

right... right? what about...
a Germpophil?
                        
heil dir im siegerkranz:
what a little unkept "secret"....

strange body: overgrowth of muscle having
muscle removed from the shoulder blade,
Armilius,
                           i miight as well have a crow
perched...
                 muscle movement from that lacking
in the shouder-blade... just above the collr  one...
once i stress its existence.

whiske! whiskey! more whiskey!
the sun illuminating the governance of spring
can't ever overshadow the moon,
come the same season

genügend ist genügend!
     das ist alles!
                    nachweisen-in-dem-pudding.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
that's the beauty of music: music will never lie to you... music can't lie to you... when Thundercat was supporting Red Hot Chilly Peppers i tried to think: please make this sound as vanguard as Miles Davis' ******* Brew... please please... nope... can't stomach this stuff... music can't lie to you... just like today... i was surrounded by people who genuinely enjoyed Ed Sheeran... me? i tried not to yawn... but i was... yawning with my mouth closed... i could only pick out two songs i really liked... SHIVERS and... before today: i wouldn't have guessed it... but Ed started explaining that his first success was more as a song-writer than a musician / entertainer... i would have never guessed that he wrote the song LOVE YOURSELF for Justin Bieber... maybe that's what was so weird... because i love the song... maybe that's why i didn't mind Justin Bieber singing it... because it was actually written by Ed... but that's it... two songs... music will never lie to you... music is the highest authenticity know to man... thank god i'm not a musician... but i was just standing there... indifferent... a fellow steward looked at me and tried to make me smile by putting his fingers into his cheeks and create a pristine imitation Joker... no... i'm not going to smile... so i stood there... buried my face in my folded hand as if to recreate an imitation of awe: pretending to smile with my eyes... music can't lie to you... it's a one man show... i'm more of a band guy... i like a lot more commotion on stage... the backwards and forwards between, say... Flea... Mr. Frusciante and Chuck... i love the idea of sharing a "burden"... music will never lie to you... that's why i'm not sitting down and trying to enjoy at least two hours of music i really like... KORTEZ... because i hate the idea of being indifferent to music...

sitting here at 2am, drinking the finest bourbon and
looking for the moon...
left the house at 9am and only got back home
after 1am:

i was so lucky getting back... caught the Metropolitan
line to Liverpool St and was sitting on
a train on platform 7 trying to understand my luck:

the 12:15am train to Southend Victoria...
    wow! it's stopping at Romford... usually these trains
only stop at Shenfield...
i usually have to slug it on a train that stops
on all the stops in between Liverpool St. and Romford:
Maryland, Forrest Gate, Manor Park,
Ilford, Seven Kings, Goodmayes... Chadwell Heath...
15 minutes later and i was eating a chicken wrap
and drinking a can of 7up... having to only wait
5 minutes for the 175 bus home...

now i need to relax after all the thrills of working
the Ed Sheeran gig...
      i need something completely different musically...
i don't regret choosing to do the London Stadium
shifts... with the Red Hot Chilly Peppers...
   hmm... Ed Sheeran live...
                  one man on a rotating stage in the middle
of the Wembley pitch...
    one man on stage...
                  you could say Pavarotti was also but a single
man on stage...

i don't know... oh sure: he was amazing...
   a sort of jack-in-a-box... but...
                        i don't think a single man can generate
the same sort of energy as a band...
it's a sort of yes and no answer... it's just so different
and it's so not so different...
                          
any diaspora of people around the world:
whether these be Somalis in England...
      Italians in England and America...
           the Hebrews pretty much everywhere...
i don't know how i managed to keep with
the cultural output from Poland...
           but there's a very decent alternative to someone
like Ed Sheeren: after all... he can be exported
to places like Poland... France...
     English universalism...
                       which is very real...
  
but? someone like KORTEZ? he couldn't be exported
out of Poland and become popular in England:
as much as there is an English universalism:
all other cultures are particular: there's a particularism
about them...
    i'm guessing of the language:
                        the Lingua Franca of the medieval
times Lingua Inglese of the modern times...

but songs by KORTEZ like: Z IMBIREM (with ginger)
   LUDZIE Z LODU (people from ice)...
BUMERANG (boomerang)...
HEJ WY (hey you)...
                              KOMINY (chimneys)...
                  
and all these songs live...

to be honest: the lyricism of the former is something for
teenager girls... maybe that's why i was sort of put off...
i need smart lyrics as i need good music:
but lyricism in English will hardly convey complexity
that a man could appreciate:
beside Peter Sinfield...

well... i might be living in Poland but i'm still
trying to keep up with the culture...
       because the politics doesn't interest me as much:
i know pretty much that there's an aspect of
a Japanese isolationism...
                     although: like the Mandarin Wall
of ideograms... the accurate phonetic-cutting
                          of words in ****** or the English
joke: too many consonants...

ha... szczerość... honestly...
                 Щero-
                       fair enough... i could almost create
a letter out of -ść since enough words end with these
two letters... like plenty begin with SZCZ (SHCH): Щ...
              
well... i'm not going to invest the equivalent Cyrillic:
impasse...

what made the shift a bit easier was having spent
most of it: up to 9pm talking and joking with a Somali...
women, life, drugs, work...
      work, drug, life, women...
ideas such as: i couldn't a Somali woman living
in England... that's why i married a traditional woman
in Somalia... she's living there with my two daughters...
Somali men who marry Somali women living
in the West: 5 years! 7! they're divorced...
because the women want to go out and party...
he's thinking about bringing her over...
       i think he's waiting for the 7 year itch to be
perfectly established...
******* Somali pirate... but i have to admit...
Somalis have the most infectious smiles...
the whole lot of them...
     a Muslim who used to drink and do drugs in
his youth and went off them after finding
his religion...
                again: even i'm tempted by the Shahadah...
but i'm a Qabbalistic mongrel of sorts...
when he was talking about Somalia being split
into three... hmm... that's interesting...
the English part, the French part and the Italian part...
post-colonial politics...
    but even he was saying things like:
but i hate the Somalis that collaborated...
    the Europeans came offered money and there
were some willing Somalis to sell their neighbours...

minerals... i allowed this conversation up to a point
before i revealed to him:
listen... i'm of a people that don't have a colonial past...
we didn't exist for well over 200 years...
we were carved up by the Russians, the Prussians
and the Austro-Hungarians...
        
i thought you were English?!
            yeah... i thought so too...
i'm neu-Englisch...
                        and when the Somali girls working in
the kiosk noticed me getting along with the Somali...
i managed to brag my way into getting a free
hot-dog...
   while the Somali... caged in the turnstiles
asked me to keep a look out for any supervisors while
he smoked a cigarette...  
    **** me... it's truly advantageous not being English
in London: but at the same time
having people think you are...

in the end we only had a few issues...
unlike a football event: when even vaping is forbidden
we were being kept being asked whether
people could leave the venue to smoke and be
readmitted... we kept tell them:
wink wink... nudge nudge...
   when enough people come... and the stewards
can't see you... ahem... ahem...
most people got the idea...

but some of the women didn't...
   no one checks the toilets... wink wink.... nudge nudge...
until i started talking to this:
she made it adamant that she was a law postgraduate...
good that i didn't tell her that i was a chemistry
postgraduate...
                 impress me: yawn...
we were disputing whether to be a law-breaker...
listen: i'm not telling you can smoke...
i'm just telling you that no one checks the toilets...

but this one scared me and Ishmael... the Somali...
she asked to be let out...
she was told no... but then i initiated the finger
on the lips as if to imply: shh... i'm going you in on a little
secret... she was genuinely offended
that i used this cue... DON'T HUSH ME!
i'm not hushing you...
        all ******* glassy-wild eyed...
defensive & neurotic...
              white... blonde... kept in a cage for the past
three years... i was surprised she wasn't
wearing a face mask...
                  
i don't want to break the law!
you want me to break the law?!
who do you work for?! the event or the stadium?!
oh ****... ladies and gentlemen! we have a sinker!

you're asking me to let you out to smoke:
i'm telling you i can but i can't let you back in...
but... i'm also telling you
that this is not a football event...
the rules are relaxed...
                     she gave me a proper fright...
i thought she was going to grass me and Ishmael up...
luckily she ****** off...

these two other bubbly girls approached us...
this was the first time i was told i looked ****
outside of a brothel...
we let them out... one "medical" grounds...
but we served them up a plan A (medical grounds
reasons, to have a smoke)
or plan B... crowd-build up... no one checks the toilets...

then this one guy with crowd anxiety...
agoraphobia+,
                       charged me with tears in his eyes...
Wembley policy is that not all disabilities are visible...
i had to let him out... he did return...
i have to explain to my supervisor that
the guy had psychological demons haunting him...
you can't just tell me that i can't let him back
in when he's obviously distressed...
thankfully that went down as a treat...

i'm starting to realise that people are dim when it
come to someone insinuating that: rules
can be broken... i know that a high-viz. jacket is no
symbol of the sort of authority associated with
a police uniform... but we were telling people:
it's the concert season... you're not football hooligans...
it's a music concert...
it's not a football match... there are no two opposing sides...
with that comes some leniency...
you want to enjoy it? or you want to make our
lives more difficult?!

wink wink: nudge nudge...
  
oh man... listening to KORTEZ right now...
what a welcome relief from the ordeal of being indifferent
to Ed Sheeran...
i have this co-worker who's dreading working
the London Stadium when Chelsea will play West Ham...
i was the same today...
being indifferent to Ed Sheeran being surrounded
by Ed Sheeran fans is sort of a ******...
i can't fake smiles... i rather hide my mouth in my hand
and look pensively lost in "admiration"
and pretend to smile with my eyes
than fake a smile...

      music will never lie to you...
                      i didn't hate it... but i didn't love it either...
there's nothing worse than apathy:
i've been told...
but then there's a play on words:
apathy breeds no pathologies...
   since? it's a pathology in itself... funny how that works...
it's almost 4am and i think...
thank god i'm not working tomorrow...
i'll get at painting the garden fence...
i'll vacuum the house... i'll go on a bicycle ride...
i'll stack up on *****...
    i'll make my father lunch... then i'll think about
making dinner...
    
hell... what a summer: what a summer without
a girlfriend...
Weezer, Fall Out Boy, Green Day...
Red Hot Chilli Peppers... Ed Sheeran...
    Walter Sickert...
oh right... ha ha... an hour into the event and this
guy walks up to me...
LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!
what's the problem?!
       i'm leaving! i'm leaving!
   why?!
              my wife is being a complete *****!
she's being an idiot!
i'm leaving... i'm going home...
   you do know that when you leave...
i can't... yes yes... I'M LEAVING!
   wow!              

thank god i didn't invest myself in the culture
of free ***... of hook-up culture...
thank god i went down the route: money on the table...
i can't imagine anything good being for free...
nothing good ever is...
   i would never invest myself in the hook up culture...
if it was ever going to be casual ***...
i'd need the sultry / shady avenues of nights
in a brothel...
         no...

oh... ****! i almost forgot!
while we were waiting for our shift to begin...
i spotted these four guys in the distance
playing cards...
i walked up and asked: so... what are you guys playing?!
blackjack... ooh...
can i join in?
sure thing bro...
        oh man... i almost cried... memories flooded in...
i remember sixth form... lunch breaks...
that's all we ever did... played blackjack...
reminiscent of Ernest Hemmingway's novella
Men without Women... men playing cards...
i forgot some of the basic rules
but i watched one round before joining in
and it was: yachts... wind and yachts...
and smooth sailing...
    i missed playing cards with guys so much...
the banter and the teasing...
the manly stuff of men... men without women...
******* utopia...
an eternity spent playing cards with guys...
women complicate matter...
they have this knack of isolating men
and turning men against men
because: in the end... it's women against women...
take women out of the equation
and when men come together...
they're playing cards and drinking beer together...

it's such a fun game...
much better than poker...
what are the rules? ha ha...
2s: pick up 2...
blackjacks: pick up 5...
red jacks neutralize...
kings reverse order of play
8 skip a go...
queens are slags...
aces change from either ***** to diamond...
and you can't finish on a power card...

i love this game! i was a teenager for a while
again!
oh man... i've written so many pointless details from today...
MUSIC DOESN'T LIE TO YOU... blah blah etc...
the highpoint was this ******* card-game!
maybe that's why i never became a gamer...
why i stopped on PS1... final fantasy VII,
metal gear solid...
         some beers, cards: ***** 'n' giggles...
parallel words...
    a man has... when it comes to his fellow men
and individually: with women...
playing cards or... going shoe-shopping with her?
playing cards... every single time...
even if it means not fathering a child
and not ******* on a regular basis;
   i like to keep my mind in order...

even the Somali said: you look young for a 36 year old...
even with the beard...
and we joked: you know why?
i don't have a woman... and that massive crescent
moon of a Somali smile conjured itself on his face...
yeah... we're relatable... laughter and the day
passed with a peace that might have made
angels jealous, if not the gods themselves;

**** me... even i sometimes find myself profound...
in a recent comment i wrote
about someone's concern for mortality
and enligthment:

deus in machina in perfect ratio to **** ex machina,
my frailty... against the infallibility
of trains or architecture...
the god inside the machinery...
compensated with the man outside of machinery...
and this backwards and forwards:
deus ex machina and **** in machina...
deus ex machina being the genius-ingenuity
of man... while **** ex machina being his...
stupendous dumbness when obliterated
by the artifacts of his fellow creature...
that's **** ex machina:
          the labourer is not the architect...
the nurse is not the heart surgeon...
              
               there's such a perfect harmony
to sharing toils... responsibilities...
just as long as the libido is managed and we
don't over-**** to create pointless middle-management
roles for people with little-****** complexes of
authority investment... we should be good...
but that's truly dependent on orientating ourselves
around what best way to fulfill our libido:
not careless *******...
    more people requires more jobs...
and that also demands scrutiny on a lack
of metallurgy in Europe...
                     etc.

             me and my new found Somali friend agreed:
neither of us could understand Western atheism...
i'm a Qabbalistic mongrel looking for a second schism
in Islam spearheaded by the Turks...
i'm not getting on my knees...
in a church... to give a ******* to a demigod...
after all... even Achilles could be equated on equal
footing... but he fought his way toward the zenith...
this pacifying of man with the suffering of but one
with shady dealings: arguments of "innocence"...
of course i'm inclined to the simplicity of Islam...
but also inclined to the complexity of Judaism...

but if i argue my case for blood in beef...
but if i argue my case for pork...
but if i argue my case for alcohol among these
two tribes...
blood in beef is healthy: iron...
pork? why be critical of god's creation?
you tend to sheep in deserts...
but when you're going to tame the boars...
you can eat everything from a pig...
alcohol? keeps you warm in cold climates...
but if i can have Somalis who drank and did drugs
on board... who found religion
after getting married and having children...

Christianity is a polytheism by this point:
due to its poly-schism...
i can't be a Christian... i toy with the idea
that i'm the reincarnation of Konrad von Wallenrode...
i can't defend what's already rotten...
mind you: i find the idea of reincarnation
repulsive... i.e. there's only a fixed number of souls /
individuals... that pass through zombie bodies...
that's... harsh... elitist...

thank god i can't go back to the gynocentric Christianity...
just read some Jung on the whole myth of
Jesus returning and ******* his mother
in the bridal chamber of the "uncircumcised"...
complications that don't require complications...
no... i wouldn't circumcise anyone...

best me: that last "leftover".
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
i couldn't possibly do these sort of shifts 7 days a week,
i just did these brutal shifts back-to-back
the past Saturday and Sunday...
those: once in the blue moon or rather...
when the football season is finishing and sports is dead
and musical festivals and concerts take the priority
of the crowd...
it's so unlike working in construction:
sure... you may have to wake up at 5am...
  start work at 8am... but you finish work at 3pm...
4pm... get home for 6pm and relax a little...
recharge...
   because you go into a construction site and you're
like: right... this and this needs to be done...
and it gets done: or it doesn't get done...
esp. with roofing: it all depends on the weather...
if it starts raining you're not going to sit around:
clock in 8 hours when for half of those hours you
didn't do anything... you're not going to sit in the canteen
and read the ******* newspaper... are you?

what's the difference? this current job i'm doing
is apparently so, oh so easy... crowd management...
management of a drunk crowd is always easy...
right? nothing can go wrong when a bunch of men
start drinking and become emotionally stunted
when watching football, right?

                    i woke up at 6am... left the house at 7am...
started my shift at 8:15am... finished at... 7:30pm...
got home at: five minutes shy of 9pm...
   i had to wash my ***... smear it with a good dollop
of cream... change my underwear
because... the pair i was wearing throughout the day
turned my *** into a: snail slugging it across
******* sandpaper...
    prior to starting the shift i did the next best thing
to eating twice while on it... i took a ****...
once upon a time i would keep it in...
   head-spinning... sometimes feeling like i've been
hit with a hammer over the head trying to fall asleep
on the tube... woken up by the lodged **** in my ****...
no more!
      so i took a dump like: "****-Break" takes a ****
in American Pie... toilet paper spread all around the public
toilet seat...
    ooh... better than an ******...
but then? where did all that gas came from?
and i'm not even talking: stinking solipsistic farts...
that you identify yourself with...
i'm talking... silent: a cow just sneezed sort of farts...
maybe that's why my *** is so sore...
but these shifts are brutal... i couldn't do 5 days in
a row... i'd be mad to do them...
three weekends in a row is enough...

                mind you: today i had to cover two football
games back-to-back...
unlike the Tyson Fury boxing match...
these, were, not, fun...
   fun in the sense of: the stadium was split...
19K for for the first match... blue and parts
of the red zone at Wembley...
start at 12:15pm... finish: thank god one team won
3 - nil in full time...
                 come 2pm we were readying ourselves
for the second crowd...
   during the first match we just loitered...
since our stands were completely empty...
if people think that running is hard...
standing is either harder...
   i tried to ease the strain of my body mass on my legs
by hanging onto the railing and lifting myself up...
i sometimes do that when weighing myself...
imagine how many kilograms you can shed
by standing on the weights and pushing your hands
against a table... from 100kg i can weigh in at about 78kg...
that's using my fingertips...
what if i clenched my fists? how does that translate?
simple maths... me pressing my fingers onto someone
lying down would imply... 22kg of weight...
not mass... weight...
           but if i were to do the same with a clenched
fist? i'll measure that tomorrow...
now... imagine swinging that amount... of weight...
not mass... since my arm / hand probably doesn't
have the mass of 22kg... but it weighs that much...
when there's slow-gravity invoked: pressure...

brutal shifts... but rewarding shifts...
today i had my first proper intervention...
about 20 ******* started screaming at me...
oi oi! yes: you! you... you ******* idiot...
it's hard to not be an idiot of sorts when...
you have 20 other idiots screaming at you
telling you to do something...
as the saying goes:

panic is worse than fascism...
   panic is worse than fascism...
******* wild-eyed clueless sissies...
i walk up to them and say:
you know i can't hear a word you're shouting
at me from several rows up...
since the rest of the people are chanting:
or being disgruntled by the score-line...

get a medic! get a medic!
   what's the problem?
get a medic! shrapnel of: a heart attack...
a stroke! a fainting! ****'s sake: which one is it...
so i ran down and told the "guy with the radio"
that we have a medical emergency...
the guy with the radio mumbles something
into the radio or nothing at all... panic stricken...
control room must have noticed something themselves...
i ran to the first aid room and implored
the paramedics to come quickly...
**** me: quickly for some is slowest to others...
they leisurely gather their equipment and
that silly wheelchair and... take a stroll...
a literal ******* stroll to the point of concern...
by the time they get there:
the medic team of one of the football teams
has already ran up to the point of concern:
person in question...
          
         things were sorted, let's just put it that way,
more medics came... a make-shift wheelchair
that's used to wheel someone from a row of
spectators was employed:

panic is worse than fascism...

        turns out: a false call... yes... it was one
of those instances where an old-timer had
outlived his capability to be a spectator at a live
football match... it was probably he last...
he just sort of "pretended to be a woman"
and fainted... old age caught up with him:
he should have been watching the game from
the comfort of a nursing home: on the ******* t.v.!
he didn't have a heart attack... he didn't have a stroke:
he was mr. smooth panic-inducer...
the sort that's translated into the youth of today
with their panic attacks...
what's someone who's schizophrenic or psychotic
to say?
well... i've been diagnosed with a psychotic "disorder":
i don't know how much of its true
and how much of it is concerning:
what psychiatrists get paid for...
what dead artists do: by employing all those
people after they die... critics, writers of books of
biographies... museum critics...
dead artists seem to be the best employers...
by the looks of it...

the old timer was fine... i took the "principle"
of the scale of escalation and it was sorted within minutes...
but that was the final straw...
i really wanted Wrexham to beat Bromley...
i really did... everything up to that panic inducing
******* was working in my favour in terms
of having a pleasant shift...
but those 20 or so finicky ******* got to me:
as i could be paying attention to someone that
was hidden when they all stood up and
complained! complained! nothing was being done...
done what? done where?!
the ******* were standing up obstructing my view!
apparently it is illegal to persist in standing up
at a sports event! but i was the idiot... or whatever
the hell they called me: because i didn't have
super-sonic hear-aids and somehow could
filter out the noise of the entire crowd from their
manic insinuations:

   there and then i wished my ego of egos...
i hope you lose...
   i hope you leave this stadium drunk with your:
idle ******* sadness of giving a **** about a football match...
how quickly you could switch
from caring more about a football match...
to "somehow" caring about an old man
experiencing fainting like it might actually
be the feeling of falling by a your man
jumping off a car park to his death...
   tut tut... double standards...
to care about "something" that's already reached
its completion... while discarding the thing
that's yet to achieve its potential... tut tut:
like that "riddled" from Eden:
and you will know the difference between
good AND evil...
no... no they won't:
   they'll conflate the two:
call good evil and call evil good...
sometimes they'll get it right...
          because Nietzsche never read Kierkegaard
and Kierkegaard never read Nietzsche...
ergo?
    there's no beyond: either good or evil...
         as there isn't an a/n/d(?)     is there?

but it was oh so smooth prior to this little jitter...
i was wondering...
Wrexham... where's that?
i was inviting people to their seats... greeting them...
blah blah... Wrexham...
then i saw this girl with an inflatable sheep....
and she was holding it... adamant on pushing her thumb
into a little whole in the inflatable sheep's rear...
sheep... Wrexham...

now... i don't have to travel outside of London much
to have the rest of Britain to come to me...
Liverpool fans... great... pristine creatures...
the Irish... the Sunderland crowd...
                    i've lived among the Scots for over three years...
the Manchester pride-boys: ponce after ponce after ponce...
i think only someone from Bristol could
annoy me more...
   but still... that accent... Scotland has its own league...
Rangers... Celtic... Celt and: cedilla borrowed from
the Greek sigma (ς),
i.e. Çeltic: but otherwise K(elt)...
        and Celtic proper... so no garÇon: no French waiter
in the vicinity...

i was having fun... i still couldn't pin point the accent...
the Scots have their own league...
there's no Team G.B. in football... unlike there's
one at the Olympics... why?
so then these Welsh flags start coming out...
you what?! this is the promised horde of sheep-shaggers?!
i wasn't expecting about 30K Welshmen descend
on the capital... oh well...

the usual taking of photographs: first time in the capital...
blah blah...
one guy even had to film me telling me:
you don't really need me in the recording...
to which he replied: oh but i do...
about five teenagers were asking if they could
buy these: thingy-magigs... to tie their flag
to some railing... whether the stadium sold these plastic
tie on... what's the ******* noun!
it's such an impossible noun to find:
if you don't use it! strap-ons?! no...
   binders?! whatever... so i quickly figured out
a solution... how about i get a tissue...
    roll it up... you push it through either of the roles...
and you tie the tissue up...
   good idea they replied: i later saw the flag hanging...
so it worked...
i do have a spare pair of shoelaces hanging on my
doorknob to my bedroom:
but it's not like i'll be walking with a spare pair
of shoelaces in my pocket for occasions such as this:
such "weird" requests...
     so i told them...
        this twisted tissue solution will just have to work...

- cut-in point - cut-in point - cut-in point - intermission -

   / i knew i was tired yesterday, i actually forced myself
to write the above:
   as much as i love the whole QWERTY genius
of: once mastered you don't need to look down at
your hands typing: making knowing the memory erosion
from pedagogy concerning the arrangement of
letters: alphabetically slightly obsolete...
    you can't just create this fake order and then
entertain the chaos of language...
if you wanted order proper... since you're starting
with a vowel... all the vowels should come first...
the actual order would be more coherent
   if it was written as follows:
a, e, i, o, u, b, c, d, f, g, h, j, k, l, m, n, p, q, r, s, t, v, x y, z
that's how the alphabet should be
memorised... it's actually easier that way...
because it's a bit like saying:
acids... cut off point: alkaline(s)...
    beside the point... for all the genius of QWERTY...
if we're talking technicalities of the ctrl+ functions
added to the typewriter...
it's sort of idiotic to have put ctrl+c so close to
ctrl+v...
                  fair enough... ctrl+a is a decent amount
away from ctrl+c... but ctrl+a(ll) of the script
+ ctrl+c(opy): what has v? to with the word: paste?
i can use both hands... it should be ctrl+p...
   because you're tired... and slightly tipsy...
things can go wrong... thank **** i saved as much as
i have saved... to catch the sort of language at the extremities
of consciousness...
                thankfully i remembered what i wrote...
but if i were being truly honest... i lost some original
words... and i sat there... for about half an hour:
i'm never getting them back... i overlaid what i already
saved with extending the salvage project...
      obviously erasing what was to be added to the original
ctrl+a / ctrl+c...

never mind... i've lost dozens of poems like that...
i said: **** it... i'm done with cursing the crucifix...
i'm used to losing precious things...
better get used to it... calmed myself down...
i'm still left with nearly 2K of words from that state
of consciousness...
   i know what i was writing about... i'll just
reword what i "think" i wrote... no biggie...
   and to no surprise... i woke up in a good mood...
i'm done keeping to things...
   some people write a Haiku and think it's somehow
special... i'd find writing so little so dissatisfying that
i think i wouldn't have written anything...

but yes... the alphabet could be better arranged...
because those randomly placed vowels
in between consonants are not really indicative of anything
coherent... people complain that
the people invented the gods...
     that "god" made us in his own image...
but people say: we made "god" in our own image
to excuse our sometimes horrible behaviour...
hence? the inertia of: no divine intervention...
    it's a double-edged sword...
but the alphabet?! we sure as **** created that:
evolved towards it...
i think it needs a coherent revamp...
to hell with the classical model... sure... learn it
if you must... but then rearrange it like i have
rearranged it... so that you put all the vowels
in one basket... and all the consonants in another basket...
at least numbers follow some coherency:
odd, even, odd, even, odd, even...
but obviously you can't do that with letters
since: they're not exactly constructed via a binary
set of standards... you can easily mistake a D for a T...
a B for P... depending on who utters what word...
it's not... vowels "vs." consonants...
for a binary system... you'd need...
the same amount of each possible "choice" of "yes"
or "no": you can have the binary mathematical model
of odd, even, odd, even...
but... in the English language there are...
fives vowels and 21 consonants...
                         and at that: consonants require vowels
to be uttered... be... not ebb...
              then you have things like -SH- and -CH-
   but the original alphabetical order is pointers...
some man created that order... well... i don't like it...
the next time someone asks me
i'll use my model... because i like it...
    the vowels don't need to be inserted randomly
akin to (beside A)
     d e f
       h i j
        n o p
     t u v             unless of course there's some
yet undiscovered mystery concerning this choice
of choice of placing the vowels in that order
and between these consonants...
   some acronym? i'm not even going to think about it...
                                                                                               /

- end of intermission - end of intermission - end of intermission -

the instruments might have changed:
but the hunger is still the same...
i think people have outlived if not exhausted the point
of the selfie...

however women think that taking a selfie
is equivalent to artists painting self-portraits...
sorry: most women are not artists...
the self-portrait is a peering in: an introspection...
it's not about taking a quick-snap...
it's sort of a consolidation of either a beginning
or a break from some subject matter...
for example... Walter Sickert's
first self-portraits as a young man are
not narcissistic... i've have the same "problem"
even though i don't paint (i wish)...
this terrible fascination with the mirror
and that act of peering into it feeling like
my face is about to melt... the youth of a man
as an artist: the treading on allure in darkness
and of darkness and off darkness...
but after a long career: studying Venice's architecture
and Camden Crime Scenes... he returns
to the self-portrait... but by then...
he's painting himself as an old man:
eating a spoonful of beans... or...
by then the photograph was invented and he's
painting a translation of photography...
lucky *******... back in the day when photographs
were black and white... he could work
with colour in a way prior to not envisioned...
with white grey and black...
   he could reignite his imagination of colour:
as if colour didn't exist prior...
the project: the world was always white grey and black...
i don't know why artists didn't figure out
a subject matter on how colour can mutate
when working from a white grey photograph...
why the white cliffs of Dover... calcium rich...
couldn't become... say... yellow...
because of the excess sulphur in them...

now, when i say that i write about "work":
i think i'm actually lying...
i don't "work" work... i have this job so that i can
have enough free time to pursue writing...
didn't i write that dead artists are the best
employers in the world?
aren't they? aren't the scavengers of art critics,
gallery curators not profiteering from the dead?!
thank "god" that poems are not like
paintings... if there is any exhibition of them:
it's all mental... the poem gets dragged with
the person dragging it...
the painting remains on the wall for another
person to appreciate it... still stuck to the wall:
of hollow sighs and other... memoranda...

   but the selfie is not a self-portrait...
women don't take selfies like men used to paint...
the camera has become a makeshift mirror...
it's so alien watching women in public use
a live video feed to check how they look...
i think women are afraid of a mirror...
of the stillness of the lake...
       i think women are more susceptible to
any "improvements" in technology than men are...

besides the point... when i write about work:
i'm actually writing about my interaction with people...
i've oddly reignited an old fling of mine:
i was never a true misantrophe...
   but i could never become a philanthropist... either:
you can be both at the same time: oddly enough...
since there's no exacting term for being
a simple philantrophe...
                             in terms of coughing money...
strange how a love for humanity is associate
more with giving out money: to be left alone...
i.e. being a misantrophe through and through...
than simply giving up something priceless...
your care and attention...

             i've learned to love people...
               not in some luvvy... dubby... eekie sort
of way like: sure... let's grab a pint... let's "talk"...
you have your life: i have mine...
somehow we're here at the same place at the same
time... let's just try to not make this
  too complicated.... savvy?

there's a reason why i'm doing this "work":
some people are envious... even the ones
working in the pharmaceutical industry...
sure... they get paid more... but i also write on the side...
and who can say... yeah... i managed to watch
the Tyson Fury boxing match against Whyte
for free... and i got paid...
i'm surrounded by people who paid to see the match...
i watched it for free... and i got paid "peanuts"...
technically... technically:
if you were to include the price of the ticket...
i was probably "paid" close to a £1000 a gig...
give or take...
       that's why i'm still having a circus of laughter
running through my head...

i'm getting paid to mind drunk: disorientated people
get to their seats...
but at the same time... since December of last
year... i yawn at the events people pay decent
money to attend... i love this dynamic...
i get paid to watch something for free...
i sometimes watch, i sometimes switch off...
the event becomes more boring and
the crowd's reactionary response becomes
more interesting... physiognomy?!
****** expression...

   like in this current event of 20 Welsh idiots
having a "community" panic attack over an old timer
having a hard-breather...
insults pass me by... but "we" got there on time...
even though the first-aiders were taking a
stroll: no one died...
i'm like...
    i need to be among the blood the *****
and the phlegm and the sweat...
the bone crunching arithmetic... found two new
plums (bruises on my hands and legs)
from the excited state they were in: hugging me...

maybe... i'm just relate-able...
i never write about work... if i were to write
about "work": having worked in construction sites...
man is the least mandible substance:
being so firm in his beliefs and existential
cages... it's not water... you can't achieve anything
with man presuming he's water
about to boil at one hundred degrees Celcius...
esp. when drunk

i did wonder... though... where the **** is Wrexham?
or, how would you write it?
'rexham? the W turns into a Hebrew:
yod-surd...
  you don't chant: Wrecks-Hams!
but... jeez: cheese: mind the jazz: Louise!
  W-R? what a dynamic!
the last time i came across such a bewilderment
was within the contained environment of
G-N... i.e. 'nostic... i.e. gnostic...
  
i don't do this "job" for: whatever it involves...
i'm not even going to bother getting
that infamous S.I.A. badge... whoever owns it...
well... let's put it out there...
they, have, really, beautiful, teeth!
or, rather: they don't, have, any...
    either because they were bullied at school or:
whatever... muscle, brass... Belgian pate...
whatever... i was in conversation with this one guy:

- so where are you from?
- Romford... Essex...
- oi oi! oi! oi! cotton candy!

we choked aside... i wasn't pushing him...
whatever the ******* rules are:
no drinking beer in view of the pitch...

- i don't want any trouble...
- believe me, i don't want any either...

the matter: i considered, settled...
we mediated a compromise...
i don't want those
self-aggrandising "badges" in my vicinity...
it's sort of unsettling that they have this
authority... so much of it they exercise without
conscience... without having the psychological capacity
to mediate a soothing conversation...

oh but i do know what i have a menial job...
that it's a low skill job...
dealing with large crowds...
drunk crowds...
like this time when the old timer was having
a hard time having to breath...
and i reacted instantly...
i had about a thousand eyes looking at me...
seeking reassurance...
fear is wide-eyed...
               i was plying poker with them...
stern face...
             do i give a **** whether i'm being paid
"enough": no...
but i guess it might matter when a woman
might say: i don't mind the romance...
but do you have a plan?
technically... i'm sitting on a Nicholas II
last Tsar of Russian banknote...
i might have a plan...
say: to rebuild Damascus...

         forge a 2nd schism of Islam:
spearheaded by the Turkish barbers...
i'd love to work with Turks and Afghan Sufis
to reform Islam...
     whatever i do on the "stage": i'm always doing
something sinister in the background...
but it's like the women i work with fail to
realise: you do know that i've visited brothels,
prior, so... what's on offer?
i too have my standard... albeit they are sinking:
sinking...

i never write about work... people are just
strange...
i was trying to place this current adventure of
accents coming to London...
no... it's not from Liverpool...
no... it's sure as **** not from Manchester...
hmm... where, the, ****, is, Wrexham?!

then the flags came out... white on green
with a blatant dragon across... oh ****... sheep-shaggers
united...
why are all the girls from up north prettier...
more approachable than the girls from the south?!
a girl from Sunderland pulled at my beard
like i was a ******* leprechaun stroking
a bald-patch for good-luck and rainbow...
this other girl from Liverpool kissed my cheek...

that's what happens with reading philosophy:
you want to retain being contained /
content with being amazed: in awe...
the further up north you go: the more of the valley
of the dolls you leave behind...
but the Welsh girls looked sort of...
mystified in their... potential for beauty...
they were beautiful... but sort of neglected...
if i had a woman to mould...

different... Wrexham is pretty close to Liverpool...
but like my "coworkers" mentioned...
they were a hassle... what hassle?!
you talked to them?
we were joking between each other
about me taking extra money for taking photographs
of them...
that's where the old tool and the new tool comes in...
no one... no one... wants to be bound to taking
a photograph of themselves...
it's so much different if someone else is taking
a photograph of you...

you're not painting: you're semi-blinking!
what comparison is evidence?!
to hell, with, female, "logic"!

my two example?

oh... the girl that was working with me:
thankfully she was worried about her youngling
having been left with a child-minder... smashing her
head against a glass table... getting stiches... blah blah...

slaps of the the hand... high fives...
low fives...
   knuckle-bumps... blah blah...
              human traffic... Ryan Reynolds...

KELUAR - PANGUNA (the hacker remix) -

managed to move one drunken guy from
posit X to exact X...
    job done...
          moved another... distressed cry-baby...
wrong this that and the other
               x     y                    z

as i escorted him... he shoved me a tenner (£10)
into my hand... telling me... no one was willing
to help me: beside you...
i refused at first... but he attacked me a second time
with gratitude... i wasn't going to refuse a second time...
so i took the tenner...
took him up to his seat... wow! a free bottle of whiskey!
job done!

on my way back into "position"...
some chubby little hobbit approach me...
- i need to take a selfie with you!
   my friends think i might be wrong!

blah blah... apparently i took up a guise...
a visage of some famous rugby player...
what was the name he mentioned?
i'm pretty sure he mentioned the rugby player's name...

he had to take take selfie with me...
he subsequently took a picture of me on my own...

this other instance: first time out of Wrexham...
filming the whole "thing" walking out of the
vomitory... i said to him: you really don't have
to film me...
he replied: but i do! i do!
        ****... i'm going to become someone's
nightmare...

i never write about work... "work is not work":
arbeit ist nein arbeit!
            "arbeit": ist...

i just think of the hierarchy...
the self-aggrandising self-importance folk...
the ones who would: clearly:
first rather shove and push than
talk "things" over...
           i hate these bullies...
that's what's keeping me back from gaining
a "door" license as a security guard...
i don't like violence...
    from my experience: i'm relateable...
maybe i would get extra pay...
but these are not martial artists...
these people have ****-all clue about
engaging in judo...
they're makeshift rapists...
they might have a high opinion about themelves
because they get five pounds more an hour...
but they're: soft-meat...
they're semi-******* in terms of
what's to be communicated:
i'm not looking for escalation:
out of a Darwinistic obviousness...
i'm looking for a... oh god... a Christian sense
of social-containment sensibility...

             if a crusade is the only pardon...
i need enough pushing... i need enough barbaric...
overtaking...
        i'm waiting... i'm like water...
i need to boil...
                 i'm waiting... die zeit ist nicht reif!
the time is not ripe...
or i need for the earth to... slouch... in her defence...
nur dann!
   only then!

geduld! geduld! warten! warten!
        herkommen... stille... wiegenlied, ich dürfte singen!
s(ch)till sein... alles (ist) güt
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2022
well: wasn't it a most spectacular night...
if ancient Romans used to throw themselves
****-naked into nettles...
i don't know... a meditation on saving a drowning
wasp...
funny... i still remember Ilona: surname?
OSA-
            wasp in ****** speaking...
                        my god: she was so unattractive
when i was dating her: i was... let's say... thirsty...
and unlike Laura she gave up her swing
of **** so early on: promised me a trip to see
Metallica in Moscow: i thought i was going places...
i was...
   three piercings in her lips...
tattoos... but she did have mighty dreads prior
to me meeting her...
once i met her she looked like... cross between
a pineapple and a wet mongrel dog...
            no wonder i had trouble getting a *******...
it didn't even help trying to think about
Aria Giovanni... i had to think about Margaret
Thatcher... you have to... it's the opposite rule
of imagining you have something better than what
you have in front of you...
you have to think about something worse
than what you have in front of you...
i'm all out of confessions that might paint man
is a pretty picture...
i'm just listening to ol' lover boy Ed Sheeran...
i probably only like one of his songs...
Shivers... and the acoustic version with the loop peddle...
smart boy... he settled for a college sweetheart
or some **** like that...
for the tune i'm done with sickly-sweet lyrics...
but being the real lover-boy...
bitter? me? no... i'm not bitter: i'm just nostalgic:
nostalgia can appear to be bitter:
it is... cognitive selection is in place:
sort of like natural selection:
   perhaps due to the erosion from pedagogy
(a, b c, d, e f, g... 1 + 1 = 2) i can't remember
what i want... i can't... i remember what is important
or hardly...
i can't chose what i'd like to remember:
memory is water... a fickle creature...
but i guess if there's hypergamy there's
also: misogyny... misandry:
there must be a hyperandry - it's not a made up
world: poor boys hooking up with rich girls:
summer flings...
her father was a timber merchant from Novosibirsk,
she one spare apartment in the centre of
St. Petersburg... it's like that Jojo... Mojo?
that song: in the summertime...
about dating rich girls...
                                  i was a stop-over...
   well... no wonder that i went underground
and back onto a diet of prostitutes...
body-met-body and two bodies came out... as one...
i don't mean to burn dreams of other people
but i hardly dream so... it's nothing eating
the architecture of splinters in a forest...
of pines: can't tell apart a splinter from a pine
needle... like: for like...
woman's competition with man's sexuality...
mind you: i set up a "fake" Twitter account...
just for kicks... john pickwick... @ aol...
         hmm... this is very interesting...
i tried the classical route with the girl that tried
to get me fired... banana loaf... homemade wine...
i was going to bring a vinyl record to play
on her vinyl player: i "lost" a wooly hat i found
at a bus-stop once in her house...
i was so enthralled with her that i simply forgot it:
the sorting hat i called it: i hate Harry Potter...
two doors down...

  right... this trend on twitter... because most of these
women signed up in either August of this year
or July...
now? they're parading themselves on twitter...
there's: Camila @ CamilaMommy...
all of them... single mums... thirsty... single mums...
the: i love chatting and meeting new people
types...
MommyAdeline: lonely mature women (not my typo)
looking for new ****** adventures...

the website? urbestmeet.com...
THESE WOMEN ARE ONLY LOOKING FOR
CASUAL ****** ENCOUNTERS...
single mums and cheating wives...

spicydates.ga...
   Priscila...
well... thank **** i wasn't looking in the "right places":
this could work...
i mean... it might be cheaper than going
to your conventional brothel...
but more of a thought experiment:
these women are not looking for relationships...
no... of course they're not...

this is going to turn out ugly: if i attempt it...
cheating wives? single mums?
well... i've already slurped at the oyster of a *******'s
****... i wonder: how serious would these girls
be about not having relationships...
i'll have to wait: school's out... their children
are at home... i wonder...
of course i'm no electrician:
but i do know that you first have to check the fuse
in the plug of an appliance before you throw the hole
thing out... i like cooking i blah blah this
that and the other: give me a cigarette in a *******
and i'm suddenly swallowing a blue pill
for a hard-on...

   of course not! i'm not god's gift to women...
i'm just curious...
it almost feels like walking into a desert
with a glass of water...
i have a newly woken ambition:
to be more erotically brutal than Ovid:
let's face it... there are difference between the times
when he lived and when i live...
i'm just thinking of the children and what i could
steal...
two doors down there was this single mum...
she entertained about 5 suitors per year
if not more... her autistic boy used to bark
in the garden, started throwing ***** into my garden
as if implying: i want to play with you...
then... started beefing himself up
by... eh... i get the gym-bros... but this guy
was beefing himself up by walking up and down
the garden with... slabs...
yep: up and down, up and down...
he would either hold the slabs above his head
or in front of him... his next "best" uncle tried interacting
with him like a person might
interact with a dog he would simply abuse
by tightening the leash on the boy's neck...
it was perfectly beautiful to watch in the sunshine:
but on overcast days i felt miserable...

she had several spare uncles...
when she moved out and the girl from across the street
decided to hook up with a guy who works the
Docklands light-railway...
the same neighbours: mother: two daughters...
one day i was watching the Silence of the Lambs...
what did i see?
the three of them give me a freakish slideshow of
their ****... mummy exposed herself first...
then the two daughters walked into the room and
straight toward the window...
mein gott: some sanity... please!

anyways... this young couple bought the house
last year... or the year before that...
nice young couple: nice enough to sort of ignore
you when you say good-morning:
******* too...
                    they're still working on the house...
trying to make sense of what ****-show they bought...
well: if you buy a house that was once owned
by a single-mum... in England you're not expecting
cockroaches: that's for sure...
but the rest? they might finish come the coming
Christmas...

i know i'm a ****-up... that's why i drink whiskey
for the anaesthesia...
but even i, am, not, that ****** up...
i have limits...
oh no: no limits in terms of drinking:
i start i turn into a leech...
i'm sober i'm a judge... a ******* evalengelist!
but i start sniffing a bottle of whiskey?

last night... i felt the heat coming...
i thought: better go into the garden and fall to sleep...
what did i do?
saving that wasp from drowning created
a strange wind... i tangoed too short...
i was blown off my feet: and i didn't even
drink that much... the strange wind threw me
off my feet and into my dear fig tree...
i woke up: oh, i didn't drink that much...
i completely forgot about the fig tree...
i broke the poor girl in half...
i spent today taping her up...
two bamboo stalks inserted into the ground
to correct her "height" and "composure":

mind you? my apple tree... she's CWAZZY...
she-he produced so much apples... tasty...
ultra tasty... that she became a hunchback...
she-he produced so many apples that she broke up...
huh! ancient Romans throwing themselves
into nettle bushes while i save a wasp from
drowning and some strange wind throws me onto
my dear fig tree... ****'s sake:
more nights like that!

i'm thinking... i have never used a dating app...
what's on offer?
single mums and cheating wives...
wow... well: i was never fond of virgins to begin with...
you need to try the entire spectrum...
but i'm thinking: adultery:
but with prostitutes: i like "sloppy seconds"...
i have an "agenda": one of my front wheel's spokes snapped
when i left my bicycle in the sun for too long...
****: i have to take the bus...

i like sloppy seconds...
but i'm thinking... about the kids...
perhaps it's time to unleash the beast...
if women are vacating themselves so freely:
apparently the website they're using is not giving them
enough traction that they have resorted to exploring Twitter
and i never used that website...
well: cheaper for me:
i wonder who's the bigger sadist of the pair of us...
i wonder...
i think i'll tackle the challenge...
why? the website stresses: casual hook-ups...
yeah...
           women just casually hook up...
i'll try it when then school-season reopens...
i'll just test it to test the mantra...
     no attachment? no relationships?!
so... elevated stances of prostitution?
             cool cool... i'll figure that one out
pretty soon...
i'll see how long they can go for on the basis of ONLY ***...
i'd like to see...
before i arrive at the origami heart:
ori (folding)... paper (kami) heart (hāto)  
オリカミ  ハート
   ガ: a "rendaku" also exists in English...
    somewhere between theta and phi...
                          although: al-VOU(gh)...
ha! found it!
                      THE: V'eh point!
                  it's not: i THought not so... no?

English slobs and their ******* graffiti culinary
mishaps... i know this language in-and-out
and i'm going to play the Joker with it!
see my smile? i'm pretty sure you haven't missed it yet...
i too can play games...
hide-and-seek of language...
look at a letter long enough and then bark...
i'll chase down the echo in the cave that's
this universe...

Batman won't mind...
i'm bored of brothels... after that *******
i became bored...
after Khadija: Muhammad was
illiterate, wasn't he? so... he didn't write the Koran?
did he? who was literate in his life
when Mecca banished him to Medina?
his older wife... Khadija:
the smart woman with mathematical and letter
acumen: a woman wrote the Koran...

she had to... no one else would listen
to the ramblings of a madman...
i bet she's turning in her grave by now...
funny: i ****** a Turkish ******* by the same name...
maybe reincarnation than i previously thought:
perhaps i ****** Muhammad's ol' ball and chain
in the year 2022...
i very much wish i have...
i think a woman of her calibre would like
a literate man to be a sort of dog sleeping
by her bed while she slept in the bed:
like Ilona Osa- once slept in my bedroom...
i gave her the entire bed while i slept on the floor
and gave her my hand to cling to...

Ovid was right: erotica is warfare akin to espionage...
the Russians know what a honey trap is...
what am i using? what am i protecting?
i always remember to forget...
oh... right... i'd love for a 2nd schism in Islam...
spearheaded by the Turks...
why? "i" feel like it... the universe feels like it:
by now there have been so many schisms
in Christianity it makes no sense
in treating it like a monotheism:
it's a polytheistic joke... and a monotheistic joke too...
like i said: Jesus: being the lord of Mosquitos:
was the greatest troll Hell ever produced...
lord of mosquitos? wine not blood all of a sudden?!

i can see the flag! white... red... purple!
just like i can decipher the colours of the flag
of Ukraine: blue skies above...
and the yellow booming harvest of wheat below...
like i can see the colours speaking to me
in ******: white peace above (contradiction)...
fuelled by ****** fields of red of blood spilled
to achieve the white doves above...
Germany? black skies: red: blood forever spilled...
yellow? eh... German efficiency...
we can go on forever like this...

namely? i can, become... very ******* superstitious:
i can abandon all hope for reason
and for the study of science on a whim:
gladly: gladly...
i just... adore the plethora that doubt creates...
the plethora of emotions that doubt can
only create while the pinnacle of NEGATION
if can simply: eh... negate...
seeing how the applied modern jurisprudence
is predicated on a defence mechanism of:
negation, i.e. innocent until proven guilty...
ooh... i can have: SO MUCH... FUN with this!

and each time i'm being asked to find a cure...
cure for what? curation? it's like Hey-Susie
once stated: doctor! cure yourself!
i've found a "coping mechanisation":
sure, i drink... but i drink to pick a fight?
i drink to excesses not bound to man...
a litre of whiskey each night every night
for three weeks solid:
some poor ****** with "12 years of career-experience
as a steward" at public events gets obliterated
by my lack of "experience" and for that matter
qualifications... circa 6 months in and i'm
given command... of 15 people...
i'm not even boasting:
i'm running into fig trees: breaking them...
i'm chasing rats... figuring:
that's just a giant moth: it's not a bat...
NIETOPERZ...

my garden ein welt... and the moon:
one source of light i'd gladly take anywhere...
into a pool of my own drowning...
light i'd love to bring with me into a heart
of a woman...
i salvaged a wasp from drowning:
that terrible birth of a parasite...
hmm! born by the antithesis of birth
of mammals! it eats its way out
of the host... no wonder i was thrown into
the fig tree by a "misstep"...

i much preferred salvaging the last breaths
of the bee... stroking its furry back...
easing its death by squeezing out the honey
onto my palm and seeing it die from a sugar-overload...
that was nice to watch: a bee dying in my hand...

i'm thinking about this website...
these desperate women...
**** it... when the school season opens up...
i might try it...
if the women are so brazen about their sexuality:
why shouldn't i?
the beast has been woken...
oh... the beast has been awake for much longer
than that...
i just needed for a curiosity to build up...
i've given crumbs / rations to
the Roma paupers... for the "rose"...
yeah... now that's done...
                      and i feel no moral obligations...
yeah? what now?
i'll have my: ******* FEAST!
sniff... sniff...
            
                   i just need to remember the rejection
by Ilona... Osa-...
             living in England... but having no access to
English girls...
is so?! why make complaints?!
accept your fate!
           i need to seek our these single-mothers
selling themselves off as prostitutes
without the same curiosity /
technicality of prostitutes:
i imagine most of them being terrible *****...
not that i have to:
reality just dictates this regard as being true...

but i have to try...
for the thrill of being the terrible "uncle" for some
poor pooch that should have required much better...
but, knowing me... i'll probably walk-out with a limp-****...
no... there's no fun in harming animals
as there's no fun in harming children...
i can't even cross the line with insects!
sure: i sometimes mishandle bread...
or spaghetti... i either overcook it or undercook it...
but children?! freely availiable *** from desperate
mothers?

i'll try... i'll try my best...
but i'm already imitating the shifts where i...
precursor the "advent" with:
automated regurgitation...
i just puke up...
                  i invest in milk: i puke up...
               i like the feeling of puking up...
i eat very little... i combat my "irritable bowels syndrome"
with regurgitation...
i puke up more than i am able to **** out...
i sometimes regurgitate the water invested in
being drunk...

dearest Ilona: my parents are freaks:
how they managed to be so coupled is still beyond me...
but we could have worked something out...
i see you now like i might see the night
and my shadow contrasted by it back then:
when... ah! water under the bridge...

yeah... i need to look into this freely available
economy of ****...
it's not going to be as pretty as
the anaesthetic of a brothel...
children being involved...
                           i'll just tease at the idea:
just tease at the idea...
i'll probably not go through with it...
                i tried the classical route:
oh, we met at work...
he brought me homemade wine and a banana loaf
he baked himself...
while i tried to get him fired...
yeah: that sort of route...
                  
my heart? what, does, it feel, now?
oh... you know:
like i can listen to the Davy Jones' theme from
Pirates of the Caribbean for 0 hours on a loop
and not feel, bored...
because? this, is, who, i have, become!
a properly decent: realist!
life's cruel: get on with it...
be nice to animals!
people make life difficult to fellow people...
get on with it!
                i hear one more: ******* complaint
i'm shutting my empathy: down!

oh no... it's not about making demands...
i'm just a careless free-be...
harmless "bystander":
at work no one expects me to live a double life
of literary adventures...
i like it that way...
i write: ******* children's literature...
i don't frequent brothels i don't counter
******* prostitutes with seeking out
single-mothers willing to play the role
of Mantis in the ******-coliseum!
no! no no! of course not!

                            but i am: willing to tease
a little... see what's happening: hear what's happening...
feel what's happening...
i need wasps for that...
bees are not enough!
and then i need to "accidently" fall into and break
a fig tree!
hell! the idiot apple tree provided too many fruits!
she was bent over like a hunchback from
the excess of weight!
i had to relieve her by making an apple crumble
today!
either too many fruits: or none at all!
trees these days!
i might as well fill my garden with herbs and spices...
mint... rosemary... bay leaves...
i already have these... thyme... that too...
wild garlic...

i wanted to love: so badly...
so wrongly: so righteously...
to imitate my father's love for my mother...
to even imitate my grandfather's love for my grandmother's
shortcomings...
i wanted to love so madly and endearingly...
best i didn't... it would have left me with
nothing but my own shortcomings to mind...
now it's only a matter of:
where the Mantis / Wasp imitation of woman
wills to take me...

where little Calypso of the heart is willing
to scrunch my heart up and
feed the river her paper swan toward either flower
of river or the disfavouring gust of breeze...
i wonder... where will little Calypso
****** upon me:
yet another unfavourable twist of fate?!
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2022
drama for queens

teenage boy is no
teenage girls' dream.   (502 bad gateway hack mobility, scooter)

i never know how the story goes, esp. this story: dentes qua stellae or whether it's stellae qua dentes i.e. teeth as being stars, or stars as being teeth... so much for the "son of man's" suffering upon the cross, there were plenty more horrible ways to die, i know for certain that "my" fellow countrymen in the late middle-ages preferred to impale culprit Ukrainians... they'd grease them up and impale them on a "1" / an "I"ota... so much concern for the suffering of the "son"... i'm pretty sure Zeus had "one too many"... but never in "question" is the suffering of the father... all those stars juxtaposed, into geometries and not geometries, if not an ideal sq. then most certainly a triangle, no circles in constellations... but it's abstract in a way that would be fiddly on paper... gods bend the rules for what's already here while men try to make sense of said bending of rules, men and gods meet halfway, there's a common language to be shared by both creatures... whoever was the dentist-sadist that was... i'm pretty sure my "father" endured more suffering than simply dangling from a cross... i see him now... like a worm from the planet Dune.... whirling in a gravitating darkness... himself the darkness and the gravitational pull of it... for each star upon the nightly heavens is his tooth... pulled out from his mouth... sure... a pretty grin... at first... a dissolving all blindening of light... but now? all his teeth have been pulled out and scattered in his mouth agape that's this vacuum of: no chew and no bite... how hungry he sits... unable to: nonetheless willing to sieve through every other living creature having its fill... long will it be before his teeth implode into "nothing" and are returned to his mouth... i'm guessing i should dream more often, only recently i encountered a dream from one of my ex-girlfriends, a Russian girl... she actually painted a picture of the dream... i was standing facing the third eye of her dream-architect backwards... a bit like Judas in one of those paintings of the Last Supper... i was holding a sword in my hand while she was kneeling and had her arms outstretched insinuating mercy... a kneeling woman in the form of a crucifix... but that was over 10 years ago... i found my shashka wooden sword over a year ago long before the Russia-Ukraine conflict started... i just stashed it waiting for the right moment to hang it on my wall... funny... i guess that's what happens when one doesn't dream... one create a reality from the dreams of others.... this interpretation of a dream of hers? i have, in a way, turned my back towards the west... in the grandiosity of dream-language i am standing over a kneeling Russia and refraining from using my sword... it makes sense that i dream of nothing... i just remember her giving me this picture she sketched... it looks like her dream came into fruition... but me standing with my face hidden... hell... i never liked the idea of the Russian being the scapegoat of the whole of humanity, this evil genius boogey-man... to isolate the Russians is like... a recipe for a perfect disaster... i was never inclined to make an Anglophone fetish for America... and i never will... the east is calling me... "my" people would rather wage war against each other than succumb to Western decadence... but at the same time i can't the Russian claim for defending Christianity: Christianity is indefensible to me with the emerge of the Naag Hammadi Library that coincides: almost precisely with the Matthias ben Josephus' account of the times, about an Egyptian False Prophet who attempted to sack Jerusalem, failed and fled back into the Egyptian desert... just by "coincidence" the Dead Sea Scrolls were found, the atom bomb exploded twice and was subsequently tested... too many ******* coincidences if you ask me... i don't feel or subsequently think i have any impetus for either western or eastern culture... i'm a no-culture culture... i'm sure i'll figure something out as i age (god permitting), for the time being i'm just hyper-focused on a second schism in Islam, spearheaded by the Turks... perhaps i'm mad... perhaps... but even the psychiatrists i met with discharged me as being free-thinking untamed... sure... they tried to medicate me, they did, i put on a lot of weight... then i stopped taking the "medication" and got my libido back, lost weight, cycled to Epping and elsewhere walked a marathon to St. Paul's and back... blah blah... am i mad or is it just that everyone is too ******* sane for anyone's willingness to enjoy life with a thrill?!

mmm hmm... traffic is bad on the internet,
someone explained it to me,
this 502 bad gateway phenomenon
i listed and heard the explanation like someone
might hear an echo... it sort of vibrates
a silence that has a second laugh when told:
you'll die...

that women are better at language than men
that men were supposedly better at science
and mathematics than women...
sure... i too am seeing seismic rearrangements
taking place...
given the change in industry...

i'm still serious about going into primary school
teaching...
when the scrutiny of my teaching ability
is out of the room and i'm well established
into my role... i'll teach them...
those gremlins... ha! you'll hear that the Europeans
arrived at the current numbers
from the Hindus and the Arabs from the Hindus
and we poor poor, pauper thinking northerners
were enlightened by the sands of squiggly
lines of ink!

ha ha! like **** we were...
the Ancient Romans used letters as both letters
and numbers! IV... what? not 4?
what's 4? i look at G and see a mirror and a
clockwise turning...
i see an 8 i see a B...
i see a 9 i see... a P...
                        iota for everyone eleven 11...
2 for a Z... S for every 5...
                        3 for every E...
7 for every L...
                               6 for every Bb...
0 for every Oh Oh Oh!

                 fake news... self-taught truths and the the world
can go to hell with the usurpers of my arrived at
figuring out how: to send a postcard from
a defunct Third *****... just a stamp will do...

much a bigger whirlwind than with the advent
of the 20th century... bigger?
well... the 20th century was the whirlwind,
the hurricane... the 21st century?
ha ha! it's going to be a butterfly!
you know about the butterfly effect...
the 21st century is going to be just that...
the horrible has already happened!
i'm just here to invigorate a metaphor of what could
have happened...

sure... white girls are staging a "coup d'état" of ***...
black guys... hell... i too find them handsome...
trouble is... i can't go down that little "Nile" of hers
to the equator for equal parallel...
i went east... to the lands of Gypsies and vampires
and Mongols and Orcs...
sorry girl... we were always disparaging creatures...

ofiaruje mojej dziewczinie... szlafrok w którym utonie...
przy świecach i koniaku...
po pas po szyje... piegi i policzki blade...
tak, tylko ona, jad jedwab...
ofiaruje... Hollandi morskie owoce...
dziwne przyprawy...
farbowane rzesy...

                      ofiaruje mojej dziewczynie:
rodzinki, krewetki, mandarinki!

i will offer my girl... a bathrobe in which she we drown,
before candles and cognac,
unto the waist unto the neck... freckles and pale cheeks...
yes, only her, like silk...
i will offer... Holland's sea-fruits...
strange spices...
dyed eyebrows...

i will offer my girl:
raisins, prawns, mandarins...

i lost myself in conversations...
only 2 weeks ago i watched two brown eagles
fight over a meal just above me
while i was doing something in the garden...
but lately... ever since doing shifts....

two brown eagles fighting over a meal
just above my garden... huh...
i was familiar with Parakeets lingering
at Bishops' Park Fulham...
i... today... not even today...
what the **** are three flocks of
Parakeets doing flying across my horizon
and garden included...
if i asked for Messerschmitts i'd ask for a cláwd (cloud)
of crows or a flock of woodland pigeons...
i would be asking for ******* parakeets!

the former is a Welsh take on things...
but i don't want to beat my own drum...
obviously the Scots are dreaming "big" in terms of
what's united and what's disunited...
we're living in funny times...
i'm starting to think the sclera in my eyes is
turning yellow from all the whiskey i'm drinking:
mind you: there are worse ways to die...
from drinking excessively and writing
originally...

as you age you realise: there's no Romeo in you:
but there was...
i know i had a Romeo in me...
then the splintering happens...
as you age you realise you need to learn juggling...
it's not exactly juggling if there's only one
women in your life...
you need at least 6... whether you **** them or
not is not part of the "plan"...
me? 5 i ****... and the rest?
i don't count... i'm more an anti-dyslexic
sort of guy rather than an arithmetic sort of guy...
i like: a, CLA-RI-TY OF SPE-LLING...

just today... i met up with Frankie...
a work colleague...
we tried talking for about 20 minutes not being
in uniform of either shirt and black tie
or black t-shirt and all things black...
i did stretch it that far along...
but it was ******* difficult...
we're already in our lanes...
we know our mistakes and we know
the sort of people we can replicate these mistakes
with... ergo: we pursue the sort of people
we can make the same mistakes with...
even though: as a man?
i can't exactly become pregnant either the first
or second time, actually: never...
prostitutes wouldn't make that sort of
mistake of trying to get alimony from
a pundit...

         ergo? before feminism... i was telling
these two girls are work...
my grandfather mentioned that back in the day...
in a little nation known as Poland...
the sort of cousin of the rebirth of Israel...
there was this "thing" known as: Bachelors' Tax...
oh yeah... Bachelors used to pay a tax
on them remaining single,
it was called a BASIORY...

and i would be paying that sort of tax for...
exactly what? tax freebies of western single mothers?!
me?! getting a council house / flat?!
as a man?
**** me... i'll need to grow a womb and pop
a hungry brat out for myself to use as TOOL...
oh i'm not bitter...
sure... i live with my parents...
but i take care of them...
plus i drink to excess and write to excess
when they're asleep:
it's an unhealthy healthy relationship...
i do most of the cleaning and the cooking...
i dreamed of one day following the Biblical quip
of breaking away...
but then i saw what that entailed...

you marry a woman: you break away from your mother
and father... you abandon them...
you marry a woman... and?
you get a ******* mother and father in-law...
GREAT! ******* all ten (are) thumbs up!
that's just ******* brilliant! sign me up!
no...
         if that is the fate of man...
i'm in no way part of being a man...
i want to be an aman...
                                i was so close to bagging this
deal... the overtly friendly in-laws...
the woman... well... in the biological: mammalian
sense... she wouldn't... do the mantis ****
during *******...
she would just **** you years later...
replacing your mother and father with her father
and mother...

i ******* ran as quickly as my mind allowed
and my legs couldn't provide when she first
performed oral *** on me...
the words: what would father think...
what?!                       is that supposed to be:
a ******* "turn-on"?
  what you dada-tink?!
                                                    y­ou what?!
you just told me what i would "think" if
you'd think what it would be like
for you giving you actual father oral ***...
basically... un-basically basically:
well: ma'am used to the be spy "code word"...
in a queer world... qua is the new ma'am...

i purged my former ****** experiences
within the puritanical uninhibited experiences with
prostitutes...
i came out? rather unscathed...
i accustomed myself to sitting across at least
5... all of which i ******...
sort of glittering with an aura of:
dentes qua stellae!

that teeth could become stars...
each time i see a migrating star
i conjure up the passion of one of my own
being uprooted from my jaw and
bone licking, straight out of Belgium's
flat-land-demand!
to hell with these chocalatiers!
it's Belgium: currently the heartland of Europe...
otherwise a non-country...
certainly nothing geographically worth minding!
it is! it isn't!
who gives a **** or a white shirt's worth of minding!

of all the philosophy books...
so few write about ***...
   actually: none do... Platonic love my ***...
which ought to have been written by a homosexual...
but then there's that extreme with Marquis de Sade...
i'd rather write about ***
than actually utter a single word during *******...
i refrain: yet still they come
cackling with: ooh... you're tiny... jokingly...
actual *** is so much more interesting
than what ******* has to offer...
******* is acting! *** is anti-acting...
it's the one view of what
upstaging the Thespian Tyranny can ever look like!
the only way to attack the Thespian Tyranny
is to attack the asexual pornographic actors!
they're ******* actors! literally!
they're ******* ******* actors!
they "enjoy" *** on the basis of PRETEND...
me? i love *******...
i'm already gearing up for Thursday...
i'm doing two days of bashing the bishop
without ****** to get the blood flowing...
i need to starve and excite myself
at least 2 days prior to *******...
my ***** are tingling and so is my *******
while i write this...

i need to perform! if i don't perform
i won't be smoking that hash Frankie gave me
after ***...
oh... i'm not young and stupid (again) enough
to smoke and write something...
i'm going to go straight to bed
and have my head massaged by a H. P. Lovecraft's
octopus horror godhead...
because i **** Gypsy girls...
Gypsy or Turkish? whichever...
   as much as i'd love a blonde... hell...
  if you don't have what you like...
might as well like what you have...

                           i'm currently surprising myself
with what i just sent my coworker
in a private message.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
title: snuggle
body:
limitless
loss
of sleep    another 502 bad gateway bypass...
i just want to love like...
Edward Scissorhands... Ice Dance song...
playing in the background...
we meet in a graveyard... at night...
and it's snowing... it's snowing ballerinas...
ah... the impossible...
well then... no point blaming ****** omelettes
on prostitutes... either.


100 hundred press ups...
stomach crunches?
   n'ah... i don't feel like it...
yesterday i woke up with my ****-cheeks
aching... they were still aching
today... i thought... better firm them
up a little... 2 hours of cycling ought
to do it, just shy of Rainham via
and back again via Hornchurch...
well... can't say that it helped...
but why bother doing stomach crunches?
i woke up today with my entire
torso aching... like i must have done...
1000 stomach crunches...
well... that's what having ***
in the ******* will do to you
while you're propped up on your
hands above a woman...
more ***... less of that stomach crunches
exercise... press ups: sure...
i'll keep doing those...
   mind you: i never go mad on lifting weights...
i have these two... handle bars?
whatever you call them... how much is on each...
15kg? maybe more... i do about 20 folds
on my knees... but i'm after the adrenaline
in traffic on the bicycle...
   to my demise... i started thinking about Jeminah...
looked her up on facebook...
pretending: it's a bit like me sitting
pitch-side at a football match looking at
faces in the crowd...
my god... you can really stare at people
in a non-creepy way... looking out primarily
for a potential heard-attack...
but if a pretty girl is sitting in the crowd...
you can just put on a poker face
and... no one is going to tell you:
hey! creep! stop staring!
                        it's actually more fun than
watching the actual football match...
if i get to see Khedra enough times i'm sitting pretty
on getting something remotely resembling
a six-pack... not that a six-pack would
look good if you are hairy...
        and i'm not going to just shave, wax...
metro-sexualise myself...
but that got me thinking...
            positive... is this even thinking? perhaps
more like gloating... but... what's the alternative?
wallowing? the plethora of emotions surrounding
doubt? self-denial: the ascetic approach?
can people on write about... denying themselves
an iota of self-appreciation?
in an age of self-employed people...
i'm pretty sure can attach a Dune-esque
self- prefix to what the mythos of Dune describes
as: thinking machines... machina cogitans...
that was always my pet peeve with philosophy...
the words: thing, nothing, something...
broad generalisations... or rather... words that
would make thinking along the lines of 1 + 1 = 2
in language much easier...
                         i am a machine of sorts...
another pet word: being...
       breaking down existence: ex-instance...
or... out-of-every-instance: insistence...
                     not will as such: more akin
to stubbornness... this mortal plea: one more day...
one more hour...
    in Latin that would be...
    out-of-every-instance: insistence (remember though,
the Romans didn't have all the prepositions /
conjunction words that modern English has)
    ex-omni-exemplum: instantiam...
             res cogitans is so vague...
given i have a scratch of consciousness regarding...
the schematic of my body...
i know my muscles in my torso ache...
not because i was doing stomach crunches...
but because i was arching over a woman
performing *** in a *******...
my brain aches from dehydration... i take a pill...
points of concern like so...
      eh... the atomised man...
then again: another "thing" to cut up his mind
with the instrument that i call the quasi-soul...
so stressed by psychology... oh hell...
when medicine sped up to get its whereabouts
with the human body... obviously the psychologists:
"doctors"... psychiatry and its hellish freaks
of instructed lobotomies... oh... one of those
***** envies... they had to cut up a man's mind into:
well, not halves... that's sure as ****...
a ******* Trinity... but like the profanity that's
Christianity... joke... how many schisms can
Christianity... accommodate? from what i heard...
an infinite number of schisms...
by that account... me prodding at a possible
2nd schism in Islam... spearheaded by the Turks
and not the Persians... hmm...
   well... Christianity is a Babel by now...
   i don't really have a criticism of Christianity...
i already had mine... when i was much younger...
a child... Nietzsche already did the "intellectual"
heavy-lifting... i remember being a child
and being confronted with the... if your enemy strikes
you... turn the other cheek...
some primordial argument arose in me...
that's ******* counter intuitive! i'll hit back!
i might not hit back: immediately... obviously...
i might take some time... get hold of the bigger picture...
explore... more avenues...
    but... that's so ******* counter-intuitive...
plus... i didn't take up the option of being confirmed...
confirmation is big in Catholicism:
you can't have a church wedding without being
confirmed... there... that's my "intellectual" take-down
of Christianity... but...
what did Christianity do? well... it turned European
barbarism into... European secularism...
that's all it did... but not that it would ever tame
the barbarism... as... plenty of examples...
plus... the New Testament? to me?
Greco-Judeo propaganda... esp. with the unearhing
of the Nag Hammadi library... in some cave...
in Egypt... and the scribbles of...
some Egyptian false prophet... trying to conquer
Jerusalem, but then retreating... found in...
a book about the Roman Hebrew wars...
by josephus ben matthias... or... as he was later known:
by the proselyte name: flavius josephus...
i almost feel sorry for Nietzsche: with hindsight...
because there's always that aspect of hindsight...
which... the finding came in 1945...
simultaneously... the finding of the dead sea scrolls...
which compiled the lost works of...
Isaiah? right... Hey-Zeus was crucified...
but i read somewhere that... Isaiah was...
eventually... cut in half... at the torso...
hmm... well... peanuts or bananas...
which is worse, if you're allergic to either?
i've had my criticism of Christianity... on a level of
a child... i don't need to elaborate on it...
that it breeds weakness... love is a weakness...
until i met either Jeminah or Khedra...
i had a heart of stone...
          now? i'd still love to get together with
Jeminah... drink some wine... listen to a New Order
record on vinyl...
i got the picture... she was showing me this book
of old, historical Romford...
well... she gave it to me... standing over me...
i asked her: why don't you sit down next to me?
talk me through it?
  she did... ha ha... on our whatsapp exchange
i sent her a link to: foster the people - sit next to me...
she did sit down, slightly reluctantly...
my god... the moment the recoil happened...
i must have "accidently" touched her knuckle
with my finger... phoom! the ******* Challenger
space shuttle disaster! she sort of bounced off
two walls and then the ceiling and was sitting
far far away on the other couch...
but then there's Khedra... the ***** that made
my ****-cheeks ache and my torso attempting
to have six-pack ambitions...
yeah... well... it's a bit different when you see
footballers "taking the knee" on a football pitch
for "some cause"... a bit different when you're
taking a knee... stark naked... before a woman...
just to be level-eye with her...
and... just... you know... fiddly-do-b'ah...
   whatever... oh... i can kneel before a *******...
kiss her stomach... kiss her feet...
i think that's a better altar than...
pretending to **** **** before the altar
of ZEE CRUCI-VIED 'UN...
             magic ******* numbers!
                       yeah... Greco-Hebrew propaganda
against the Roman Empire...
that's what the New Testament is to me...
to go one further... i already mentioned this...
Ba'al Yah'****... lord of mosquitos...
what... turning water into wine...
and wine into blood... is not some infernal metaphorical
device? oh sure... Hey-Zeus was like...
the biggest troll out of hell...
         how did i remedy the spell?
once... i poured myself a glass of wine... ****** in it...
then drank it... MAH-AH-GIC!
a bit like those guys in World War I...
when the mustard gas fell... ******* on handkerchiefs...
the ammonia... purifying the smell of rotten
eggs... blah blah...
then again: why am i writing this?
am i happy? or do i... haven't got anything better
to write? or... perhaps this is easy?
imagine introducing the concept of Ba'al Yah'****
into Islam... to the Turks... hmm...
do you... perhaps think... the Turks might splinter
off... from the prior orthodoxy and heresy
of the Persians? reasoned with?
hmm... they do allow alcohol...
                      and they have the best barbers...
plus... the women? **** like they might be
from the harem of king Solomon...
*** starved... since... not even king Solomon had
the sort of stamina to **** over 1000 women...
if he did... he must have been an ******...
or at least... he wasn't ******* anything by
the end of a session... ergo... trophies... ***-starved
single men... and women... also *** starved...
with... perhaps... very crude ideas of the original ******...
then again... when was a cucumber cultivated,
proper?
sure... look up that josephus ben matthias ref.
regarding the false prophet from Egypt...
wait... wait... didn't Joseph take Mary and Hey-Zeus
to Egypt, the flight to Egypt?
sure... the historian was born circa... 32 AD...
but this is at the time of... NO INTERNET...
    imagine... what it must have taken...
to establish a YEAR ZERO...
                         wow... the amount of work that
went into that... few years... even a 100 could
go missing... just... "missing"...
   the fact being: this prophet wanted to overthrow
Roman rule of Judea: failed... fled back to
Egypt... and where was the Nag Hammadi library
found? in a cave, in Egypt...
just as the theatre of war of World War II was
coming to an end, come 1945... sure...
just "coincidental"... Ba'al Ya'**** had his fun...
not exactly endowed to please women...
abstain from this...
   if the modern girls want their... ahem... feminist war...
on men... sure... let them come...
today i perfect my mango curry...
i started to use whole piece of chicken... on the bone...
today it was drumsticks...
i marinated them in... yougurt...
turmeric... Kashmiri chilly powder...
coriander and cumin powder...
then i baked them...
   i had a spare mango... but already preprepared
mango curry sauce...
****... run out of garam masala...
but i made this other... curry powder...
strike me down i don't remember what i used...
a teaspoon of this curry powder...
some korma curry powder... some more
coriander powder... some more cumin powder...
a third of a teaspoon of clove powder...
some more Kashmiri chilly powder...
some more turmeric... put the heat right on...
to infuse the powders with the chicken stock
and the coconut milk... bay leaves...
taken out before blitzing with the onions
the ginger and the garlic... some peppercorns...
oh... and nigella seeds... a must...
some raisins... and a splash of apple cider vinegar...
yo! Faust! we're cooking! Faust... mate...
we're cooking tonight... sorry to disappoint you...
but tomorrow we're having fish & chips...
from where? Lighthouse Fish & Chips...
145 Heath Park Road, Gidea Park, Romford...
   RM2 5XJ... the best fish and chips you'll ever get...
trust me... i'm endorsing them...
Faust... what's that? chaos... oh... don't worry...
you'll get to the thrills...
there are plenty to come...
  look at me... i'm trying to juggle two women at
once... one... Turkish: a bomb in bed...
wants to meet outside of the brothel...
in a hotel room... "talk"... "improve her English"...
just wants to **** for the whole night...
sure... we'll go for food... me-be even a moo-v...
the other... a shy doe... but that dark tinge of ginger
that's just irritating to the *****...
Faust... curry come this Saturday...
yes, yes... the mango version of a korma...
more spicy... certainly no almonds so not as bland:
more acidic... no... i'm not going to infuse
the rice with turmeric... how much yellow do you
want on a plate? yes, i'll add the peppers...
for a bit of crunch... garnish?
fresh coriander... sure... i don't think anyone
will be asking for extra yoghurt...
   (burp)...
                   and you remember that "other" girl...
the friend of the manicurist that comes to see your mother...
she just tags along... she has a "thing" for Scandinavian
aesthetics on a man...
     nervous as hell: esp. when you peer into
her eyes and then peer at her face...
so much make-up... a body of crumbs... petite...
if you had *** with her: you'd crush her...
but this manicurist brings her daughter along...
you were talking in the garden while holding
this toddler in your hands... exposing her
to the sunlight... from time to time...
gripping the exposed feet of the toddler in
your hands: to warm them up...
you introduced this girl to the music
of the band Ghost... you spoke about wishing
to die on the Faroe Islands...
like it was your place of birth... well... isn't death
just that? a man's actual birth? a completion
for time to ascend toward a forwardness of
the spectacle? ugh... verbiage... unavoidable...
but who the hell just wants soap opera:
uncomplicated vector simplistic language of
purely: verbs... some nouns?
no... no etymology? wow... what a chunk of
history just: ****! gone! back to the analysis
of the comparisons of the ape to human skeleton...
**** similis is an ancient idea... there's nothing
new about it... nothing has changed...
because it's not supposed to...
                and what did it take?
my doctor's concern about my high blood pressure...
you either lose weight... or we're going to put you
on high blood pressure tablets...
**** that... you already miscalculated
by putting me on anti-psychotic drugs...
which made me put on weight...
i took myself off them... you have any...
actual.... counter-insomnia medication?
phenergan? sure... i'll take those... once in a while...
i'll stick to Naproxen and APAP...
and whiskey...
        though...
               wow... what a world changer...
giddy school girls... bro'... n'ah...
  not enough experience... they're just posturing
self-assurance... i'm after the mandible jaws...
but imagine... from a time when someone like...
Brautigan... no, not Brautigan...
       Berrigan... no... not him... ****... it does start
with a B, though... hmm... B... Berryman! John!
that's the one... how many marriages... how many
divorces... not that i'm counting myself...
                     oh, we're ******... esp. ****** right now...
it was possible back then...
but now? one ****-tease after another...
   thank god i chose to not have money...
i'd look like a complete idiot if i was honey-trapped...
because i might have money...
then again: i think i have money...
sure... gold standard... from IMPERIAL RUSSIA...
coins... stamps from elsewhere...
a ******* banknote from IMPERIAL RUSSIA with
Nicholas II's face on it...
   hell... i'll keep it until times becomes really
desperate... but? until then... when they find my body...
and they find that... i'll spin the myth...
i like seeing how people treat people...
depending on their social stratum...
i stopped watching movies...
                  hmm...
                              let's see some more...
high value man: the high earner... "alpha"...
well... fair enough... for a society that's supposed
to follow the lineage of the words:
i'm the alpha and the omega...
                    it's nice being on the outside: looking in...
my supposed value gets a direct translation...
prostitutes are like: the gold standard... or the FIAT...
not being demeaning...
but the money i give them: i wouldn't spend...
on... anything they might spend it on...
if i spent money like i do... Scotland would be
a Switzerland...
but, hell... if all these videos i've watched... are true?
if women want to bring the fight...
with what? i iron my own shirts... i cook my own meals...
i vacuum my own house...
i don't think there's a bargaining chip in sight...
and ***? i just found the best *** in my life...
*** so good that even she thinks it's not fair me paying
for only an hour... she wants to meet in a hotel...
for the whole night... "talk"...
so... Sartre mentions this...
   i'm still in the realm of skim-reading... the entry
points... the freedoms we have as individuals...
and how we express them...
                         i'm not willing to be a wage-slave for
someone to spend that money on...
something non-essential... because...
i call it the LIBIDO FACTOR... well... there's only
this amount of farmers we can have...
there's only this amount of metallurgy factory workers
we can have... beyond that?
attention seeking ******?
freely passing money around?
for what? ****'s sake... CONTENT?!
what.... CONTENT?!
                 it's not that there's too many people in
this world... per se... it's that...
there's enough people to have figured out
what to do... at this point...
i think we're going to run dry on ideas on...
what people can do... beside: plagiarise, steal...
and generally turn towards crime...
which is... a bonus for me...
         i'll have freely available clones... pawns...
should push come to shove...
i know what i'll have at my disposal... clones...
pawns... it's rather beautiful...
******* mind-drones... ditto-heads...
                 but then again... i'm not the one prone
to dream up architecture for a Freud-type
to interpret... all i dream of is a void...
sometimes a word pierces it...
                         no... no symbolism of a big hat...
or a cucumber... simply... NO-THING...
zilch... nada...
   yes... i've watched these supposed "alpha" males...
they're... always... weirdly... over-compensating
for a... hidden deficiency...
they are always posturing... they always seem
to be: eagerly disposing a set of rubrics of anger...
of... awaiting violence...
in a crowd of people... they never manage
to: get the jyst of "things"...
    weird... weird as ****... you know when you can
smell fear: sniff.... sniff... hmm.... i smell something...
it's a bit different when you find an
example that's... posturing... oh... a very different
sort of fear... not a fear from a direct attack....
"beta" males don't give off this vibe...
there's always some variation of a protector....
but these "alpha" males... oh... their fear is born
from... being... undermined...
sabotaged... it's thrilling to watch...
                                      why wouldn't it be thrilling?
it's like that scene from Hotel Transylvania...
when that old lady gremlin swallows something,
shaking, says... i didn't do it...
it wasn't me...
            and they get all hyped up...
become so talkative...
                         yawn...
                      i get scared too... i sometimes jolt back
when seeing a random hallucination in the night...
wait! ****! that's not my shadow...
oh... right... it just maybe is...
        ha ha... they had to go through all that
crap of building up resources...
seeking the "****** bride"...
                 me? what supposed artist gets rich
in his lifetime? i'm investing in...
post-humous legacy...
    i sought value in society's lowest ebb...
among prostitutes...
and what treasures i found there...
certainly no hook-up culture: mentality...
    i can kneel naked before a naked body of a woman
and... if i'd like: **** on the crucifix...
because? by now... i can...
with Christianity and its forever schismatism...
orthodox, catholic, protestant, baptist, blah blah...
whatever... i'm thinking about making Islam endure...
like a Janissary might... or a... Mamluk...
**** me... i'm willing...
                   but there needs to be a splinter...
one... there the Turks take over...
i already established the ground work...
Hey-Zeus? Ba'al Yah'****...
                  there's nothing for me here...
  nothing worth the life i'd want to life...
                           but i'll kneel before the altar of
a ******* standing before me naked...
while i'm kneeling naked myself...
and my eyes come level with her chin...
       time for change....
                     even if i die forgotten...
most people who accumulate wealth are forgotten...
now... that all depends... on the wealth
of my idea... could it be the proper probe...
let the court of time: decide;
i'm still going to enjoy the remains
of this whiskey... whether anyone likes it....
or not.
also unknown as (D. Lucian Null)

Sprung from the best
     over active imagination damnedest
confection of this fictitious
     writer of fiction earnest

and frankly hoof
     avers zealous zest
(with sud'n soap er
     ream conviction, undressed

     compunction, and
     especially divine collusion),
who proudly didst wrest
(however wrung er...

     right), the presidency, (you guessed
correctly) from the ghostly
     buster of Honoré d Balzac
     ("FAKE alias Hillary Clinton),

     and bankrolled by Univest
in coordination with
     Ham R. Sickle, lest
     who didst hack private emails

     of said Democratic contender
     (during the 2016 presidential election)
     successfully, and sufficiently
     (amidst sudden unrest)

did (ill) legally
     nominally sought after
     highest stakes political con test
the dub bait hubble,

     and admits rigged
     a satisfactory farrago,
     which predictably suppressed
any fat (or slim)

     chance (Hill's Billy) more unlikely
     getting struck by lightening,
     while climbing Mount Everest),
which non barren smugness

     of mine brought elation, messed
up supposedly clinched Clinton win,
     whence foretold by gerrymandered
Oracle of Delphi, which

     prophetess imp pressed
particularly how nefarious nest
of thieves spearheaded, schemed,
     and sabotaged visa vis

     ex post facto American government
     didst discover sinister, sly, and
     "NON FAKE"
     surreptitious shenanigans

which laughably vaunted
     I accord to Trump
     "stupid, weak, lightweight"
     Central Intelligence Agency.
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2022
oh man, it really doesn't help...
however many marathons you walk...
how many 50 mile roundabouts you ride,
how much might swim...
being *** starved...
mein gott!
             i never knew i had these muscles...
my body is aching...
i feel like i've been punched in the jaw
on repeat for about an hour:
chewing was problematic today...
i should **** more often,
which implies: i'll have to earn more...
no, no dating... **** that bolloicks...
i'm here for the transparency...
and esp. with women from cultures
that respect the status of men...
where women are women
and men are men...
    but it feels good... she likes being slapped
on the *** while we're performing *******...
while she tells me to look into the mirror
to catch ou a ******...
sure, i know the "syndrome":
most guys put it down on paper, as the narrator...
but i imagine most women want to be ******
by two guys while having a third *******
while she contorts her face...
well... fourth... apparently a woman has  avenues
of access points...
she is really into the three-dimensional
dynamics...
mind you... tomorrow my toy is coming...
i still hope she mimics me... clucks when i cluck...
pokes my nose... pulls my beard...
what music will i put on... what toys
will i provide her...
i might get the guitar out and play her...
Silverchair's.... Shade...
perhaps Eric Clapton's Layla... really slowly...
or Black Sabbath's Solitude...
my new favourite woman... barely 1 year old...
lucky me...
get in early... i've already taught her some
that come prior to the first word...
the katakana... she didn't say papa... dada...
mama... she mimicked my cluck...
my pluck... i stole her...
                            she's my toy... my little Frankenstein...
whenever i see her... i'm going to mould her
in my own image...
there's no argument... the argument has already
been settled... she's reciprocating to me...

oh man... i'm aching... i had to stretch for an hour
having discovered these new muscles
from having performed ***...
why is my jaw hurting though?
i didn't punch myself... was i kissing Khedra too much?
i must have... and while all my coworkers
go back home to spouses and what not...
i haunt the streets and go into brothels...
i have children on a loan...
         eh... too much of a good thing: i can imagine
it can be tedious... you need a diet...
fasting... last time i ******... 4 months ago?

brilliant when you're starving...
because there are always other things to focus on...
but when it happens?
oh... it's spectacular...
            my jaw is still hurting... she's asking for tips...
sure... to slobber and oyster of a **** i'll pay extra...
after the 1st of March... i'll be at it, once more...
i just can't see when i remember
her face contorting like it did... tongue waggling...
primordial...
        ancient human being...
              not that it felt weird... i just felt out of place
with the general pedestrian mentality
of keeping an English sensibility of: coordinating
practices trans-professional...
you get me?

when you see someone in their essence...
she's waggling her tongue like a demon...
  during *******... you jump in with a slobber of lips
and kiss her...
              all praise on her wanting to give me
unprotected ***...
can't go wrong with that... my phallus and *******
still feels tingling like a ******... even now...

dating... ha! my ***... what's the point of this...
western cultural fetish?
       why would i want to... "date" someone?
why not bypass eating the **** food and just getting
busy with a decent amount of ****?!
i don't see the point... perhaps my "logic" is
off the radar... perhaps cultural differences...
sorry... i'm not buying it...
  like i'm not buying: paying for *** but also paying for
lies... or the trickle of the first ******* i snorted:
that... maybe that's why i feel like i've been punched
in the jaw... several times... and not my me:
giving myself a black eye....
so i compared her to the first wife of Muhammad...
oh, you know, the literate woman, who wrote the first
Surahs of the Quruan...
my other tenet? Jesus... ADON SHEL YATOOSH..
you're saying a **** from hell can't see
a **** from hell? the one that displaced his
people for 200- or so... years?!
this is my demand for the third party of Islam...
even she said it: inshallah...
Adon Shel Yatoosh: Jesus...
      Led Zeppelin: no quarter...
believe me when i say: i don't be near being found
killing flies... but mosquitos?!
turning blood into wine... turning wine into blood...
probably hell's greatest asset... the crucified one...
a... son of the Elohim...
        i'm looking forward to a third branch
of Islam... spearheaded by the Turks...
forget the Arabs... the Persians... they're their
own people... i'm looking at the Turks...
where to start? with the prostitutes!
              where else? the *******, plumbers?!
n'ah... n'ah... you start with the dejected...
with the down-trodden...
but you start... because you: authentically give
a **** about them...
and i do... within the hierarchy of moral
authority... the women supposedly higher up...
single mums... with grievances...
domestic violence blah blahs... sorry...
no... put me in shackles with the prostitutes...
these women are not worth it...
i prefer the transparency of prostitutes...
at least among the Turkish ones
i can kiss their hands... open the door for them...
allow myself to excuse not having *******...
i can be a man among men...
while women can be women among women...
i can slap her *** while we're performing *******
***...
   i can bite her... i can pinch her...
get married? to what? i'm not even going to stress: who...
is it even going to be a person, or an asset loss?!

there needs to be a third branch of Islam...
i entrust te Turks to spearhead this incentive...
no... the Arabs have too much money and are
too debased... perverted...
the Persians are too... well... Persian...
but the Turks have for a long while been
tourists in the Balkans... so they know a little bit of
Europe... plus... they "thought" it necessary to acquire
the Latin script... so... plus plus...
and the best ******* barbers around...
barbers... this one ******* you leave to me...
she gave me her phone number...
she asked me, personally...
                   of course i'll be there... not over-worked...
sober... don't worry about me not climaxing...
i don't mind about climaxing...
i would truly mind... seriously mind:
what's up with this beard trim?!
what's up with this haircut?!
getting a ******* and having dog-fun and me not *******
is, what, somehow a priority?!
no... it's not...
i don't care... i just like your company...
i want to keep it...
i want to keep it forever...
why? because... you... you...
somehow matter for me...

           can't a man enjoy a woman's company
fo4 no clarifying reason other than
the reason for company in itself?!
  as long as she's not licking my face... i'm good..
she can create a telepathic oyster of a tongue...
waggling... imagery of a slur...
sure... she can get away with that: no licking
of the face... the dog can lick my ears...
i'll do the licking... i'll pay extra... for that oyster...
bouquet of a floral pattern of flesh of a ****...
i will... but i
***... great... esp. when you don't get enough
of it... esp. best when you pay for it!
paying for it sort of figures out all the middle
men of the dynamics...
what date? what cinema?
what food in a restaurant?
    do you really need Bolsheviks by now?!
eh? i thought the whole thing was about to implode,
then again: best to be wrong then everything
looks... sort of... noormal.
Mateuš Conrad May 2022
precursor:

it was such a lovely day...
i was admiring the eucalyptus and the sky...
the moon... and the forever blue of the sky...
i just spent three hours boxing
with a 502 bad gateway error message...

i'm ******* livid.... intellectually exhausted...
i had to splinter my poem into
two parts....

eine fünf tag projekt (teil zwei)
and eine fünf tag projekt...
i hate it...
it's good to hate: it keeps one invigorated...
i had much better plans for
today....

/

      remains of last night's fiddling about: alas!
no violin!
      more a horse's hoof than a bow made
from a horse's mane...

the sun is becoming unbearable...
i abhor these months...
     sure, i might get a suntan...
enough vitamin D... turn into a camel-jockey
a copper-neck...
    a right proper pseudo-Arab...

but so much of the glorious night is replaced
by a dead-bone moon...
without its shine it's splendour...
so much of the glorious night has
been sacrificed for ******-botany to bloom!

ugh... and the insects stirred from the cocoons!
ugly months... joyous people basking
in carbon dioxide highs...

- i've had this thought for almost forever...
based on a single word... generic...
babies are generic... generic implying
the synonymous ascription toward: indistinguishable...
generic babies... generic old timers...
old people are like babies...
all are the same... look the same... smell the same...
behave the same...

the same goes for the really beautiful women...
well... "really" and "beautiful":
duck lips... botox... fake fans...
dolls... Barbie beauty...
     generic... indistinguishable... clone-party...

****'s sake... i think i need to go to an art exhibition...
i'm becoming cross-eyed...
there's a Walter Sickert exhibition at Tate Britain
until the 18th of September...

i need to look at something "ugly":
   uniqueness always comes in an "ugly" form...
it's not ugly ugly...
   it's not even repulsive... women can describe
ugly the best:
   a man they wouldn't **** while at the same
time fantasising about ******* a dog...
or a horse...
        
   "ugly" men: for me? Socrates and the whole bunch
of intellectuals...
Sartre... Serge Gainsbourg...
                 i'm sort of like a dog: a fantasy...
i never fall through...
           but at the same time i'm relieved from
not having any headaches...
  
              to be desired but to not be kept...
to have women think twice...
the last time she knew she couldn't handle me...
plus: i thought: she already has a boyfriend...
her son... as single motherhood goes...
she just couldn't translate boyhood into manhood
that she couldn't train, dictate over...

i'm sort of glad, very glad...
        hell... i'm very realistic!
                                     i mean: if i have fixated all
my efforts on a 2nd Schism in Islam...
spearheaded by the Turks...
                 what's the point of eating sardines
if you're aiming to eat a whale steak?!

i might get drunk each night:
   but i'm never really, truly drunk... thoughtless
or careless... there's an agenda... there's a plan...
the presence of Islam in Europe has always been
a net gain... after all: Islam requires some
rejuvenation... some intellectual oomph!
      
                   here's to pouring some of my *****
into the wine and drinking it...
    because what was once the splendour of
Christianity... the gallery of metaphors...
      has already touched something akin to
the philosopher's stone...
   what was once gold... has turned to ash...
and if people thought that Nietzsche
exhausted the critique...
                                          the time wasn't right...

now... at the zenith of nihilism...
                         now! the final nail in the coffin;
as stressed by Matthew, the Apostate.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
Charon:

churning memories
from a black
tide fleeing
   with a voice upon
the wind.

this is a perfect example of what happens when you're a "poet" and not a novelist and you take an entire day to finish some scribbles... i have a principle to follow... that's the uninterrupted pillar from Japan that's ensoo (i won't bother employing the macron o)... エンソ... drawing the circle in one smooth motion... i literally can tell you: the circle is there... but few can draw it perfectly without some variability to detail signatures of an ellipse... somewhere between Omicron and 0... squashing a doughnut... blah blah... i can't be a novelist... i figured out this impasse from the very beginning... i sit down... write... i'm out... i couldn't possibly interrupt myself with daydreaming and writing about drinking coffee, romancing the typewriter... well... beside the design of QWERTY... and... why is it that there are 2x shift buttons?! well... like the Marquis de Sade's uncle's library: of books to be read using only one arm... ahem... the other used to *******... when you're trying to type something verbatim... it makes perfect sense to have two shift buttons for the uppercase sentiment of aesthetic, esp. when employing italics...

well then... imagine my surprise...

ok baby
i tell you Sunday night
kiss (heart)

     (kiss)

come Sunday night...
i send her...

     ...

that's all i send...
and she replies...

    yes tomorrow i'm off

i seriously wasn't expecting that... i thought she was
going to dump me like Jemminah...
but then again: she's not an English girl...
she's not a European girl to say the least...
i too have my roots in the Caucaus steppes...
she's Turkic i'm a hybrid of Aryans and Mongols and
**** knows what... great... now i can plan
booking that hotel room...
             i am surprised... time to bend this universe
into a surprising night of love making...

reply:

yes tomorrow i'm off

i've found this one hotel in Barking with a Parkside view...
i'll make a booking in the morning / noon...
we can go for a meal at some restaurant...
i'll buy some brandy, or whiskey, proseco, strawberries...
once i book the room i'll text you and we can meet up,
how's that?

good baby
i mesaj to you when i'm up

   well then... until tomorrow (kiss)...

and that's how it should have been for... donkey's years...
i'm a woman... ****... ha ha... sorry...
i'm a man... she's a woman...
                          i give her what she wants...
she gives me what i want...
and what do both of us want?
    to escape the ugliness of this world...
the ugliness that's not inherent to this world per se...
well... beside gangrene, cancer... parasites...
people make this world ugly for other people...
we're here to make this world... slightly more bearable...
i stopped caring... she did too...
i'm a "poet" she's a "*******"...
                  but: we're not into the thrills of
                                    cheating on monogamous partners...
that's for the disappearing middle-classes of
"journalists"...
                  i'm done playing mr. nice...
i'm about to embark on playing the role of herr freiheit!
i want to resurrect myself into the memory
of myself climbing the rooftops of Edinburgh's
Prince's St. after yet another disappointing night out
dropping bricks from the roofs
and screaming an ancient call for war...
                                 i'm done with social standards...
hell... if everyone is breaking norms and etiquettes...
hmm... stand back? relax?
   n'ah... n'ah ah...
                                          i'll better them...
                      i'll destroy them...
                                       i'll make them timid...
scared... obscene... fringe...
                                              i'll go right to the source
of my "cis-normative-binary" blah blah alphabet soup
antithesis! it's going to look ugly...
a bit like... the ***** of Babylon riding the Hydra
beast of revelations... Babylon... aren't all the tongues
suspended in time in London at this very time?
Turkey... Iran... Iraq... eh...
                             she sure as **** isn't going to be attired
in the sun... and an iconoclast that i am...
   but that's what i love about ****'ite Islam...
that's why i think there needs to be a third branch of
this religion: to stabilise it...
    i lost hope in Christianity when i thought:
well... not another Jesus imitation...
     this religion is pretty much... this religion degenerated
into a polytheism with the number of schisms it has
"celebrated"...
                   lucky me: born into Catholicism...
yet? against my will: the baptism...
                             even Richard Dawkins was confirmed:
him being an Anglican and all...
me? i haven't... i couldn't have a church wedding...
i haven't been confirmed...
i don't have a confirmation name!


*******! another two exhibitions that i really want to see...
art and sensuality in the houses of Pompeii
at the archeological park at Pompeii...
oh ****... i thought it was in London...
    mind you... not everything comes through or to London...
the whole world might come...
but Pompeii's erotica hasn't...
        well... there's always Edvard Munch: masterpieces
from Bergen at the Courtauld Gallery until Sep 4...
but recently i've been having too much fun
watching sketches from South Park...
    i was never a big fan... well... apart from Team America
and that one line: Matt Damon... ha ha...
but those sketches of Tuong Lu Kim
   vs. Junichi Takiyama...
                        well... i have a nickname for my female
cat too... hell... i'll even employ the Katakana...
ヤマモト: empress - ya-m'ah-m'oh-t'oh...
   the male cat meows constantly: i want food...
let me into the house... please come upstairs turn on
the light and let me sleep in your bed...
but this "empress": i don't think i heard her meow...
she sort of... no: i have no access to the sound...
a bit like with a crow's croaking... it's croaking
but it's also a KRA- prefix of sorts that morphs...
just like you couldn't really write down a transcript of
Mongolian throat singing...
oh right... etymology...
     two words...
       yamamoto... i know where that comes from...
motać się... i.e. to struggle...
                 the additional letters hide the original intent...
because... unlike my male cat...
she... doesn't meow to indicate what she wants...
esp. when wanting to be let in from the garden...
hence...
             but she also does this truly weird thing...
imploring for food... she will stand on her hind legs
and with her front legs she will make a...
imploring gesture... as if testing: amen...
   or some Buddhist / Shakespearean kiss metaphor...
rubbing her paws together...
another word... KACAP: Кaцaпы (plural)
KACAPY... because what would a ****** think of
the current conflict between the Russians and the Ukrainians?!
aren't they both Cyrillic?!
i started wondering... maybe the etymology of
this intra-racial slur is derived from kaptur (hood)...
no... it's not...
it's derived from KAC (Кaц) - which means?
hangover...  
         meaning? even i know that Polacks have a reputation
for being drunkards... but...
the slur is derived from: but at least we retained
some civility - joviality in our drinking ****** -
the Cossacks and Muscovites were brutes when drunk...
the suffix -py (-пы) is unimportant...
     empress yamamoto (cat)...
                   well... i should text her around 12am tonight
asking her if she's available to spend an entire night
with me in a hotel...
   for £70 i found this decent one in Barking...
            hell... even if i throw in extra for wine, strawberries
and a dinner... it will come cheaper than
paying £120 for an hour in the brothel...
she might bring some ******* and i'll be like:
you know... like with those two Irish guys who thought
i was an undercover journalists...
that hit in the head from laughing gas...
see... i'm on the borderline of inherited a faulty gene
of high-blood pressure...
   so... too much coffee and mix that with nicotine...
i'm sort of immune to the effects of *******...
or laughing gas...
         with ******* i can do with coffee and a cigarette
after "fasting" from smoking for an entire day...
and laughing gas?
   i can myself laugh... on a whim...
   i just think of something absolutely stupid like:
i think i'm in love and i'm already giggling...
    eh... the mantra of: laissez faire sexuality...
it's so much easier with women when it ****** OBVIOUS...
well she can't "somehow" hide her over partners...
virgins and nuns aside: it's so much easier
to heave a hardened phallus and a hardened heart...
there's no allure of the western concept of romance...
there's absolutely none...
but you couldn't do that with European women...
and i won't go as far east into Asia as say...
beyond Iran... Turkic women...
    after all... i'm looking for a second schism in Islam
to be spearheaded by the Turks...
why? well... if Moses was the grassroots Messiah:
a proper fighter and a poet...
    a philosopher-warrior... then Hey-Zeus Crissy
was a cosmopolitan messiah...
the Turks? the Turks bring cosmopolitan Islam
to the fore... the right sort of levelling Islam...
they drink beer! they're the best barbers known to man...
****'s sake... even that beer of theirs:
Fiçi? probably the best beer in the world...
and no... i'm not into memes or emoticons...
that, above, in the title, in the (brackets)?
that's an ideogram for cat... most probably borrowed
from Chinese by the Japanese...
               the Manchurian crisis and speedboats...
it's truly fascinating... given the Chinese ideograms
are probably just as old as Egyptian hieroglyphs...
but more: x-ray vision than using actual forms
and adding colour...
could i conjure up the idea of a cat from that little scribble?

J++
  ロ      that's the simplified version... in addition
       to perhaps adding elements of T, ð and F...
cupboard... nope... i'm too European too Latinized...

no surprises elsewhere...
notably with the fact that we're not that much different
to the ancients...
modern times reflect the trials and tribulations
of emperor Augustus...
abortion was common in Rome...
lex julia de maritandis ordinibus (18 b.c.)
& lex papia poppaea (9 a.d.)
the arguments haven't changed...
extinction contra: not allowing such VIPs to emerge
akin to Newton or Achilles...
personally? fat chance of me reproducing...
from observing who actually reproduces...
sorry... life is remarkable in and of itself...
                 but sometimes people disappoint...
i too have been prone to have disappointed
based on the investment in what was expected of me...

lucky for some to have the attention span of moths
and be content with watching the daily news...
that's what turned me off from furthering
the relationship with the first girl i pair bonded...
we broke up... well: me doing it on the sly...
she doing it blatantly: in mutual agreement
when she said the following words:
i just want to sit down with someone to old age
and watch the news on television...

               **** me: i was quicker than a lightning
bolt bailing out!
me? i want to close my eyes and listen
to fire... i want to close my eyes
    and hear as fire nibbles on wood...
how much sloser is a lightning bolt from
light? and how much slower is fire from a lightning bolt?

stupid questions: but also awe-inspiring questions...
because what is question-worthy
and what is philosophical, these days?
it's not something anti-scientific...
it's more... post-scientific...
                         a bit like post-modernism...
i'm writing (or at least i hope)
writing some post post-modernistic in that
it's post-scientific... because? objectivity is a ******* drag...
it's so unlike the pretentiousness
associated with associating subtle scents and taste
hues of a wine:
   instead: calling it the ****** obvious:
a cherry's a cherry...
    eh... it only goes as far as that...

trouble obviously comes with time...
       because we're bound to be plagiarising each other
after enough times passes...
or we relegate someone for someone else
out of spite... out of jealousy... out of material gains...
out of sycophancy...

time's dearest slow trickle of foundation,
unlike the already established unfathomable
extent of space...
one can find a claustrophobia among
the stars with the magic trick of the ego
dying and being reborn toward
the practical activity of thought...
one can find that parallel when coupled
to demoniac sexuality hang-overs...
sleep-walking through, a thorough rereading
of Ovid...
    i'm in disagreement with myself...
Horace... or Ovid?

  a bit like saying: Hades? or Cronus?
        the old gods haven't died... no Hebtew deity
would or therefore could undermine
the gods of these letters...
no sacrifice could outlive its sacrificial rite of passage
for the sacrifice per se,
      Latin scriptum is and forever will be unlike
the Hebrew conquest of the Cuneiform
or the egyptian hieroglyphs...

i drank a little... i'm happy... tipsy...
i'm going to text her come midnight... are we on for tomorrow
night?!
   i don't mind rejection...
my cats like me... and i like drinking...
so... it's still 0 - 0...
i just wanted to paint a picture of
omicron zero, degrees superscript...
etc. bubbles... all is bubbles...
and 8... and B... and... the infinity symbol...
an eight reclining...

      ...someone always wants to be the one who
wrote the lyrics of Aud Lang Syne...
   that one song... ritually song on these beautiful isles...
just give me that... and all of Shakespeare can
hide in a library and never reach the stage of
a theatre...

unlike tennis players... we don't bow out...
we die... either by our own hand
or by the fading light of prescribed dementia...
we didn't allow ourselves to live
on easy terms... we certainly will not die:
allowing others to think we died on easy terms...
k'oh-g'oh yamamot'oh...
empress "?!" cat...

        neko...

               while time stumbles on a repeat...
everything: yet nothing... ever changes...
fashion changes... we're still the same creatures
from 2000 years ago...
simple pleasures... simpler deeds...
yet all the more complicated complications
of life's adorned schematics...
life is still life...
only now life's become the individualistic
horror-show of:
the re-established focus for "transparency"...
for...

             something is truly new...
   unknown prior...
                   there's a shift... it's almost quasi-tectonic...
it suggests to me the sentiment / statement of:
i'd be sooner dead than be in want
of learning about it...
  to be able to solve it...
                       i've had my problems...
i think i solved them...
Turkic women were always more...
appealing to me than European "royalty"...
if a woman has enough bravado
to tell you: men are better cooks than women...
right... sorted...
    i don't need to compensate chasing
after women already ***** by Afghan migrants...
to hell with that sort of crap!

nein! das ist der zweite diktieren!
amerikanisch-frauen "denken"
ist nein: universalübersetzung...
no... it's not...
that **** can stay localised in New York...
help me?! help me?!
help yourself...
     that's the message i heard...
right... so?
               **** the ******: forgo the virgins!
don't touch the European women...
go for the exotica of Turkic...
Arabic...
                Pontius Pilate says: 'ello from 'ell...

well... tennis...
   female tennis vs. male boxing...
like for like... i really don't understand why it's so...
just like i don't understand:
well, i do now...

    i just managed to watch the Matrix resurrections...
yep... i'm on board...
  i believe in gender dysphoria...
                         it's very much clarified for me...
only a woman in a man's body
    or a man in a woman's mind could have written
this sort of movie...
   it's basically a romance story
              with zombies...
                       the hive mind: zombies...
since there's no longer a chance to liberate anyone...
no one is an individual in the Matrix resurrections...
since? the hive mind can be switched on...
ergo? you don't even require agents to do anything...
it's a very ****** up sort of romance...
it's like... what comes after the Matrix resurrections?
the Matrix: reincarnations?
   i.e. only a limited number of "souls" exist
   in this world while the rest of the people are:
de facto - defaults?!
        i always found reincarnation to be a cruel concept...
it's elitist in that: perhaps there's no
European ****** royalty at hand...
    Tsar Nicholas II and King George V...
or that wild-eyed half-breed (sorry) -
   you'll see the picture if you type in...
       oh ****... can't find it...
   some half-wit related to Mary of Teck or someone...
or the Habsburg Jaw... infamous...

    it is: what it is... and i will use this language because
it's the necessary language to use...
but at least some royals are sensible enough
to untangle themselves from that vile practice
of breeding within a close-knit community of relatives...

the rest of us have been politely asked to breed
within the confines of scientific sensibility...
    why should they be allowed to continue that vile
act of tititalitng ******?!
hell... if they want to try the route of ******:
no problem... as long as they do not reproduce...

i know: who would have thought that the new
Matrix movie would spawn such emotions and thoughts
in me... completely "unrelated"...
well... it's not like in Plato's "theology" it isn't
mentioned that as punishment by the gods...
men would return in the bodies of women...
this story is as old as... the memory of ancient Greece...

i was hoping for some nostalgia...
i got nothing... just a confused narrative...
      because there really wasn't anything convincing
about this movie: beside the fact that
gender dysphoria is authentically: real...
in its unreality when based on a former architectural
logistics of the constraints of man...
   i should know... being a man...
i'm fixated on things remaining things...
esp. concerning inanimate objects...
           no need for telekinesis...
   "i", personally idealise the movement of traffic...
a cyclist can become a traffic-shepherd if he knows
his way around... say...
cycling behind a truck or a bus outside
of the realm of the blind spot... on the outside
of a large vehicle... being in full-view of the driver's
rearview mirror...

since i took up cycling in central London?
i cycle aggressively...
    how many stories of cyclists being rammed...
minced under the wheels of a truck have i heard of?
zilch! nada!
          that's a good thing...
i'm not saying that's because of me...
but... you need to teach people some *******
etiquette... an etiquette of movement...
the laws of traffic are pristine...
   i don't need some oblivious, solipsistic sacred cows
to **** up my bicycle-ride into central London...
pretending that they are pedestrians on wheels...
learn, your, *******, place...
respect... larger, moving, objects!
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2022
title: rama
body:
am Ra:
or what's...
Rushki
shh... shh... please.   502 bypass


when i think about myself having ***, after i just had ***...
i think about... rather... listen...
to all the possible Nine Inch Nails songs...
i don't know: no music is better to decipher my face
during *******...
i encircled the brothel a few times...
armed with 200cl of brandy and some Pepsi...
listening to the Fragile on repeat...
i was waiting for the cockroaches of the early night
to disperse... huddle into some oblivion of a corner...
it's almost 1am... i've returned from all sort of
debauchery... listening to... Nine Inch Nails'
Heresy (version)... i'm feeling pumped...
no point going to the gym...
i just ******* twice...
odd... very odd... i think i'm going to get myself
a girlfriend...
i sort of knew this was coming... coming...
i don't remember the last time i ******* my *****
into a woman... this time... felt odd...
felt like i had a filter on... it's so different when
you do it inside of her into a ******...
it sort of... accumulates...
when you ******* without a ******...
it's like... stars are born... 1 million lightyears
away from the present...
mind you... i'm not a teenager...
i gave her the look... i'm about to ******...
should i pull out? do the whole tissue project
of cheap abortions?
even she looked puzzled... you actually know
when to pull out?
so i asked... can i? ******* inside of you?
sure... it's not like i'm going to get pregnant...
later on she asked me:
you, poet, in shallah... you're going to become
a meteor... missionary, throughout...
oh she liked it... she even said that she did...
tongue waggling... *** slapping... lip biting...
tongue wriggling... tongue *******...
oysters galore...
        she showed me the bruises her ex left her...
burned her... stabbed her... whatever...
showed me pictures of her daughter...
her daughter's father... an Englishman... ******...
blah bah... if only the people i interact with knew
that i was diagnosed as psychotic...
second time i *******... well... let's put it this way...
she's just a little taller than me when i kneel
before her... we were smoking, talking...
i brought some leftover brandy... she tried to feed me
some... ****** *******... i said no...
she smudged her finger in some of the ash...
fed it to me... ugh! what's this?! pharmaceutical big
heaven?! what is this... paracetamol for... *******?!
exchanging life stories... i tell her...
i came to England aged 8... she started drawing the figure
for me current age: 35...
so i tell her... here since the age of 8...
but never been with an English woman...
why?
  the ******* nunnery...
they're all pretend nuns...
          nun?!
    rahibe... she used some bogus translator...
they pretend to be nuns...
uptight Jane Austen meets Charlotte Bronte types...
no... nothing horrifying
akin to the only female genius out there...
Shelley...
oh, ****... a woman tells you she's not going to get
pregnant... quizzical look:
you're going to ***** into me or not...
can i? well... i'm not going to get pregnant...
second time the lubricant was out...
jerking like mad... tongue out... spitting on the phallus...
what's not to be loved about women?
more talk...
might as well... chances are... i might still get
a third child into the bargain...
we're already planning a date around her free Sunday...
i'm thinking... cinema? n'ah... i'd rather take her
for a walk... perhaps spot some deer...
  beautiful daughter, mind you...
but the tactic worked...
   2x 20minute excessive bicycling sessions...
fasting... i only ate some cottage cheese
     with a hot-cross bun and some jam...
             a bottle of white wine: *** vino virilitas...
****** off without actually climaxing...
chill... chill... now i'm completely relaxed...
i'm looking at having a girlfriend that's also
a *******... hell... let's not judge...
we all have to share the same ******* pavement...
ride the same bus...
     ooh... the universality of gravity...
all get dragged down...
                  but taste this...
   how must my personal hygiene be up to scratch...
if she allowed me to ******* into her?
even she said: it doesn't matter if you're wearing
a ******... all those Indians are aqua-phobic...
and this is coming from a Turkish woman...
see! i know there's a third avenue of Islam waiting
in the fore... unlike the H'arab "orthodoxy"
and the Persian "unorthodoxy"...
there's an itching third branch of Islam waiting
to be spawned... spearheaded by the Turks!
we agreed... in this profession...
what sane woman would allow a pundit to...
******* into her...
wait... wait... there was a pause before i actually did...
well lucky me...
all in the *******...
how beautiful i am...
how intense my look while *******...
blah blah... i take these things to heart...
because: i have a heart...
no western woman would ever say such things...
proud nunnery *******...
stiff *****... i'll take the Turkish *******...
to hell with wanting to idolise all that that sells crap ****-in
-ing;
my god... i still have the scent of her skin
on my skin...
    petite little creature... ol' raven hair...
when i kneel before her she's just a forehead's height
above me...

right now: the world can *******...
it doesn't even exist...
that's the beauty of fathoming relationships,
however imperfect they are:
they are nonetheless: EXCLUSIVE...
i guess i could think of something...
she's already thinking of exporting my writing...
she wants out: and i want in...
i already messaged her back:
you know... i never felt this good since
the last time i played hide & seek as an 8 year old boy...

i gave her a copy of a book of poems
i wrote... not that it was a massive sample...
signed it... all my love: Khedra...
let's see what happens next...
    a life in Istanbul doesn't seem that bad...
i'd get the best beard trim in the world...

it was worth it... standing pointless... pointless...
at those stadiums... in the cold...
dealing with football hooligans...
as... steward / security guard...
      yeah... all those hours... worth it...
for this one hour spent with Khedra... worth every moment...
that's what i intended to spend
the earned money on to begin with... prostitutes!
why would i spend it on anything else?
mind you... how charming... have i become?
extroverted... she's now asking me
whether i'd care to spend time with her outside
the brothel!
    why judge... it's not like she has an only-fans
account... like she's bribing sim-ps-on-loans...

who the **** am? odd...
                     i love it when she strokes my beard...
tells me i'm her type...
oh man... and i thought i had the charm offensive...
but with English girls... you try it...
and it's like: talking to someone with prosthetic limbs...
a bit ******* awkward...
they look sort of horrific when trying to
speak let alone move...

at least here... i paid for ***...
i didn't pay for lies or... ****** *******...
but i got all three... well... why would she lie?
well... now i didn't just impregnate her...
what's that, she's going to leverage my *****
on some poor schmuck?
could happen... felt strange when compared
to the first time when she managed to stretch my
imagination of relief into the concentrated
presence of a ******...

i'm past living a safe life... let what may come:
come;
even my madness turned out to be,
rather... unsatisfactory... it always missed the mark of:
well... if there's no woman involved?
i'm ******* sane, by all accounts!
even if i've been diagnosed as mad...
it truly takes a woman... to... make the full transition
into: being a madman...
what's that... child no. 3?

               ha ha... quizzical: you're going to *******
into me? can i?
do you want me to? well... thank god there was no:
"oops"... i asked for permission...
she gave it... now i'm sort of waiting
for... payback... maybe i can draw on the insanity
card...
eh... life's great lottery.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
title: liquorice -
body: pretend it's
        just some vinyl.        

            these 502 bad gateway hacks are becoming...
not even bewildering... just idiotic...


it just dawned on me... come mid-afternoon...
i took a shower, put on the washing...
still ******* waiting to hang it up...
hmm... "counter-culture" and what not...
very unlike that glorious past of the 1960s...
i'm thinking: "red pill" and "black pill" and
******... sorry... incels...
    the future: a Saudi Arabia... copper-neck
new Brazil of trans-racialism... blah blah...
    polygamy or... a return to harems...
       but... i'm getting into a groove...
    oh **** me... **** me stiff... also necrophilia
style *******...
         men... are looking for *******...
they're bemoaning: a lack of *******...
  it truly is an Agent Smith argument...
        people... just... have no idea... what... entitles them...
when: they are given... shoved into...
having... absolute freedom! esp. men!
sure... women... do your thing... shackle with...
but we're finally free... take a breather...
you don't need to stash your make-shift imitation
train set in the garage...
     new focus: get drunk more... bask in the sun...
i'm free! weird... there is no social obligation
for me to couple up... and have someone
by my side to fuel the economy...
     this is better than anything Marx ever could
have envisioned! it's like the whole system
is going to self-implode because:
that's when Darwin sparred with Marx...
       as a man... i'm only going to spend money
on what i need... not what i desire... eventually: deride...
because... eh... leave the peacocks to the peacocks...
that saint: who wed himself to poverty:
Francis of Assisi...
                 depicted with a trio of pseudo-witches...
of Macbeth... or the Graeae...
i still don't understand... i'm trying...
     we're gloriously: free!
                 for once we can sort of live like *****:
freely-floating forward toward nothing:
with nothing: to mind!
               i still don't understand men that
bother themselves: bemoan not being pair-bonded!
borrowed from the tales of
the miseries of my grandfather and father...
*** is a great gift-card... but... later on:
i hardly wish i was "there": the preservation of life
can befall the "idiots"... sure... but life encapsulated
by one: for one... rather than the demands of
the many... what a relief!
   sure... life's burden from the perspective of "lack":
less is more... weird... weird... wriggly...
i don't know what to do with so much freedom!
ease up... i just don't know what to do with you:
dearest: freedom...
       woo hoo!
let's spell out some Deutsche!
   ich bin ein: frei-mann! woop woop!
       because... it's so demeaning... for a man...
to have only to focus on the ontology of woman...
ugh... sickly: sweet...
after all: women only spearheaded one "idea":
the Trojan horse of feminism...
hence the necessity to compound:
stoic-feminism... n'ah ah...
cynic-feminism... nope... not going to ******* float...
none of this is going to float:
i feel glad... irresponsibly glad...
almost altruistic / autistic... *******... *******: giggly!
ha ha! i'm laughing at my own jokes...
rolling out of control... having that dementia
moment of: transcending egoism that spells out:
I AM A GOD...
  or just... a very unfunny man...
whichever... i'm glad...
but i don't need to be a husband! i don't need to provide!
i don't need to be a wage-slave!
wow! phew! one relief after another...
and then euthanasia come the bad and terrible
and need for an umbrella...
phew! life... finally makes sense!
no one is going to miss me...
no one is going to grieve me...
i can't complain... i wouldn't want to...
it feels like it has almost been orchestrated...
i'm suspicious... now i want to drink some more
and... and... not bargain... ah... gambit: gamble
with traffic! with: big trucks and buses...
i feel an itch of: thirst that can't be quenched
with water... more: adrenaline...
         ugh... warm whiskey...
slurp-up: slurpy-****... juice up...
       *****-down...
                      ****... why is my forehead still aching?!
oh... right... that night i spent...
fighting with "myself"... or rather...
my shadow... whichever... even i get confused...
i still don't understand why men bemoan not
being subjugated... chased... hand-cuffed...
you're free! yeah... well... freedom does do a lot of
whacky **** to people who are:
5am wake up call primed...
              
me... happy... so happy that i try to make myself
feel sad... punching myself in the head
sort of alleviates the tension: but: not that much...
erratic cycling tactics in heavy traffic...
pretending to get a sun-tan...
that... oh ****... that helps...

      it's like... the Spartan warfare machine never
existed: even though... i'd love some rough and tumble...
even now... women scribbling Neo-****** of:
who is and who isn't to reproduce...
isn't it? Neo-******? out-breeding the lesser caste?
because... all women are the omni-caste...
no... they're not...
some will pop-out a: hyper-inflated head of a sort
of... "egg"... weird **** out from the imagination
of Mary Shelley... crap i'd want to dump... flush
down the toilet with my ****...
sorry... nature is cruel...

but it's a bit like: a square is square...
nature is nature...
you can't dispute it...
RADAR... you can spell that word
backwards and forwards...

     but me... hmm... what man wouldn't find relief
in life if he were bonded to a woman:
strapped... chin-mugged... scraping his
very dignity for some poke at the clam...
i just don't know what to do with my freedom!
like that Joker quote:
i'm like a dog chasing cars...
i wouldn't know what to do if i managed
to catch one!
i'm happy being sad... i'm sad being happy...
i'm like Eve having just eaten
the forbidden fruit... erotically "confused"...
but... not willing to give up that feeling
to the idiot that Adam was...
            ha ha: "transgender"... well... a little bit
of everything...

it's this freedom that's suspect...
well... if we are going toward an Arab style society
of polygamy and harems and...
and i'm a 6ft2 100kg hunchback with
bad teeth and bad eyesight and diabetes...
**** me... well then... Darwinism really works...
works like: Marxism never worked...
single men... driving the economy:
to the ******* ground...
   because... who the **** is going to buy hulahoops?
or dolls? or make-up?

again: i just don't know what to do with
my freedom... do i... simply: live?
wow... so much time... too much time even...
eh... pushing toward 80 isn't even an option...
thank god for the liberal attitudes of
the Benelux concerning death...
                      i'll most certainly look into that...
you can say your life is complete after
drinking milk... or eating an ice cream...
or something ridiculous like that...
   why? so freely disengaged from anyone in existence...
perhaps some drag concerning historical
figures... but...
     weird strategy... an even weirder energy...

not out of some upon-high reason for anti-natalism...
not because i'm an Einstein or a Newton...
i'm not the man who invented the nail or the hammer
or beer...

seeing prostitutes sort of helps with any
potential "anger"... "issues" about not being strapped
to potential: leech...
why is it in my nature to be so predisposed
to entertaining this idea like i should be grateful
rather than resentful for it?

mein gott... the days when women were these
mythological creatures of curiosity and
idealism... i hate writing these words...
           and what did they become?
prostitutes... headaches... or spare parts;

   you just can't prefix feminism-
  before any / every school of thought that man
conjured... because: oh the headache...
everything is replied with: ****!
   i'm alive... but... i'm ******* bailing out;
my lifelong dream from my youth...
honestly... i always wanted to enter a monastery...
i always wanted to become a monk...

nice to know that some choices could
be made for me...
and no... not at the altar of Ba'al Yatoosh...
who? ******* Hey-Zeus! Chrissy of Nazareth!

all the evil urges of the Demiurge:
that... i'm fine with... but not the kneeling
and pretend ******* break my jaw sort of b.c. to a.d. clocking
in to: life like a torment...
i don't exactly feel like living
in a clone army; in a hive mind.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
**** me... i used to listen to a lot of reggae back in the day
when i was an adamant marijuana smoker...
****... it was cheaper than drinking...
i used to listen to Collie Buddz... Damian Marley...
Stephen Marley... Israel Vibration, Culture...
           ***** and the Maytals... etc., etc.,
then i started drinking: back to basics...
blues... jazz... classical music... well... "basics"
i.e. birch trees... given that birch trees are the scouts
of the botanical kingdom of trees...

you know that feeling when someone who loves
you looks at you...
when you get up, lazily... at 6pm...
they have this stare: what the **** just happened?
it's tectonic...
did you **** someone?!
   there's that awkward silence...
eyes all darting... what did you do?!
ha ha: funny funny...

i had to check the amount i drank last night:
it wasn't that much...

what did i do that was so terrible? horrendous?
i made someone fall in love with me...
the most heavenly-forbidden deed...
i heard the words: i love you...
and that was that...
    
   personally? i think that i'm still dreaming...

i knew the night wouldn't come to the conclusions
i wrote about in when Cedilla met Caron...
i was walking to a bus-stop when a ****-****
started to irritate me... oops... almost...
****... now i need to find a public toilet...
pub... double ****: i'm carrying a bottle of homemade
wine with me... bouncers... they're going to confiscate it...

so i approach a... Camille? ****... that's a girl's name...
Collin... let's call him Collin...
because i asked and told him: i want this bottle back...
it's a gift...
   so he gladly took it and told me: be sitting for you
in the staff quarters...
ordered half a pint of Guinness...
drank it in under 4 seconds...
     maybe under 3 seconds...
         for some reason i was suddenly thirsty...

right... like "****-break" in American Pie
i went to the toilets and started to arrange toilet paper around
the toilet seat... sat down on the throne of thrones
and eased out a **** that also had some **** shrapnel...
like my Russian girlfriend used to call me...

eh... in ****** it's called a KLEX...
when you **** and spontaneously **** yourself...
because you don't know whether you're merely
farting or if there's some shrapnel ****...
in Russian? KAKASHKA... i.e. little ****...
i won't utilise Mother Cyrillic on this word...

came out sort of relieved...
about something beside the cleared ****...
ordered another half a pint of Guinness
and drank is in a 3 second glug-glug-glug...
even two days prior some Argentinian
asked me: how do the English down their pints
of beer so quickly?
i didn't tell him that i'm a neu-Albian...
an Anglo-Slav... does it matter?
     i told him... you pretend to breathe through
your nose: even though you're not...
and you relax your throat like
you're about to **** on a 12" *****...
hey presto! you down a pint!
but you never really down a pint...
you down half-pints...

i get to Goodmayes and buy a 35cl of brandy...
walk down shady streets...
me? there are no "no-go-zones" in London...
i must have mentioned it before...
i feel... nauseated when i visit Warsaw...
i'm like: i'm the of the same ethnic crop...
never mind the racial element...
oops... puke...
           i'm not used to being a minority where
there's currently no majority...
i feel sick... i don't have a fear of heights
but just before an event... when Wembley stadium
is empty: i feel dizzy... what the **** am i looking
at? a massive erected crater of what could have
been a meteor strike...

yeah... night started off so well...
i took out £200... i knew i was paying
    for an hour... £10 entry...
at the pub while i downed my half-pints
in between taking a ****... i spotted some colts spotting
me spotting them back... mirror? ladies?!
no no... i'm not here for the over-confident girls...
i'm... PREDATOR...
i'm looking for a wounded creature...
like all predators: not in some sick mruder-fetish
sort of way... just the obvious way...
minimal effort... maximum result...

just like Don Juan managed to ****** a nun,
i'm the antithesis of a Don Juan:
i managed to ****** a *******
to **** me outside the brothel
and in a hotel room...

so here i go... what's the best hotel in Barking?!
what will i bring?! Prosecco? strawberries?!
lingerie?! maybe i'll bring my ******* mother too...
ha ha...
     but if she's willing to **** me outside
of the brothel: for free...
she told me... call me Sunday... i have Monday
and Tuesday off...
i'll be waiting... i'll even cycle to Barking
to book the room... good... sound-proof...
sure... we'll probably go for dinner...
but i'll still be there to simply **** the ego
out of her cogito... so she becomes the fulfilment
of her own sum...

i was painting the fence today... a colour somewhat...
teasing auburn....
but also teasing the richness of oak...
one slap of the ***.. two slaps of the ***...
the kissing of the mandible parts:
elbows, knees, jaw...
a decent amount of slapping: to check the rigour
of and the tenderness of ****-cheeks
and the thighs... pinching... biting...
are you raw meat?!

*** is so important: **** relationships!
i'm only here for the ***...
i managed to become 2kgh leaner ...
breaking a habit of rhythm...
that's the deal breaker... the previous owner
if a ****** charged me £20 extra
for being allowed to perform oral *** on her...

you want to create a culture of people
being over-sexualised? because that common
excuse is still dangling like Damocles' sword?
a ******* chandelier of hanging violins?!

i took my chance... she didn't start off the *******
with performing oral *** on me...
i was readied and governing...
in between changing rhythm...
i dived down and... well...

i'm of the school of thought that prescribes
the motto: it's more pleasurable to give pleasure
than to receive it...
i have good "arguments"...

i like performing oral *** on a woman's "oyster" /
"sushi" than i might prefer getting a blow-job...
why? thighs! the 3D of highs... surrounded
by all the tenderness...
       women are oh so ****...
                me go loco... me is loco...
even she said: you're the right type of mad...
i love you...
             i love her too... i just teased her with:
a good **** and a like: you...

oral *** with a woman is the ultimate
deal-breaker...
the way she might grab your hair... tug you:
pull you... in a way that...
you "confuse" your tongue with your nose...
i like blow-jobs in reverse...
my god... i love  watching...
women... in ******-spasms...
forcing you to stop...
          
         then i'm kneeling...
before her...

hmm... confusion from yesterday...
some wanton English lass...

right... so i walk out of the brothel with a walking stick,
metaphorical, if course....
i'm all ******* wobbly..

******* English women...
you leave the bus, you shout: AH-HU! into the night
like an Orc... what happens?
she gets frightened... calls the police...
the police car shows up...
you're just walking from...splendour...
you just witnessed in a brothel..

what happened? you were just returning a favour....
i told her: don't worry...
my little Richard is being lazy...
sure... apply as much lubricant as you want....
it's not going to work... timing:
i'm turned off...
there's that element of stress...
but... as hse cleaned herself and as i cleaned
myself: are you happy?

she seemed happy...
i can pay for an extra gram of *******...
but ******* is limbo-land when it comes
to pharmaceuticals...
give me 500mg of Naproxen
and we're talking banana boats...

how many times did she see me? i asked her...
4 times...
i was biting her nose...
how many times did she see me?
once... how many times did i **** her?
4 times...
i thought i'd never return to performing ***
on a woman's.., "Wilfred": floral pattern...
scooping an oyster...

personally?! i loved the eye-contact...
gripping her thighs... her entire pelvis that was
readily "eaten"... her *******...
her arms.... teasing her *******...
slurped seconds?! who cares...
mind you... an Irish boy with a name
like an Irish girl was chatting to me:
thought i was of the Oxbridge stock...
i was somehow a "reporter":
so i asked him: wheere's my hidden canera?

he was ingesting laughing gas like mad....
he even asked me... do you...
have a... B'AH-LOON?!
do i have a balloon?
  i enforced giggling on him since
the chemical wasn't doing him much good....

i was the suspect "journalist": paranoid people...
paranoid paddies...
i ventured to begin with kissing her knees...
her elbows... her feet...

i am: going to have the second schism of Islam:
spearheaded by the Turks...
whether i'm alive: or dead...

she tells you she loves you...
oh **** me...
you only just performed your... nostalgia for licking
****...
my god... i love licking *******...
licking... *******... female genitals...
she tells me... i'll call you Sunday...
you book a hotel room for either Monday
or Tuesday...

she... actually... shivered! i mean: she...
shivered!
**** me... when i'm good: i'm good...
when i'm ****: i know i'm ****...
but when i'm good...
i eat with my eyes
and look with my mouth...
it's always better to eat with two eyes
and look with only one mouth...
esp. when it comes to female *****...
i love ******* on those things...
i regress towards oysters...
the way a woman will insinuate:
waggle your tongue... suckle...
"poach"... i don't even know but if she
insinuates: "poach"! you... ahem...
"poach"...

Sunday should be fun... is she free for
a Monday's worth of night or relaxing ***?
or is that a Tuesday?!
seriously though: her **** tasted of big-pharmaceuticals:
within the lineage of *******...
i'm used to dropping pills... but the extra oyster
factor...
oh man... i love performing oral *** on a woman...
i love *****... i dip my nose into thr "humus"
and all is well... with the world...

RA!
    AH HA! RAWL!
AH HA! RAQ

because you eat ***** so well...
she starts playing with your hair...
nudging your nose
to a close proximity to your tongue...

eyes eye           eyes eyes,,,,

eyes       eyes

eyes                       O0O0O0O0O....

really? a hotel room?
based on,
the suckling i
managed to perform?

well.... if she's happy: i'm happy too!
underlined: a woman that has been properly ******
and a woman that has been properly fed...
third quest of the equation...
now's the time to impregnate her...

and if he's not in the "mood"? **** her
all the more...
        a woman doesn't need to be the suggested
truth of Nietzsche...
she just needs to be a woman...
a woman is a woman is a woman is a woman...
parallel the truth is the truth is the truth...
neither truly actually interact, proper...

i interact with a woman on an intimate basis
i'm sick for about 3 days...
i ingest all these unnecessary biases...

i told her when going limb
as she tried to reward me with a blow-job...
we met 4x times...
     of the 3x...
   she rewarded me...
this time? i wanted to reciprocate our ***...
i wanted to please her: which i did...
30 minutes more...
as she started to perform oral *** on me:
god almighty...
i wanted to wet my beard a second time...
forage for mushrooms... slip my lips into
a **** of the totality of oysters...

i kept thinking about eating flowers...
when a woman: just like that...
mein gott!
she grabs your hair and grips it and tugs
and... she wants to replace
your little Richard with your nose and
your tongue...
i'm good crazy... i'm good crazy...

all that inner tenders between the tenderness
of the thighs...
this... altar of the feet...
i could... really: could: un-imagine
the creation of the mermaids!
to all my siblings i never met and never will meet
to all the people who never got to find themselves
who lived and died under a name other than their own
to everyone whose fate was decided at the hateful hands of others
or their own hands in hopeless sorrow
to those who spearheaded change
and to those who never knew another like them

i'll keep living for you
i love you
transgender day of remembrance 2024

— The End —