re.: a mini-psychotic detour -
it's off the stream! it's off the stream!
it's been catalogued in: latest!
it's off the stream! i'm aiming to reach
1million words and...
it's off the stream... so the word
count will not be incorporated...
oddly enough i still know how
to use a toaster - and a kettle -
i am also fabled with having to perform
week long chemistry experiments...
why i didn't look into the basics
of
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funny that... how ever many of years
in school, then at university...
i was teased with this language...
for half a semester at university...
the rest of the time school was...
a bit like being in prison...
making sure the prison guards had
a job, were paid...
same with school...
the teachers were paid...
did they teach us basic computer language?
no... i'm pretty sure they didn't...
were we all expected to go to the coalmine
first... before being told to...
which isn't so much lazy as...
i can still remember chalk and chalkboard
at school...
and the holy trinity of (
{ [
how many crescent moons - and altering
a piece of: would be paper?
oh my god... e. e. cummings wasn't even
born...
can you imagine if e. e. cummings
was born 20 years ago...
and started smashing out his:
stand-
;still)
i was honestly being technologicaly
paranoid...
about to cite archive numbers
of "missing" / "shadow-banned"
poo'ems...
e.g. 3479319, 3482972, 3485309,
3484258, 3483083, 3480751,
3480555, 3478158 etc.
but how is that even an over-hyped
reaction - when you're only scratching
the bare minimum -
of what's nonetheless, to me:
a 2 dimensional canvas...
and the point of school was to ensure
that we could fathom our naiveness even more so...
nothing of importance...
just passing the time...
it's not like they could have taught
us to code -
school is not some preface for:
all the subsequent self-taught mechanisms
you will ever encounter:
further on life...
why did i go to school?
why is the cult of school and the nostalgia
culture associated with: popular kids,
nerdy kids, bowling for columbine...
the everyday leftover kids -
i don't even remember being
taught grammar: proper...
we were told... as long as you sound
coherent...
nature came - nurture ****** off somewhere...
but nature didn't come
with <basic> or not so </end of>
with this sort of <bracket>
and this sort of (bracket)
and this sort of {bracket}
and this sort of [bracket] -
"back in the day" you'd read some heidegger
and not "bother" to code -
" " implies /misnomer
/metaphor - solo....
as: burgundy < red
red being the base marker...
given that rose < red (is also)...
since burgundy > red
since: burgundy ≈ purple...
<approx>
cardinal < crimson
</approx>
a "debate", and another debate -
in a thesaurus entry...
red - cardinal, crimson, burgundy appear
<sim>
cardinal < burgundy
</sim>
that is... cardinal ~ burgundy
ergo cardinal > crimson...
or do we call these the prefixes: quasi~
and pseudo≈?
cerise and all that's suddenly expected to turn
into fluorescence of some underwater Florence...
from carmine and maroon -
brown starts to creep in...
bobby vinton - blue on blue and...
spaghetti westerns -
somehow i wish to be held in the hands
of a coroner -
i should really think about
donating my body to a medical school -
and bobby has another great track:
velvet blue...
sure... he's no sam cook...
all the way riddled with h'american
suburbia psychopathy:
a smile can hide a thousand
little lies...
a smile is something anti-stoic...
because... the shine of the ivory sheen...
and all i can think of...
not even beginning sentences -
esp. not ending them -
the narrative went with the baby
and the bathwater -
the canary had a coalmine -
the budgerigar had a cage...
the sparrow were tattooed
along with swallows onto convicts
bodies in some jean-genet
minor *****-porky-teen-flick...
tender-bits from some Olaf or Oleg...
or better still an Olga...
recitations would also require:
bumblebees and petula clark!
and that one song that surfed right
above my head and started towing
a hoarding of kippahs
and a... my my... all those
abrahamic beards turned into sabbath
bound brooms for the fwench
brides of boredom...
some might say it's:
strawberry alarm clock -
incense and peppermints...
as Herman's Hermits aged much worse
than a Donovan...
no milk today and the three kingfishers...
welcome citations...
what's more apparent? someone is clogging
up the arteries of time...
the veins are... the veins that stretch as far
back as jazz from the 1920s...
through to the wock and woll of the 50s...
don't get me started on what's the leftover
of the 90s of the 20th century...
new beginnings they will cite...
here's one... if e. e. cummings was to be born...
swing low
sweet ca
rr
y on
(pass the freedoms pappy
or uncle shylock not interested
- notes on finland the elsewhere estonia,
latvia and li... i will not give lithuania up
that easily... the once grand duchy...
married to the crown -
and all my hitorical adventures -
the sensible today...
the modern sensibility the current man!
me and my historical... what did i call them?
no... they're not idiosyncracies...
they're... detours in infantalism...
but if e. e. cummings was born circa...
and he - he would mosty certainly
succumb to code logic poetics...
bracket (a) "bracket" <b> bracket {c} bracket [d]...
!red is blue -
outright negation...
!red isn't red - the "is" is therefore questionable...
for some reason: no, it doesn't have to be:
but it's blue... blue is !red
should a mr. buckling bucktooth still
be introduced?
well: we do need to indroduce a next to nothing
worth nothing new: cipher unit...
a faux pas needs to have an addressee -
namely me - and i need to wallow in infuriated
agony of a petty detail that no life will
require to cherish!
- and that i am to be fond of tomorrow in that
the only promise that awaits me there is:
me baking a four tier cake - literally...
how terrible a faux pas becomes -
a bull so enraged by red that he becomes blinded
and no longer is able to hone onto
the originating crux -
even somehow "somewhere" with a
dasein in
tow... intermitten years...
no... not without a T attached...
and even by now as by then:
that's a misnomer...
- apparently tautology is not a logical
fallacy... but something worth
a thesaurus rex and peacock's: "age of discovery"...
how we can all speak a language
of aphorisms and verb conjectures -
as ever: nouns retain their form as being
the most complete category of everyday
toils - a hammer will never become
an iron shrapnel hanging by a hook chin
off the clide edge of a nail's head...
set with time in mind - temporal thinking...
otherwise set with space in mind -
spatial thinking -
otherwise: when thinking was simply
thinking - exploring the moral architecture...
with that moral-theta of 'ought... and i:
probably not...
save me from linguo-savvy h'american
media pundits and their acronyms!
the boss, the bot the bot, the boss...
the bottom liner - the beatnik and the bolshevik
and... some other b- prefixed outlier...
- otherwise: it's pretty **** evil...
for movies to showcase the hygienic act of
washing ones teeth...
washing the teeth...
spitting out the remaining toothpaste
(oh jeez louis! why don't they simply,
swallow it?)...
and then... not rinsing their mouths?
at this point... rinsing the mouth...
after having just washed the teeth using
toothpaste... is probably as much good
as using mouthwash to begin with...
no one; no one rinses their mouths
after brushing their teeth on film?!
i've too many dreams about teeth
to know - i am actually the sole proprietor of
a memory of my great-grandfather...
and how... he would eat 20 sugar cubes
a day... smoke 40...
and have his first tooth pulled out...
aged 62...
myth, history... journalism?
i dream about teeth...
i would have clearly asked for:
and he dreamed about moths...
but then... oh Eden is still in my grasp...
i can see the next forbidden fruit
hanging...
her name is Layla... and she's...
borderline 16 years old...
i see my Eden already...
i see the forbidden fruit...
apparently i never left...
as i was never apparently Adam...
problem is: you already know what
the forbidden fruit is...
and it's bothering you that i know
what the forbidden fruit is, for me...
now comes the juggling act
of me entertaining not making my will
into a resolve... which is to not:
act upon it...
maybe the apple was too complicated...
maybe a Layla circa 16 is...
a more obvious deterrent...
i think it's also called:
the prosecutor's *****...
but... enough gob and enougn dosh...
you can be the new st. andrew of windsor...
even in the taxi driver the ****
is 0... negated...
my my... what sort of language could
even become so casual...
the burning bridges of informality...
strapped to the formal tool of
orientating one's spatial creed of:
for the exchange of goods and services...
long gone the per se
of a school and a playground...
or some do... want to find and rekindle
the brotherhood of childhood...
they'll join the army...
they'll commit themselves to crime...
some men... it's hardly the adventure riddle
first lady's history society of
rhode island's desperate housewife club...
but...
it's hardly a deviation from imagining
how fudge is packed,
or for that matter: sausages...
a major faux pas...
some e. e. cummings... and what would never
become a code(d) poo'em...
but... for what today had to offer:
and what i had to offer today;
it's enough... it's peaches and cream...
a well balanced butterfly of reciprocation...
it's a death... but a death with a promise
of returning: in situ...
although in situ is always a flexible
requirement when reincarnation is fiddled
with.
