Sleep can't help me now. Nothing can help
me now. As many people care, and as sure as I am that the number of people that do care is less than or equal to zero, I still regret waking up every day. How hard is it to feel

When do the days grow into hours grow into grow in grow to the
     top of the forest where the environment sways back and forth
          on unstable ground where everything is constantly shifting
and sinking deeper and
                           deeper and
                                d
                           ­      e
                                  e
                           ­        p
                                    e
                         ­            r, to the point where nothing even matters anymore and the only sounds anybody hears are just the bittersweet echoes of whatever ounce of sadness you still have saved for a special occasion. Represent the resentment that resides in the recesses of your wretched receptacle that reaches for any affection afflicted amorously to our attached arteries and alveoli and attend to any of our other needs. Remember not to cast asunder others or to deprecate mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers who should love one another for each other as well as the lovers who quiver and shudder at affection and attention reflected at their functioning conjunction of otherworldly love for one another. Know what you want and need and see to it that you get to be the best you could be and tell yourself to be free! Scream to your creators and scream to yourself that I, yes I can be whatever I want to be and whatever social constructions will not let me see, then I wish to be freed and I get down on both knees and pray to whomever will hear my dreams.

Know that there is no being more powerful in your life than you. You are the Alpha and Omega, the Logos and the Pathos, the Shakespeare and the Limp Bizkit. Everything that you ever want is an achievable aspiration, and all you need to do is know. Know. Know. Know. Know. Know that when you grow old and frail and brittle that your body will ache with the experience of a person who has been to hell and back and maybe back to hell one more time because you were young and never learned. So play games, jump and run, dance and sing, do something you'd never do normally, try out for the play, play sports, write a poem, write a song, write anything at all, talk to people, talk to strangers, sleep for 4 hours instead of 8, sleep for 12 hours instead of 4, think and think and think until it drives you to drink and think some more. Know that you wish and wish to know that everything you want and need is obtainable and in your reach. Life is alive and wants you to live, so show Life respect and do what it wants you to do: Go.

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

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

i once heard a very astute observation
about nations,
  from a mind that only reached
the age of 18...
Anthony, a gay, from Barnet in
north london, when we shared a flat
at our first year at Edinburgh...
he said, and to this very day his
words burn in my mind -
(he was the first student i had a beer
with, and he gave me
the manic street preacher's magnum opus
album: generation terrorists...
huge fan, and a music buff in general)...
then there was bruce who
was in corny ****, like nina simone,
ella fitzgerald, sam cooke, queen,
                     marvin ******* gay?
seriously?!
                  the ****'s this: a motown
convention?
                              i like the music,
but i prefer making fun of it more,
with one exception: -
                  don't know much about history,
don't know much biology,
don't know much about a science book,
   don't know much about the french
i took,
             but i do know that i love you,
and that i know that you love me too,
        what a wonderful world this would be:
neil armstrong had hide and
            use his horn to hide skittles.
who was that other guy?
     i just remember he cycled,
  and one time he shaved his head in the bath
and the bath was filled - tom! - vacuum cleaners! -
dyson! yeah, that guy -
  shaved his head in the bath, and didn't
clean it up, so i says to the rest of them:
i'm not his mama, ******* if you
think i'm going to clean this **** up...
the same guy (tom) who found
white vinegar strange...
      sure, the label had written on it
the word ocet - slavic, which is used to
dilute and invigorate a mizeria, no,
not misery - cucumber salad,
     onion, dill, white vinegar, salt, pepper,
cucumbers, mayo and crème fraîche...
what, only seen the brown stuff?
funny though, i remember the first
meal anthony made for himself,
  salted pasta...
      he looked so helpless...
yeah, that's what it was, you heard me:
boiled pasta, with some salt sprinkled
over it.
reference to bruce from derby?
        catchphrase ding, ****! -
and that one night he came back from
drinking on the town with the guy
that dropped out and started working
on an oil rig... the moans and screams
and puking into the toilet while we all laughed...
hey, no featherweight gets to bash up
a heavyweight... ha ha...
tom never ate on a plate, and he only cooked
pasta, and used a dolmino tomato sauce...
see, some people have a knack at being
observable, so repetitive they're as familiar
as a chair is familiar, next to a table...
   repetitively mundane and easily remembered...
aha! but was once the time he actually
figured out to put some chicken into
the sauce, so it wasn't merely pasta
  and tomato sauce...
    **** me, that year i travelled millennia -
back into the caves...
who raised these boys, wolves?!
        i have to admit i had my faux pas moment,
when i made a cinnamon rice pudding...
ugh...
   and i did call my mother most of the days,
not out of loneliness,
neither of my parents were at university,
i was the journalist.
                        so i didn't wash the bath,
i just when upstairs to where four girls
  flat and had a shower there.
- oh right, what anthony said:
   no great nation can claim currency in
the geopolitical world,
that hasn't been baptised by a civil war
(not verbatim) -
true, america, russia, england, spain, france,
      germany(?), japan (ronin wars)...
                    i agree, but then there's
the other type of nation,
  well, there are only two that i known of:
poland & israel.
                      with a spell of being non-existent
for a while,
obviously israel being non-existent
is *******
and poland is pale by comparison
  (i don't write fiction, simply because
i remember all the little details
of the people i've met) -
              these transitionally non-existent
nations have a staggering
sense of immediacy -
point to make:
            england is a nation of nostalgia...
back to the empire,
  and since remembrance day is
coming up...
  always with the ****** poppies -
you can seriously start to see that world
war II didn't even happen,
since the focus is on world war I is
remembered more...
guess it must have the stupider war of
the two...
                             but the difference between
a nation baptised by civil war,
  and a nation having a non-existence interlude
is much different...
there's no nostalgia,
     i could be nostalgic about
the 16th / 17th height of
     the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth,
the largest nation in europe,
       from the baltic to the black sea -
but i'm actually more engrossed in
the fact that poland, the football team,
  will for the first time in history be
allocated a group in the world cup,
   be first picked, allocated...
                          i admit that civil
wars create formidable nations,
                     but... i don't even know how
to call the nations which dipped into
non-existence for a while...
           perhaps it's only with there being
less nostalgia in the latter nations
  than in the former:
  managing decline vs. declining to manage -
sure, save some money,
sell the house, buy a flat...
  but there wasn't really a decline of poland,
or israel,
      it was more a disappearing act,
a magic trick, ****! gone 18th century,
****! back on the map in the 19th century
as a satellite in the form of the duchy
of warsaw...
                 and you will actually find every
living pole without a nostalgia for
the zenith...
       there's only a joke running:
   an old man will always say -
i don't even which republic this is,
                     third, fourth... fifth?!