. like cardinal Leto remarked, having received news from Versailles... why is it always the ******* French?
perhaps in a less crude manner,
drinking wine,
while eating raw fruits -
always a bad combination...
no *****, no meat?
bad idea... wine, and raw fruit
akin to strawberries?
irritable bowel movements...
- and that's because Einstein
didn't discover the concept of
gravity, in the format of: sideways?
in the form of orbits?
expansive waves...
that allowed for the elliptical interpretation?
like the old
argument:
(heliocentric) oval...
contra the (geocentric) circular
"concern" for...
whatever is up / down
sideways in
the Copernican terminology...
because there was ever a "shape"
concerning the universe,
and not a medium,
an extraction for the metaphor
for water,
gas, liquid, solid...
and the fourth aspect
of ancient elements:
its existence in a vacuous "space"?
- but i can't fathom the French at this point...
once upon a time...
one Frenchman equated the motivation
for a "summa summarum"
to be bound with a thinking,
and a curiosity...
the current fashion of Latin
abbreviations...
this... cogito ergo sum?
it's nonsense...
speak it long enough...
and you'll find yourself inclined
to suppose that cogitans per se:
is a motivation, an impetus to exist...
yet... so much of thought it "wasted"
or, rather, to craft an impetus to
"doubt", within the confines of fiction...
but the motivation has lost its
origin within the confines of doubt,
and has been replaced by
the Freudian unconscious,
a serialized phobia fest... notably
including a, clown...
originally, thought (per se) was
a secondary motivational outlet
that precipitated into being...
first came... doubt...
but... these days?
doubt is a conspiracy theory,
no longer an emotional thrill
to prop-up thinking...
and we have the French existentialists
to thank for this...
for they subverted their own
idea...
negation has replaced doubt
as the origin, and motivation
for thinking...
yet... this sort of "thinking",
has made, its materialization, so, so...
obscene...
i can hardly find it surprising while
i took to propping two worthwhile
economic outlets...
prostitution (since they will spend
the money i give them...
on things... i wouldn't even care
for propping up)...
and... alcohol (scotch whiskey,
russian standard *****...
shveedish cider...
german beer)...
but how can you even claim an existence,
if...
there is no thrill...
of what is the secular expression of faith:
i.e. doubt?
how can you replace doubt -
a motivation for thinking, materialized
into being... with negation?
jean-paul Sartre attempted this inversion -
doubt has been replaced with negation
in his system...
it's like that cliche of an English
1960s ***-joke / ***-like...
this... frivolity over a blatant lie...
a lie so... bogus...
so ineffectual in translating a hidden truth
that... you allow it...
to care for the cheap comic aspect
of the execution...
but how can the French suddenly
feign to disbelieve their secularism -
resorting to the antithesis,
namely:
original
doubt motivates thinking,
which subsequently motivates
being within the confines of reason,
or rather, reasonableness...
20th century existentialists
negation "motifs" thinking,
which subsequently motifs
"being" within the freedom of non-reason,
or rather, unreasonableness...
and by negation,
i don't mean the atomic conceived softening
blow...
akin to: dis-ease...
i.e. (as i explained it to one old man
in a park, walking his dog):
a negation, or ease... a denial of...
how can the Cartesian model work,
when the 20th century French existentialists
began with the presupposition:
i deny, i think, therefore i exist?
where is the original thrill of
the secular aspect of faith, within the boundaries
of doubt?
gone... vanished!
****! a **** on the London tube,
during the rush hour,
during the heatwave
of the past month!
perhaps this only comes
as a method of assimilating an increased population,
within the confines of the Taoist maxim:
the best way to aid the world,
is to forget the world, and let the world
forget about you...
perhaps... the Andy Warhol 15 minutes
analogy...
that in order to encompass the individual,
the world, and the individual within it...
the approach had to change
from the original, exciting, exploration
genesis of thought, bound to the genesis
of doubt...
having to be replaced by
a genesis of denial...
the second tier of a secular society...
the zeitgeist of Herr Censor...
to filter through what we see so often,
faces, bodies...
but would be much more comfortable
having been bound to Plato's cave,
of complete shadow theater...
perhaps... but the original tier of
secular societies' alternative to church prescribed
articles of faith...
to have replaced
the thrill of doubt...
with this... Byzantine pillar of denial
as motivational groundwork for
thinking impetus
that becomes an article of being?
am i the only one to see the frustration,
how, people abhor their being,
being founded upon an act of denial,
rather than an act of doubt?
the once thrilling maybe (gnostic):
has become the stale, "i don't know"
(agnostic) - as if... people can't tell you
whether zebras have stripes!
where there was once an article
of secular faith (doubt) -
now?
there's not even that!
p.s.
there has to be a much needed new mantra,
all publicity: is bad publicity -
unless of course you're riding that
fame juggernaut and are paying
for your all-inclusive status akin
to madonna: since fame dies off
and you, none-the-less invest in the momentum...
one day where i drink a bottle of wine,
half a liter of whiskey,
and i'm apparently not "screaming" in
my sleep from the heat,
the whole, "apparently", as i retorted:
at 5:15am? i was alseep! i was asleep!
how can i stop screaming in my sleep
like a banshee:
the sleeper and the blind man both see
eye to eye regarding the future to come...
one day without engaging in internet
content: of my own accord,
next day? this... this... lethargy builds
up in me... i end up thinking:
i can't do this any more,
this insomnia culture globalism of
24h news reels is tirying me,
i pick up the sunday newspaper
which i found to be respecteable...
the sunday times,
i peer into the magazines...
toxic masculinity,
desire: what three women want...
i'm bored...
well more tired than bored,
bored-tired...
what women want:
what an exhausting question...
**** fantasy, beta-male provideer...
yada-yada-yada...
the only relaxing aspect of the day
(apart from the shade) is watching
england beat india in the cricket...
i always loved cricket sport terminology:
50 overs... innings...
wickets... 6 throws of the ball in an over...
the rest? i'm no atlas...
i don't like the world crashing in on
me with all its problems...
not because i don't have the right
advice to give,
but i remember the most modern secular
motto about giving advice borrowed
from Athos of the creation of alexandre dumas:
the best advice? to not give advice...
you cannot be held accountable
for giving bad advice: and people complaining,
or good advice and leaving
people in your sphere of influence...
asking for more - non verbatim... of course...
second categorical imperative?
tao...
the best way you can help
the world: is to forget the world,
and let the world forget you...
you only need two absolute
maxim vectors to orientate yourself
in this world,
a third is nice, but: it can be kept loose...
at least two on a tight leash...
but one night spent drinking,
not writing anything:
and i am... spent!
the boogieman of england's
persistent complaints...
the muslims are not integrating,
the english: we should give them more
ground...
o.k., o.k.... joe peshi in the role
leo getz in lethal weapon II...
i too had to integrate!
i said: like **** if you think i'll give up
my native tongue when spoken in private...
you're not getting it...
i'll spreschen ihre zunge, no problem,
i'll even write you pwetty free verses to boot!
but, guess what?
i will not force you to eat my
sauerkraut, my schnitzels,
my smoked sausages,
my raw herrings etc.,
integration does not work
within the confines of: pampering to a people
expected to meet you half-way...
what happened when the polonaise attempted
to meet the english half-way?
brexit...
oh come on guv'... is there a ******* tram
echoing its way out of my eye
when you peer into it while i attach
an index finger to the bottom lid to give
you a clearer picture?
25 years in england: no englush girlfriend:
i guess all the english girls just love, just love love
being ***** by 9 pakistanis
daubed in gasoline...
hey: they **** thrill...
i'm tired of the weakness of the english,
the humpty-dumpty nature they are imposing,
self-cencorship,
appeasing, like neville chamberlain...
bringing back the munich agreement...
not on a piece of paper,
instead... waving a scrap of a toilet roll...
so the english could wipe their own *****
on the promises of the germans...
if this really hurts the northern monkies...
guess how much it hurts the sourthern fairies...
(well... fairy, is a designated region surrounding
devon, bristol, hardly a ******* fairy in essex)...
why am i foreigner and i share
the same nausea of the natives,
exhausted by the narratives?
i guess the english didn't like the polonaise:
but the polonaise are to blame...
came here with a list of benefits they could claim:
without having even lived 5 years among
the natives... housing benefits, child benefits...
believe me: the polonaise are the only
people in the world that hate each other...
to the extent of citing bitter criticisms...
whenever i pass through warsaw to see my grandparents
i am gripped with a sickness:
this homogeneity is too much for me...
shove me back into the east end of London...
too much of the same genetic material...
and that's when the language i am keeping
(seemingly for vanity reasons) fizzles out
into your basic encounter and that basic reminder
that circa 40 million speak it too,
better or worse, but they speak it...
of all the festivals? download...
i wish...
glastonbury? not my thing...
kylie? i'll concede: slow? live, with instruments,
rather than the studio original...
wasn't that a cover of
bowie's fashion?
sure as hell sounded similar...
but i heard the cure were playing...
so while writing my father's invoice
i made myself a paperclip bracelet...
i figured... "let's just pretend to be there"...
and no, the 1980s weren't that bad when
it comes to music,
not now, by comparison...
the cure's kiss me, kiss me, kiss me (1987)
release?
one of those rare albums you can
listen to akin to reading a book...
but there's still that persisting
exhaustion... i came from under communism,
from under the iron curtain,
but at least there was the economic aspect
of communism involved...
only today i watched the story
of the terrible inversion of english jursprudence,
i.e.: guilty until proven innocent...
the 1975 case of the silesian vampire...
an innocent man was hanged...
the original vampire?
smashed his wive's head in,
then his childrens', then he set himself
on fire...
then again: the tragedy of those
rare cases of being presumed guilty
rather than innocent...
then the reverse: presumed innocent rather
than guilty and getting away with it,
through the parody of death
and the non existent god...
there could not be anything more exhausting
than communism without a communist
economic model...
this current state of affairs in the west:
cultural marxism and the yet to be discovered
antithesis of cultural darwinism...
i'll use the cartesian chirality for a moment:
sum ergo cogito...
i don't like using political terms...
but... liberal (classical) - i don't even know
what sort of thinking goes into the label -
in the east? the liberals are exhausted
by a resurgent nationalism within
the newly acquired capitalist system...
in the west? the liberals are exhausted
by an insurgent communism within
an ageing capitalist system...
on a side: seriously, why even bother
engaging in any sort of "public intellectual"
debates when the public are only
discussing two books: 1984 and brave new world...
**** it, might as well talk to a camel jockey
who only own and rides the waves of
time in this world only using one...
muhammad...
whom Khadija **** Khuwaylid
would probably whip into his young
respectable shape...
and this is how Ezra Pound comes
into rememberance:
usura... at least the muslims do not
play into the game of usury:
of interest... borrow a quid,
pay back £2.33...
that's the only way you can
gain respect of the muslims:
if they truly were the money lenders
of this world: which they aren't...
unless a newly blessed...
among the philistines and the proselytes...
england is such a tiresome project,
even on the outskirts of London...
i'm being dragged down by this intervention
of marxism: on a whim,
on a whimsical projection...
of "adding" values...
communism would have worked...
in exceptional circumstances...
poland... circa 1945 - 1990...
syria: the current year...
to whatever year is demanded...
exceptional as in: war torn...
where was the marshall plan
for poland, when there was one
for sweden (neutral) and switzerland
(also neutral)?!
black youths bothered about
the summer holidays,
having to live in council flats,
concrete goliaths...
want to know what it feels like
when entire cities are like council
estates,
with only pockets of remaining
free-standing houses among
overshadowing council flats?
nee bother...
sure... in a country where:
the house is the castle and there's a labyrinth
of castles constituting outer suburbia...
balconies... that's what the soviet
models had... balconies...
where women could grow flowers...
concrete staccato gardens in the sky...
the blocks of flats in england
didn't have balconies (sky gardens,
esp. the early ones, massive fault)...
i spent one summer reading
bertnard russell's history of western philosophy...
lying in my grandparent's balcony,
in the shade...
watching passerbys among
the barking dogs of the neighbours...
one day, one ******* day!
and i'm already exhausted from the castrato
english narrative...
pandering to the people you expected
to integrate...
no! you're not changing your standards...
your standards are perfectly reasonable!
i'm tired of the english pandering
to the sort of people who, will, not,
integrate!
i integrated in a way
of respecting both the english culture,
as well as hiding / preserving my own...
why don't i just do the following:
pisać po polsku?
like some czesław miłosz?
ah... good point... at what point
is the standard of integration appreciated?
when nothing is preserved?
surely integration is supposed to
accommodate some variation
of preservation?
i might add: that's a fine line...
preserve all? no integration...
preserve some? integration...
preserve none? no integration...
food is a cheap target to example
with...
it's a low hanging fruit...
given that even i find indian cuisine
the most superior in the world...
food is a cheap target concerning integration...
but the niqab?
when the local english authorities
are employing face-recognition
technology and when testing it...
are forcing people to uncover their faces,
subsequently arresting them out of protest...
but not the women wearing the niqab...
out of? out of what?
a secular society shouldn't be allowed
to discriminate against any religion...
it should discriminate against: all religions!
isn't that what the secular ideology
is all about? the... softcore version
of soviet atheism?
secularism of the west (miltary-industrial
complex)...
"vs." soviet atheism of the east
(scientific-industrial complex)...
i'm still so ******* tired
of this bogus trap of "necessary"
commentary.
