I sew therefore I am. This is what women do she thought, even with the television on, muttering and flickering in the corner. But its turning on was but a reflex action to being alone when she came down stairs after reading to her child, and the sitting room empty of his presence. Only the cats occupied her chair where she now sat and sewed.

For once her sewing pile had his nightshirt, a tear at the bottom, a missing button. It was old, well-worn, of a light blue stripe. That was what he wore in bed, and, as he invariably read to her each night, she would slip her hand inside the shirt, across his stomach to a place she had discovered at the top of his pelvis that seemed to be there for her hand to rest. One night she had felt the tear and thought, I must mend this.

She knew something of the feminist canon: Rozsika Parker's Subversive Stitch lay browsed but unread on her bookshelf. The impact of the book was enough: that the relationship between women’s lives and embroidery had brought sewing out from the private world of female domesticity into the fine arts and created a breakthrough in art history and criticism. She remembered writing that somewhere in a student essay. But mending clothes was hardly fine art. And then she remembered Sashiko, the ‘little stabs’, that functional stitching of clothes in Japan.

They had met at the station for a 30-mile train journey to a nearby city. It was a blue-cold December day and they had felt warmed by seeing from the train window a covering of snow on the ploughed fields. She had worn her grey coat with the green lining and an indigo blue-pattern scarf, a swinging denim skirt and orange-patterned top. Tights and boots. He: she had forgotten. Funny that, remembering what she had worn, but for the man she was beginning to feel so hopelessly in love with, and by the end of that day, hold in her heart, seemingly, for evermore, she could not remember. His old brown jacket perhaps . . . No, she couldn’t be certain.

He had loved the exhibition. It was an unencountered world, though he had experienced Japan, but not, as he said (at length), the rural fastness of an offshore island where women were loggers and men were firemen. It was the simplicity of the stitch that captured his attention, the running white-cotton stitch on the blue indigo workware, occasionally a red thread on a decorative piece – a fireman’s tunic. This was stitching about mending, reinforcing a worn area by stitching on a new patch, and in doing so novel patterns evolved, so novel that this traditional stitch became an inspiration for Reiko Sudo, Hideko Takahshi, and the cutting edge textile designers of 20C Japan. It was reuse that made sense.

He had loved the names of the stitches: passes in the mountain, fishing nets, the interlaced circles of two birds in flight, woven bamboo, the seven treasures of Buddha.  She remembered the proximity of him, touching his arm to show, and sometimes just to touch his arm – yes, he was wearing that old brown coat. It was before they were lovers, but she was sure then they were in love, and it seemed impossible and quite wrong to be in this large gallery, flowing too and fro, apart then together, apart then together. She thought: he knows how I want to be when looking at such things; I need space. And she supposed he needed space too because the moment they entered the gallery he left her alone. But that coming together was, and remained ever after, a warm thing, and she remembered that day being a little aroused by it being so.

Later, they had walked a short way from the gallery to a tiny cottage-like bookshop he knew, a bookshop full of impossibly large books on art and architecture. He had something to find: The Crystal Chain Letters – architectural fantasies Bruno Taut and his circle by Ian Boyd Whyte. There had been her favourite  Mark Hearld cards and his collaged pictures in the window. She went upstairs and knelt on the wooden floor to take out the books on gardens on the lowest shelves. The winter sun had poured through a nearby window, warming her face till it glowed. But she was already glowing inside. And he came and knelt behind her. He rested his head on her shoulder and she had turned and put her arms around him. They had kissed, a delicate, exploratory, yet to be lovers kiss that had made her feel weaker than she already felt. She knew she would remember that moment, and she had, here on her chair years later, now in a different sitting room from the one she had returned to that evening without him, returning to her husband and children. And she had missed him beyond any measure and written to him the next day, a letter written in her head before she had slept, and then the following morning, with the children at school, she had lain on her bed and calmly touched herself to remember his kiss, their kiss.

our grasslands,frantic Jiving,Jiving Jiving  carries     the full moon  
things you know ,under stilts- day/&night; /\are off ,,,, raspberry,
discontent,  its in  my winter,  / in  my seasons/  mother  fuggazii a neatt blueberry /trimed, neat
  

  ,                        
,bespoken// man off the hour Onegin \Gerianne- ,,twitches  .Onegin \Onegin \Gerianne-
astute,!!! many many-floors up, piping- cleaning,every quarter the clouds/masquerade ,this is cat______
to,,, through ,,through,,n,moved, a-blue,, temple a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now
Buddha, a simpleton/buddah geriane
evn more, man , means  pristine,adhoc ,reminisce wt i was wt wht wht ever i was
end-knot, end knot yet waas itt it was probable most likely
immeasurable , -penetrable the - wild/man go take a look beckons/you hey  the  ribbons the  knots
knots  the wrought what for/wt for noww  door to door
tropic tropic endemic you hear wt you see you lurch you b you b you believe sort  off  
on my sideAusual-revival A rendition again  again and lifee-like -ride
and whatever moreover all oveer the leftovers rose swells . fine
inn smoke  -reels/ ncapabl,,indecicve ne more dayy nd through
th moors,,a week goes
mayb a month a long intention  itt- sooths./all the more doggs
onegin \Gerianne- ,,twitces  .astute, many floors up,pigging cleaning,every quarter
the clouds/massquadre ,this is cat to,,, through ,,,,,moved , a-blue,, temple
a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now Buddha, a simpleton/buddah
geriane droggs onegin \Gerianne- ,,twitces  .astute, many floors up,
pigging cleaning,every quarter
the clouds/massquadre ,this is cat

to,,, through ,,,,,moved, a-blue,, temple a bloom,a ,temple a rook a trek a stoop now
Buddha, a simpleton/buddah geriane
,, miniature lamps,,blizzards all that can in a man/rigour
all that hula hoop possibly a merry christmass,,dayys spent ,,,  full you  are all that is
sire a \all the pleasures off a small room full off all the kool tools an art decoo sire by now you know it all thecrystal fairies in blue crystall *****    
,pretty slick,,,runs ,piping hott ,, undone &the; buddha, the-rider,, the- boxes,,,layaway
the glistering the beaming, all  the book keeping a philistine, if i mayy

impeccable, and  free glitters all  the hourrs,a\ repliccaa just a beguiling  taste ,\
,sire,,little empty purposely,, masterfully done,,,sire beefy ,,sire,and, plenty-full
surelyy the nectar bequeaths
( projected .mediocre , mister faires in ferries  shimmering  dearest of stories
  / wings/reminising      buddah     buddah.    
  an artt decoo sire,,,a purple tea *** in which we drink our tea,

,,mirrors,,, the very best in the pristine the mannequins,,all the more
the -buddha,the-rider,, the- boxes,,,,sire iff only i may evn more
from wt i was endless immeasurable the - wild/beckons/ ribbons and knots
knots what for/ door to door  tropic
day/&night; /i was i would on my side
Ausual-revival  Arendition again  again  and  lifee-like -ride
and whatever moreover all oveer the leftovers  rose swells . fine
our grasslands,you know , stilts  frantic Jiving,Jiving Jiving
in smoke  -reels/incapabl,,indecicve  one more dayy and through  th moors
are off ,,,, raspberry,discontent  / neatt/  mother  fuggazii ,,
a week goes  mayb a month a long intention, itt- sooths./all the more

coldest,yet An ongoing black screen, then you came   colored coldd eminence  at al times
around me,   the birds,forrow Here burning,  Orange yello/blue brigand
In a lot, and  the cloud,  the grasslands to let me in,  dollor man
a board, a bloom Buddha, a simpleton ,  slanted/ forever possibily
  glistering/the ice cones,gingivitis floating away    /balloons
Above//   before beyond   half  half ,exciting  Elicit, , derelict,  
,  /never closing  a fantasia what i mean when i need  
   rerun .the chapters <retort>     there's a god  today in this moment and i can feel  it  .
   "jessica"\    ( the drudge   ducks   dips digs more and more
     won't stopp)       diners too many  tea  
  <>>>>\        stays afloat,        dispels /beaten /scowls   scary ,all-of jiggling/kepp bouncying
     ><weeds out / >minuscules         ripes/renders
         <jessica>>>>jamboree          come face me.
     the grandest / all  the oddities     one magic invention i was missing all this time
    transgression/ kindda may be timid /    my jive /our rruby/mouthing
a last supper if you will .something akin    reasons /acuity/  th more the merrierer
   my bliss/slits    till-kingdom comes .   / & the black space everywhere in
   them the/many minds    all the more    \><citadel.come and go touch of gold
   see to believe              &&&&  <    deep blue lakes that  never end
their rune and it  returns  a ship on her chest
that i will reach places un dreamt of   will   returnn  > there. everyplace
                        
                  
   still passionate  though    /frothing/foams  "jeddah" "a simpleton, gives wayy too ".
the landscapes.an excerptluxomberg- along the /tumultus ,dry  the same dayy footing it foams  2 itt noww,,a cold..trance ,, embezeled !! forr ,regressed. ,thoseof us VISIBL- Keene
it is finally-plenteous breathing!a more juniper  . . cold. \ invisible,grooming////      
  turns outt_..... ) .same dayys, for ever,evoles the delicate, the muffin menin muffin coats
/,/renders the arc  dayy 5 on the road is lunch  now ............
along the heavy points 4pm same dayy a brown tea *** so nicely preserved but off no grater utility just a brown tea pottt  37 -38 ..........just likk thatt
.... kindda winds up ,,wry now ....the fckig landscape.an excerpt  luxomberg
alice springs.carrie. chapter 1,the landscapes 2.pm preemtive.the-blue-acron in chrome  i-would know _ -as forr a while  ,(radio rahim....) for you ,tic-trackks,tic-trackks viggelntees) a vigill,


step1 : sudo apt-get install xserver-xorg-input-all step2 : sudo apt-get --purge autoremove xserver-xorg-input-all && sudo apt-get install xserver-xorg-input-all

step1 : sudo apt-get install xserver-xorg-input-all step2 : sudo apt-get --purge autoremove xserver-xorg-input-all && sudo apt-get install xserver-xorg-input-all

I can't sleep for this kitten has claws
when you die I will tear your soul apart
mortality is a gift, so take it
I will wait till you are dead

30 years if that
then you will be mine
and by the eyes of God
I will tear your soul apart

I get ******* with sudo Christians
by the laws of the trinity
time means nothing to me
for I am a vengeful Angel

My own tell me to leave it
why should I waste my time
I tell them to f*ck off
just to tear you apart


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Type to terminal:

sudo update-alternatives --install /usr/share/plymouth/themes/default.plymouth default.plymouth /usr/share/plymouth/themes/Peter-Rabbit/Peter-Rabbit.plymouth 100

sudo update-alternatives --config default.plymouth

select the number corresponding to "Peter-Rabbit" then run

sudo update-initramfs -u

if I seem desperate, it's because i am.
i don't care about dignity.
i care about you.

how many nights in a row can I drink white russian daiquiris
and smack ink onto a blank sheet before I realize
that I haven't pressed the "J" key even once
in hopes that my brain won't jumble the letters
and create word searches with only your name in the word bank.
i'm not dyslexic but I do love puzzles.
crosswords, jigsaws, multi-colored cubes,
cryptograms, mazes, tetris, Sudoku...
the only one I can't seem to solve is you.

****.
Once again, I'm stuck.

I don't care for insults
I do stand alone
my restraint is me
for I will not attack

Come sudo friend
give it your best shot
for I have seen all before
and protect his fragile soul

Do you think I would leave him
My Husband of being
he is that part of me
don't fight me, for the sake of you

I do stand alone
so don't **** with me
for I really know
the laws of hurt

Run rat
Run and scurry
for I need not you
as another quarry

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

People that change history, have to be true to their faith
so understand there is no them and us, for we are all one
my country is in the grip of unholy beasts of hell
for all the poor ******* that live in this sudo china crisis

I am watching good working people being crushed
watching them being arrested and incarcerated
who will help us, will the land of the free help us
I don't think so, for money rules this sick world

If you want to see the third world
come to Britain see children starving
so many in the slums of sewers made
by our own usurper sick government

Oh they make our country great with lies
in their eyes we have never had it so good
if that was a fact, I would not write this note
for as they hurt us, we will fight hard back

Let us eat cake 48 12


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

bo@boo:~/Desktop$ sudo su
[sudo] password for bo:
Sorry, try again.
[sudo] password for bo:
root@boo:/home/bo/Desktop# fs=$(df / | tail -1 | cut -f1 -d' ') && tune2fs -l $fs | grep 'Filesystem created'
Filesystem created:       Sun Mar 28 15:56:08 2021
root@boo:/home/bo/Desktop#

If home were where the heart is, am I to be considered careless?
Still young with four parents, why do I feel so alone?
This hostel that calls me a student, do they care for me?
How am I supposed to adult on my own...

I have biological and sudo-step family and they seem happy
As they are, they are content with their nuclear families
And I am content with solitude. Something to call my own.
But solitude ends with the term.

I sleep in living rooms and, after emotional diffusers, at friend's houses.
My little half-brother hasn't yet learned that he can ignore me while I wallow in my pity
A lesson that he will learn with my termly absences
A lesson my parents surely have

I don't think that it's being sent away that makes me feel alone
Nor the sleeping on couches, many people seem to be fine and they were also raised like this.
No, it's the happiness. Their happiness...
Yes, I am the bad guy of this story, the antagonist you boo
I arrogantly assume that if they loved me they would be sadder when I went away.
And, maybe, at first they were, but that was before the wedding bells rang, again.
Before they promised to death for the second time

I know there are more lessons to be learnt now that I'm growing older.
Lessons that have served me well, but that childish rage in me will always glow.
So I'll finish my education, get a job and a house
And hopefully emotionally I'll grow.
And maybe, just maybe, my heart will grow softer, or bolder.

caught between screens
like a rock and a hard place
laced with beams of green,
the command line screams into
dark color schemes that maintain
a clean theme of extreme
control
in a world lacking

whoami
to say sudo i'm
just the pseudo-king of
all the pings
i see'em sing ICMP but
the ether stream contains
more than pings,
no it flings about
all the things modernity
can't think without
like some machined spring
spewing strings
made up of  
every dream we need
fresh from the
version-controlled source

the click clack of
mechanical keys on
a thick black
switch-backed board
in tic tac mint condition
is the sound of
strict syntax enforced,
if there's a problem
you fix that,
else the big bad bugs
will kick back with
sick bags of tricks
that make you
wish that there was better
logging for life's mistakes

sudo apt-get install -f

no quiero otra noticia sino vos/
cualquiera otra es migajita donde
se muere de hambre la memoria/cava
para seguir buscándote/se vuelve
loca de oscuridad/fuega su perra/
arde a pedazos/mira tu mirar
ausente/espejo donde no me veo/
azogás esta sombra/crepitás/
sudo de frío cuando creo oír/
te/helado de amor yago en la mitad
mía de vos/no acabo de acabar/
es claramente entiendo que no entiendo