to note, i am always eager to become
a sponge at the end of the day,
having soaked up anything of interest
throughout the day, to later squeeze it
out onto a page with words,
four points of consideration,
and the obvious fifth unrelated to yesterday
through to today: sunsets in march.
1. the documentary film
cyborgs among us -
and my, what a dull etymological
study...
cipher- or even psy-
psi-? that's stretching it...
2. making dinner today, schnitzel
with home made fries,
plus two salads,
grated apple and carrot
with sour cream and garnished
to taste, the other being blanched
leak with a mix of mayo and sour
cream, opening the richness of the mayo
with white vinegar, sugar to taste...
the anatomy of a poached chicken
corpus that was used to make a nice chicken
broth, soup, with added carrots, an onion,
leak, root parsley...
what is the most tender meat on a chicken?
answer? the neck.
3. if you're not serious about drinking
on any said day, don't begin with a monkey,
i.e. 100ml of any 40% alcohol, esp polish
*****, unless if course you want to wake
up an unsatiated monster
who will rob the ******* drinking cabinet
and sit in minus 6 degrees at night
on a balcony blinking at the moon
writing berserker poetry wishing
it was (i.e. the beast, high on shroom) -
ease into a soft pouch of Bailey's liquor
and you'll be fine...
4. never mind the cyborgs,
the mutants, the anomalies are already here,
well, seeing what the end result will actually
be for the average boy genius,
tattoos, piercings, cyber-punk
and implant magnets,
not exactly the upper tier of the mad engineer
and his special guinea pig at the cyber Olympics,
after all, to compete is not to distribute,
and to not distribute is to face that music
and speak of the middle men of power
who already have the high end and the low
end of th robotics enterprise,
thanks to the cyber punks in the dingy
caves, cyber-hacking templates for
those in the higher and highest stratum
of the movement...
the mutants? 20 / 19 is the magic number,
from the onset of chernobyll and my birthday...
if the Scandinavians had a whiff of the fallout
and we're talking atomic winds...
and my great grandmother telling me that
as the breeze past the were lanes in the trees
interchangeable autumn and spring,
couples of metres of autumn, then spring,
autumn, spring... in one giant bogus farce...
сорок город... or rather city no. 40...
the facilities, built by the soviets
in retaliation to the amrican first drop...
for every worker of the facility
and agent was ascribed to monitor their every move,
city no. 40 was not like your romance with
the Greek city-state, it was deemed a closed
city (an official term), people could leave it
and come back, but no one could
go in without military planning,
city no. 40 was revealed after
Perestroika as ozoirsk, prior to residents
of city no. 40 had to lie that they lived
in cheladin on Lenin st.,
the city itself? claim to fame as providing
Litvinenko plutonium tea...
beneath it, and beside it,
death like, a bed lined with 30 tonnes of
plutonium waste, and 50 tonnes of
weapon-grade plutonium...
the Маяк incident of 1957...
nadezdha kupetova added just the right
of glamour to the streets of Paris...
another worthwhile mention
of closed cities around the world,
similar to city no. 40...
well? what a nice bedtime story they
tell you, about the city of Mercury, Nevada,
otherwise known as, area 51...
i guess it's better talking about aliens
than talking about what's behind this curtain
lies... area 51, Mercury, Nevada, has as much
to do with aliens as Charlie Chaplin has to
to do with ******, because it's not as easy
as pointing out that ****** actually borrowed
Charlie's moustache.
