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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2018
i've seen the commentary...
but let's do the ratios...
youtubers sometimes tend to boast
about their subscribes,
notably dr. steve turley,
100K (100,000)
and styxhexenhammer666
  30K (30,000)...
   yes, i know that a chris isaack
track is, a tad bit too much
reminiscent of Abba...
point being? my turn...
so...
        the ratio... i have 138
followers... but my post popular
"poem" ranks at around
   4,700 views...
an average dr. steve turley video
ranks in at 20,000,
and with subscribers numbering
100,000...
          whole styxhexenhammer666,
30,000 subscribers, but
at average counts of views at hovering
past the 1,000 mark...
now the ratios...
please let me be wrong, please
let me be wrong...

0.5 for dr. steve turley
lopsided ratios:
100,000 / 20,000....

styxhexenhammer666
comes in at 30...
30,000 / 1,000...

me?
i come in at... ha ha!
5,700 / 138
34.057...

           i'm not boasting...
but i hate to see decent people boast
about their prescription rates,
but then...
                 0.029...
but within the confines of
   giving an answer back...
you get the picture...
their viewers plummet...
the ratios do not add up...

i'd boast, sure as hell i'd boast...
but... i sorta don't feel like it...
i never saw the bonus side of boasting
when it came to numbers...
more subscribers,
than views?
           big ******* problem...

so... proud, concerning, what?!
oh... wait...
i just figured this out
differently...

0.033 (styxhexenhammer666)
and 0.2 (dr. steve turley)...

oh wait... dr. steve turley: circa 74,000
subscribers...
and the average viewership
of a video circa 21,000?
    3.52....
              0.02837....

ola! village people!
          counter ratios...
views : subscribers
counter to subscribers : views
(in ratio)....

            that age old relativism
of "success"...
give me a minute, i need to work
on the schematic rubric...

    views : subscribers              |         subscribers : views

(a) ~5700 ÷ 138                                        (a) 138 ÷ ~5700
                                = 41.30                                           = 0.024

(b) ~1000 ÷ ~30,000                               (b) ~30,000 ÷ ~1000
                            = 0.033                                          = 300

(c) ~21,000 ÷ ~70,000                         (c) ~70,000 ÷ ~21,000
                  = 0.284                                                           = 3.52


(a) denoting me,
(b) denoting sythexenhammer666
(c) denoting dr. steve turley

so wait, give me a minute...
since we're all so happy
******* a boasting match...
i have... less subscribers...
but  more views...
than people who have more,
subscribers... but less views?

i know i'm fiddling with the numbers...
but to use but one instance...
i have more views than
i have subscribers...

while these youtube vloggers have
more subscribers than
they have views...

           interesting...
but if everyone's going to be playing
the ******* numbers game...
i thought:
might as well bring by bucket and *****
into this sand-pit,
and see if i can play along
with these kids...
citing my attempt at a massive *****...
you never know:
it could work!
Alex Jul 2018
My parents say no,
Stay away from YouTube.
It is all filled with wrong,
Nothing good comes out of it

But what they don't understand,
Is the real reason I watch
And they don't get,
That some are very good.

Without YouTubers, I never would get to laugh
My days filled with boredom and sadness
Without them, oh my oh my
So many sad sons and daughters...

You would have a shell,
Filled with not much.
Just a shell with probably more scars,
Than you could ever count.

These YouTubers, bring some out of depression
It's the only thing they have left in this world
The only thing they can look up to,
Because you're never around.

So let them watch,
And let them laugh
Because some Youtubers,
Are all they have left.
Ria Aug 2014
words are so complicated when trying to describe someone who you really adore and admire
there are 26 letters in the English alphabet but why does it feel like there should be more?
so here are several reasons why i cherish bianca

number one: she is so understanding and easy to talk to, like at first i thought she was an untouchable force; some sort of female celestial being you know
i was shocked she followed me via twitter and that's how we met
we both were sad
yep, sad that's the word to describe it
a gloomy looming figure standing on top of your heart

number two: she told me who she wrote about, (i don't know if you remember lil' sunflower) but i asked her once
-and mind you, i was terrified of how she'd react because i was so interested and i usually ask other writers, poets, artists who they wrote about.
however, bianca answered truthfully and calmly
in fact she sad nobody asked her this before and i was perplexed why people didn't ask her before in the past

number three: she's like a sunflower,
why? she is such a darling, she's so sweet and she brightens the day by smiling right back at the sun. she needs to rest at night though, so she reads and listens to music and rests just like a sunflower
she also has a knack of cheering me up just like a sunflower

number four: this reason may be stupid but i actually remember her name, so many people i meet i forget their name quickly but hers sticked
i remember her, this is important: i feel like this is my subconscious trying to tell me something. it may seem farfetched but i believe she's special somehow, i may be crazy for saying this....but yeah lol

number five: she has goals in life
this darling has real aspirations in her time here, which i admire about her

number six: her fashion/makeup factor is so on point
we have similar tastes in fashion and makeup hence we watch the same youtubers and such, i really like this about her
it shows more of her quirky and interesting personality

number seven: lucky seven, she loves tea
i don't mean she just drinks it, she breathes tea,
we like the same types as well: none of that nasty berry tea (sorry)

number eight: she can understand me, she listens
bianca listens to my ridiculous little rants all the time even if they're stupid and tedious and i really thank her for this, i go to her when i feel like the four walls are closing in on me and she really does listen to what i have to say

number nine: we plan on meeting someday...
when we both gain some self-confidence and when a jolt of adrenaline kicks in, i'm super excited

number ten: i know there are more reasons but this is where this letter shall end today
she puts up with my stupid imessage not working and the dms on twitter suffice for our friendship, sigh it's annoying but true

i love you darling dear, i hope you have a wonderful night!!

sincerely,
Ria **
this is a letter to one of the sweetest people i know on this odd lil planet
Mateuš Conrad Aug 2018
.perhaps it's a good thing,
that i don't succumb to witty
rhyming poetry...
i hate rhyming poetry as much
as Bukowski hated disney...
Homer didn't rhyme...
  and all the better for it...
this rhyming fetish,
whereby, when you start
rhyming, succumbing to
some quasi orthodoxy?
   getting caged?
       better than rhyme...
   noticeable signs of impromptu,
and absolutely no, so
signs of editing...


      if god is dead in philosophical
discussions...
then rhyme is dead
in poetic composition...
    we, really don't need curriculum
poetics for GCSE students...
cages, entrapment,
   not bothering Stendhal from
the brink of a post-existentialist
despair sitting in
that other graveyard,
  the library shelf...
    and seriously?
    why Jane Austen on the 5 quid
banknote, and not Mary Shelley?

and there's a reason why i will
not make a single youtube video...
why?
       on a certain level of the popularity
stratum,
   it's become this,
  american nostalgia for high school,
the gossiping, the undermining,
the atypical Brutus confidant circle
of "content" creators...
   net-novellas -
   a bunch of people my age...
******* up to the tele-novella
       ergonomics that Polish grandmothers
watch, imported from Turkey...
or the English 1985 Eastenders
soap opera...
   ******* have to be different,
through and through,
drive on the "wrong" side of the road,
then they have to start calling
tele-novellas, soap-operas!

short attention span, sure sure...
no problem...
          do your ******* homework
during the week, watch the omnibus
on the weekend...

what's this one youtuber, who said
something about the advertisement blockers?
by the way...
   Samsung?
     all videos have been demonetized...
perhaps on the odd occasion
a vevo ad... but that's about it...

       advertisement blockers?
  seriously?
   are these people so ******* impatient
that they can't locate the mute button?!
i see an advert: MUTE...
   i think of something,
   to craft an anti-zombie
   pause, moment, anything...
    why block advertisement -
when you can merely mute it...
and listen to the vacuous sound
of celestial orbits?

        within a certain tier of content creators,
it's already the ****-smearing,
soap opera, back in a high school
playground "nostalgia"...
  sorry... not for me...
but thank you, for taking the effort,
to take a reed, dive into a lake,
and breath through it,
while remaining covert, hidden...

         again... numbers numbers numbers...
i'm still exercising a freedom of
"speech", but i rather prefer the
practice of writing, as the appropriate
res extensa of the vector origin
for this cascade, the res cogitans
as it were...

   and there really are only two forms
of nuanced language:
a study of philosophy,
   or the study of: law...
      but this youtube **** show...
   this: back in high school,
no revenge time...

                 i only tuned in for the music,
but then these youtubers started
propping up in the recommendation
list for the music i was listening to...

die krupps postscript suggestions
came up with x,
   wooden shjips came up with y...
lao che came up with z recommendations...

on a side note...
   ha ha!
    mark manson's book...
  the art of not giving a ****...
it mentions Bukowski...
  only read the sample...
        that he was a, loser...
and loser is specifically derogatory
term in American society...
to which i reply?
   and what the **** did
mark manson, actually win?
Bukowski at least won
a childhood where his father beat
him silly in the ******* bathroom...

you haven't exactly won anything,
mr. manson...
   if you didn't lose anything
to begin with;

and if you have?
   let's see the follow-up of
to your bestseller,
         of "not giving a ****";
but we won't, will we?
      - hardly brown-nosing,
the guy's dead,
1997... i have to keep
the integrity of the dead
on my bookshelf...
      
      who reads this
reverse masochism of the self-help
literature genre, anyway?
you can't even use these books
as a counter to a decent roll
of toilet paper!
   unless you want to scratch,
ahem, sorry, wipe your *** with
the pages, and start an **** bleeding!
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
.remember this youtube channel: harakiri diat...

i think this genre of music has a name: brutalism...
last night i watched 50 book recommendations
by the cosmicsceptic...
beside his oxford specific titles relating
to his philosophy and theology degree...
came the fictional books...
i presumed that i didn't read anything going
into this video...

i can be forgiven for not reading a christopher
hitchens when i've read some knausgård...
perhaps i presume to have not read anything...
because... i do quiet enjoy the act of reading...
so much so that... only scraps remain for me that
are: useful...

i can't imagine finding any use from a book
if it's not already in it...
apparently i'm not so under-read as i led myself
to believe...
but this is not about literature...
i was looking for a genre to encompass...
say... vomito *****...
the klinik...
the soft moon...
but i couldn't come to anything of worth...
not until i foraged for the more obscure...
the raw pulp...
primitive knot - ******* of brutalism...
again... the channel harakiri diat
has the music covered...
zeit und geist... i am the fire...
let's keep it clean...
i would go as far as to include
bohren & der club of gore: midnight radio
into this whole mix...

as much as i'd love to push for die krupps...
no can do... their stuff is polished goods...
vomito ***** is polished goods...
but there's still something raw about them...
once upon a time there was this "thing"
about doom metal... electric wizard... etc.,
but i can say... this new brutalism is...
by far... better than a gavin mcinnes diet
of punk... i never liked punk...
i never liked punk as i never liked rap...
hip hop yes and all that jazzmatazz fussion...
some solid grit...

after all... Romford, Essex...
probably the last bastion of the music shop...
a his-master's-voice with a vinyl section...
my idea of a tennis-court,
a cafe, a swimming-pool, a park,
a church even... because you can never really
own too many records...

and between me and you:
what's the difference between me and my neighbor?
he plays his music, mostly rap...
on the speakers... and sings along to the songs...
he finishes the day with some r'n'b and stops
singing... i take over...

headphones in, 6ft2 posture hunched in a chair
scribbling with chicken-pecking precision
some long lost "hierogylphic"...
and of course: in between some, literature...
but it was only about the music...
youtubers ruined youtube as much as
the "legacy media"... or the next will smith...
"vlogger"...

once upon a time youtube was a haven for people
like me: who only used it to find new music...
somehow the glitches started and the music video
recommendations died: youtube thesaurus algorithm
became corrupt or something...

would i ever sing-along to a song?
not if it's as raw as a stake-tartar and the dish
needs to be served with merely thinking to compliment it...
i'll repeat what i've already said:
gentlemen! the jukebox is ******!
- and i was the type to listen and then buy
a physical copy... even though i didn't have to...
i could go back and listen to the same stuff again...
out of principle...

no car = no car insurance no road tax...
no mobile phone = no... bill...
in terms of primitive knot, though?
would you rather go blind or deaf?
that's a tough one...

listening to primitive knot or watching
a latex lucy b.d.s.m. short *****-flick...
i know: it's the obvious synonym overlap...
but at the same time it isn't...
gimp suits or all those other unicorns of the bedroom...
but no... the most forbidden act i ever managed
to fathom in a brothel was a kiss...
one time i pulled out a ***** from a drawer
when she went with the money to the madame
of the parlour and coming back asked me:

do you want to use it?
*** to me is like rye bread...
it's not a ******* croissant...
toasting alone will do the trick...
language is already complicated by necessity...
of crosswords and the boredom
that most mono-lingual people feed not having
learned a crossword of bilingualism...
why would i inhibit this fact of voyeurism?
apparently there's something immoral watching
someone get pleasured...
perhaps i should find some rare footage of
a peter anthony allen hanging...
or Leroy Hall, Jr. at the Riverbend (Nashville, Tennessee)?
perhaps i should start jerking off on
a whim, from time to time...
over execution footage?

perhaps it's that sort of conundrum...
you see someone eating ice-cream and enjoying it...
you therefore? buy yourself a cone?
god almighty... but the added responsibility
of also owning the fridge and freezer
when that spontaneous whim passes...
after all... there's always that diet of...
the girls jerking off into the camera...
which is probably the least guilt-riddled form
of ******* on the planet...

hey! if she's doing it... and you sat down
on the throne of thrones to do the no. 1 and the no. 2...
let's call it no. 3 and taking a baptism later (no. 4)...
esp. if you haven't been circumcised...
at this point: i feel sorry for the circumcised men...
that do not live within the rigours of a hasidic orthodoxy:
the circumcised man: the subservient woman...
the circumcised man: the woman in a niqab...
i guess that's how it works, no?
imagine the problems...
if the man were circumcised... but the woman...
was not supposed to pay any sort
of "penalty"...

then again: one would expect to find the best
***** under the crucifix...
stigmata pin-head and all those dittos...
and heads... but i am a connoisseur... 1970s...
1980s... but it must be Italian...
no... not German... and certainly not English...
chances are: yes, French... but more or less
Italian... and it's always on a whim...
connoisseur... well there are videos where
you can find a pregnant woman parading her bump...
and squeezing her *******...
and that's about it...

i want to imagine what those 9 months
of pregnancy must feel like...
for better or for worse... the oral demands...
perhaps i haven't written about this sort of stuff
for a long enough period...

now an interlude where i smoke a cigarette
is bound to be... exquisite...

it sure as hell is the safest way to arrive
at some sort of *** that's purely plesurable:
a gradation of *** without consequences...
but is this a celebration?
a woman ******* on camera with
her toys is a celebration...
me my ******* and the phantom hand...
there's no theatre in it...
the utility of taking a ****, taking a ****...
doing "it"... then having a shower...
and then "repressing" it...
not having "repressed" it to begin with...

i did a month once...
i came to the conclusion... that i'm more impulse
prone, i was planning my next brothel
visit... after a month i was still planning it...
then i relieved myself and...
would you believe it? the impetus dissolved!
i don't know what these right-wing
europa-identitarians are coming up with...
so much attention on:
i enjoy reading as much as i enjoy taking
a ****... notably the constipated kind
but esp. more of the diarrhoea nature...
hello mr. **** hello mrs. geiser!

perhaps that's why i wouldn't ever be a fan
of ******... i enjoy taking a **** too much...
or perhaps i'm just too old fashioned...
but this began as something orientating oneself
around a music genre...
how did it come down to pornogrpahy?

jean genet: the thief's journal...
i was really hoping for something marquis de sade
-esque... there was still too much:

solo girl does her bit...
so well in fact... that... buying a *** doll
must only remain a h'american thing...
*** is already shamed when marriage comes
along in anglo-saxon societies...
notably the inflateable sheep or doll
on those normie stag parties...
*** and children and the joke is:
you can only have good ***...
if you're ******* for procreative reasons...
bypassing the ****** for the sake
of the children...

otherwise... well no ******* doesn't help...
if... there's no wife in a niqab in public...
or some kosher wifey either...

i still have mine and i will keep that...
as... almost... a security policy...
a prenup...

pauk-mumije (1982 bosnian post punk)...
perhaps brutalism is just post-punk?

i remember it quiet clearly...
i still can't fall asleep without listening to music...
as i couldn't back then...

otchim - james dean...
the bass and no guitar riffs until the chorus
comes... and... ha ha... it's in fwench!
just like i could **** her without listening
to really... atmospheric music...
by 2007 standards that was equal to:
the dandy warhols...
but that was 2007...

these days... hardly candles and
black sun dreamer - post-traumatic stress disorder...
back then it was candles
and type o negative...
the candles and... catching a mouse...
no trap... a labyrinth of obstacles
and she sitting on the bed giggling while
i played being a maine ****...
and i did catch the mouse...
held it by the tail... let it lose on the stairwell...
and then watch its traumatised body try to
find a hole... scuttle and then fall...
to a depth of a greater serenity of
a... vermin's suicide: with no monkey sing-along
of... this mouse has done the cheese...

and it was sad when i was naive and
i accidently killed my hamster in a similar
fashion... but some ***** Abel...
but at least the mouse allowed me to
circumstance a Pontius Pilate relief...
and she asked me: what did you do with the mouse?

oh... it committed suicide.

chicago research compilation... tape CRO15...
perhaps listening to the cure
or depeche mode was once a "thing"...
no... burtalism is not post-punk...
pisse - kohlrubenwinter...
red zebra - i can't live in a livingroom...

my one personal joke...
in england i started calling the livingroom...
the civilroom...
pokój cywilny - if it must stress the St. Cyril...
so it must: комната гражданский..
brutalism is not post-punk...

stiff little fingers... are punk's creamy pie...
oto - bats...
bodychoke - cruelty
       "            - red dog
       "            - the red sea
legendary divorce - age with us...

somehow more of my ****** valnetine...
and less sonic youth...

i do remember pretending to date...
at high school...
the first question was always a nervous
build-up to the question:
'what music are you into?'

weird party - acne puncture...

well would you believe it...
some of us are still after something that
finds no sort of aleviation
in the alternative that's an aydin paladin
video...

POPEiUM - papacidal coronation...
Münn - II. in defeat...
a john peel: a no john peel...
the sort of piano that makes
a debussy or a satie blush...
AMORT - die hexes...

the current standard of... the stoogers...
or stooges... and... air no concern...
the limbo artifact of ***...
formerly known as the... limbo pickling...
of the undead...
and all those that come with an eczema and
the scabs of leprosy...
and vampires: those syphilitic zombies...

susumu yokota, and all those stupid,
solipsictically assured cats, grinning...
menace of the grin!
full cheese impromptu with a display
of teeth!
a night promenade into the forest
listening to: demdike stare's tryptych...

i haven't tried... but from 1pm through to 5pm...
i could phone classic.fm and ask
for... a song to be played in my name...
perhaps i'll phone in...
if i catch the right "once upon a time"...
and find it... as i found...
christopher young's: something to think
about...

**** and music... many interludes...
perhaps some little borat-britain references...
and then: none...
per 1K there's a cult...
per 10K there's a counter-culture...
come the 918 apostles... of jonestown...
there's no leftover for no...
alternative...

the restless mind starts its exercise
in petty squabbling....
why weren't i the respected,
vatican proof for a plumber!
why wasn't i to become,
the undertaker!

i too feel: the claustrophobia
of the ensue of the paragraph...
what is primitive knot contra U2...
mainstream? sod it: knot it a blood
and a sundail!
blood dries... the mercurial mythology
dries a solidity of
something becoming more an echo...
and less a sodden-print of the foot...
which the tide will,
nonetheless relate itself as...
worthy of being erased...

the violin concerto...
the piano nocturnes...
and the symphonies...
and the operas...
later the ballet...
beside... a chopin would write a nocturne...
a debussy would write one also...
but...
debussy writes a nocturne...
satie writes a nocture...
but a schumann?! a schubert?!
they write a concerto!
none of their work could have been written
in solide with a solipsistic monologue
escapade...

perhaps i can only appreciate chopin via
his nocturnes...
otherwise i am not convinced...
the greats wrote.... symphonies...
operas... never accompany pieces
to make their instrument an oak...
a tree... and not something resdual
to later make a mahoganny piano / table
of...

pianists! you only hear of their prowess!
Liszt! Chopin! Debussy! Satie...
exclaim as if to: suprise the "audience"
with either knowledge or...
adoration?
can a violinist make the same sort
of statements?
a pianist will play... with an accompaniment...
he will never become the maestro
predisposition
of the polyphony...

a chopin only heard the piano...
a debussy only heard a piano: solo...
a beethoven or a mozart...
what violin solo? what of a violin concerto?!
is that a trick question?
old father bach...
no instrument: well...
shubert loved allowing a piano ****
a bunch of harem violins in a harem crescendo
of a concerto...

but a nocturne? the polyphony of...
the "polyphony" of...
two pianos playing side-by-side...

- the joint"laura's"1967 kk proto prog freak phych -
no, that's not it...
- and no... it's not omega - gyöngyhajú lány...
- well **** on me...
locomotiv moscow is not a band...
but an f.c.... beg your pardon...

as i do hope that i am wrong about
a minor "technicality"...
somehow classical, essential...
and nothing worth or being able to: hum...
or sing-along-to...
always serious and finding outlets
of a necessity in being: thought of...
perhaps there's this grand:

technicality of not finding oneself sighing
or crying for that matter...
vaughan williams is more required...
for the expanse of a cowboy movie
horizon...
or that technical term...
the: deconstruction of the dutch angle
in the perspective shot...

but we don't talk about *** as much
as we don't engage in it...
and we certainly don't talk about music...
the absolute brutal needs to be found...
a butterfly a lotus a kiss in a brothel...
all else is... the slaughterhouse....

this has been a...
no Friday night in Soho can match-up...
i've spent better nights in
Amsterdam...
and no... the red light district was
never going to be a cannabis cafe for me...
or some Vermont-esque quest for a better
pint of ale...
*** was on sale...
there was not real point of making
any money from it in the medium of fiction...
it was always going to be
ugly, frictive... below par of expectation...
but it was always going to
be fathomable... fathomable in a sense
of it being respected...
as a hierarchical undermining...

oh what since was, truly was concrete...
but the verbiage came along
and fiddled with the fog and the end-result
deems itself abstract...
there's the concrete of drought...
and the abstract of locust.
there's the concrete of a mountain...
and the abstract of a pyramid;
there's the concrete of death...
and the abstract of a mosileum;
after all... a grave is a coping mechanism
of someone who...
never began the inquiry... of mortality...
joking as a child might...
pretending to handshake his own shadow.

as i have found the antithesis of narcissus...
the man who fell in love with his shadow.
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2018
.there always comes a threshold of tedium, esp.around this time, when two sides are at each others' throats... you can't escape it, both sides are at each others' sides... you're either collateral, or the, "supposedly", dumb spectator... you're in it no matter what, but the point being: there's no winning or losing invoked, or involved... but after a while: the stale quality of the drama, the persistent repetitiveness of the content become - so ******* dry... you give off a whiff of a prune mentality worthy of an atypical English soap operatic manoeuvring... basic said to basic: i'm just tired of one side telling lies, but i'm also tired of the other side exposing the said lies... i'm tired of both.... it's pretty much me quintessentially, scratching my itching genital region whenever i hear one side and the other, attacking each other... scratching my itchy genitals is more entertaining than wartching these sides argue for the same ******-momentum: money! i'm starting to see: neither side having the high-ground... it's simply tiresome... and, as a message to content creators vs. legacy media outlets.. as a content ingesting mechanism of an individual worth: sorry... no... by now i can't tell the difference... what was once a dichotomy, has become a dualism... click-bait... i figured: i can't be expected to fathom a bias, either side... as far as i know... the alt.-media could be, just as well, covert mechanisms of the same paradigm of spewed opinion... who the **** is to say that these unique, supposedly "unique" youtubers are not subcontractors of the major media contracting apparatus? i realized there's a need to stop buying revenue, primarily based on the exfoliation of the exploitation of drama... i'm not smart, but i am drunk, and attentive... big ******* difference! and i know what a threshold of tedium implies... i know when original content becomes exhaustive... it implies: the content is no-longer original.

you'd think you'd be able
to escape the playground
drama sequence. of events,
given how people
make money n youtube...
apparently
that's not the case...
  i think i'll need another
whiskey to write this "critique"...
like a whiff of
bothersome flies...
    like: but unlike:
a whiff of bothersome flies...
fusiliers to the common
"rain" of canon fire...
        so much drama!
too much, to be exact...
        a vanity ****,
with anything but
the without attempts at claiming:
fair...
   to make videos
in order to simply make excuses...
what a waste of time...
    take up a career in drinking,
then you'll see what
sort of stupid **** sober people
get up to!
and, these, are,
sober, people? yes?!
  my god...
        if they're sober,
and i'm drunk...
           maybe i should stop drinking
and join the funfair of
soberness!
   then again...
god i abhor the drama
of some pumpkin mope glass
akin to a chimney-sweep
in the form of:
pittance for a Cinderella...
  the jokes goes along the lines
of:
back east there's a Cabaret...
back in the west there's the comedic
monologue of a stand-up comic...
back east there's no soap-opera...
back in the west:
   there's no tele novella -
which only old women
appreciate...
but there's soap opera:
which, even the english
class teachers advised not to watch,
encompassing girls as young
as 15...

with the said advice...
   how wonderful to be made
esteemed of...
     i could never blog using
video...
the whole medium is plighted
with an implosion...
           it imploded by the "sentiment"
to simmer solipsism...
   it's way beyond an echo
chamber...
   it's a claustrophobia...
i could never make video content...
because as far as i know:
only lazy people watch videos...
while the diligent people
read anything at all...

    i've grown tired...
simply... tired...
              of the video content...
i also remember the glory days
when i'd listen to music
on youtube...
  and later buy the merchant's
allure of goods...
pristine physical artifacts...
via the uncensored suggestions...

i hate drama...
the faking, the blood-sports,
you name it...
    for a while i tuned in...
now i'm thinking
about coupling
last.fm with youtube.com...

   i never paid, and i was also
never paid...
my concerns are not the concerns
of the creator throng...
    tired?
is tired the most simple word
to bind to an excuse?
no...
              i hate imploding
drama;
that gets me...
              
no wonder i write:
  it's overtly selective within the domain
of the regards to who actually
digests the content...
      video my lazy...
     video my lazy...
          writing has an imbedded
censorship,
that is a pseudo-censorship...
     thankfully more
women read, than the men that talk.
Diaz Feb 2016
My mind is here and there
run by neverending generator
it is black from the lack of emotions
yet colorful depending on life’s motion
Insane memory to remember seven different passwords to seven different usernames, completely reiterate lyrics of hundreds of songs, and raps from infamous youtubers, remembering the location of the keyboard because there is no time to look down, to remembering which button does what and when it should be used, before this one, after that. Yet, I cannot seem to recall what homework i had
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
****, i've just ran out of drafts, good news:
this 15th Dec. suspension on ola poetry.com
is going pretty well...
               well: as any worth that's the worth
of dealing with jealous people...

   only today i remembered myself,
shackled in the edinburgh university
never close to the Pleasance courtyard,
St. Andrew's Place...
       oh no, i didn't wish to live on the main
university campus, with its own canteen...
i wanted to learn chemistry,
but also perfect my cooking skills...
every single morning waking up to the sight
of the Salisbury Crags...
    one wild night i stayed up all night,
to walk up Arthur's Seat... returning from
the mountain (in the middle of a ******* city)
to buy myself some cornflakes and full-fat
milk...
   why would anyone even bother
with ******* Halls of residence...
   a university campus makes sense,
if you're talking about a city the size
of Warwick, or Brighton...
         but Endinburgh? to live in a university
bubble, in the middle of the city
like it's some sort of fortified "defiance"?
             where am i, at university,
     or the ******* high school canteen?!
i would still bring packed lunch...
          i liked the nicknames i acquired
over the years...
               goldilocks,
                  the strange fruit man (pomegranates,
passion fruit, sharon fruit, etc.),
                            viking...
   at times i would really love to hate myself,
but i found the stoic alternative of:
just laughing at myself...
   never mind that...
        ah... sweet sweet 18...
having discovered a new prog rock band
outside the top 50 mentioned in the mojo
music magazine while still in high school:
atomic rooster: death walks behind you...
tomorrow night, the devil's answer...
     i would plug in my electric,
put the piecyk (slang for amp) on the windowsill
and muse, full volume, blasting solo after
solo outside the window, trying to see if i could
make the Salibsbury Craig crumple
just a little bit...
                   mind you, in terms of playing
the guitar - i clearly remember Anthony
introducing me to tablature...
                        i can't read music, i wish,
but i can't...
    you really don't have to start with
smoke on the water, or iron man...
               death walks behind you is pretty
easy to learn, even without tablature...
even black sabbath... let's see if i remember
the strings correctly

e
G
F
D
A
E.... let's check.... ****...

                     e
                     B
                     G
                     D
                     A
                     E...      i'm pretty sure i'd still
be able to tune a guitar...
    i.e. make A sound like E on the 5th (divide)
   make D sound like A on the 5th divide...
   F like D on the 5th...
      G like F on the 4th divide...
     e like G on the 5th divide... i think that's right...
5th divide? you press down on the string...
and play E & A together, if they sound the same...
well... you're tuning a gee'tar...

                     e------------------
                     B------------------
                     G-----------------
                     D-------3---------
                     A-------------2---
                     E--1---------------  black sabbath - black sabbath
intro...
   but the next tablature will break
the camel's back...
           it's so... so... simple... & therefore
so genius... it goes against all of punk,
the punk of the rhythm section with only
3 chords... well... this song uses only 2 chords...

free - all right now... i still don't know how
mungo jerry's - in the summertime beat
all right now to the no. 1 spot in england...
  
                     e------------------
                     B------------------
                     G-------7---------
                     D--7----7----------
                     A--7----5----------
                     E--5---------------

                      (obviously you have to find
the rhythm yourself ADG 577 yourself,
       bouncing from a 1-2-1-2 on the EAD 577)...

i really should have succumbed
to teaching my former marijuana dealer's daughter,
a paranoid schizophrenic with an obsession
regarding the illuminati straight out
of Kingston ya'man Jamaica the guitar...

________
.well at least the english peoples
got one thing right,
brewing,
            name me an ale that
doesn't hide a hint / accent of
specific, or an irish stout,
       and i'll show you a cross-dressing
nun riding a chimera
coming from some german
convent, alright?


i guess it's just the tale
of the said / "unsaid" times...
    it's about to crank up the use
of cipher...
   if i get one haiku in old norse,
i'll be happy:
since, as much as i favour
   grammatical rules,
   i'm not a big fan of poetical
constraints...

hence?
    ᚱᚨᚦ ᚺᛟᚻᛖᚾᛋᛏᚨᚢᚠᛖᚾ
    
rað
hohenstaufen

       (plan)
                    which alludes to
          ᚠᚱᛖᛞᛖᚱᛁᚳᚴ  ᚨᚾᚾᚨᚱᚱ

frederick annarr (second) -

some prepositional words
will be missing,
notably the / a,
   direct and indirect articles...
but some prepositional
words might appear...

mind you, if i pull this project
off,
   and forget however many times
i have to ctrl + c / ctrl + p
   my way through it,
how i will have to
                  consult the english v.
old norse dictionary...

how i will also consult
                 futhorc runes
of the english,
         and the younger futhark
of old norse
over an aesthic squabble
when it comes to

             ᛄ / ᛅ - j (futhorc runes)                (ᛃ)

(not to be confused with ᚾ...
which... already exists in a modern
tongue, mein zunge...
          Ł,                     ł -    wom-bat...
see...
             i once heard a scientist
say: 'why bother swabbing
the inside of your mouth,
sending off your genetic
                                signature to
a company,
   to find out your ancestry?
   you'll naturally gravitate to it
                                                   anyway!')

and...           "kaunan" (ᚲ),
   i.e. before the whole mathematical
greater than >
                    and lesser than <
    became problematic,
ergo?

younger futhark ᚴ - k
                 (anglo-saxon) futhorc ᚳ - c (k) -

this could somehow work...
all i'll need is enough nouns and verbs,
prepositions will be troublesome,
given that modern english
is littered with this sort
of shrapnel...

                     but it's about time
to start to elevate the cipher,
if all the youtubers are jittery...
you know something's coming,
and it's not good...

i probably will stick to english
grammar,
   i can't promise a haiku,
         but at least...
          it will seem like...
speaking a language
                  from, my,
previous, now,
                   reincarnated, "self"?!
i don't believe in reincarnation
to begin with...
   it's too NPC for me,
and that's not even a reference
to mahjong solitaire;
   dunno...
     i once sat down and solved
one... then solved another...
i just don't like
        the whole:
there's only a limited number
of authentic souls,
   and they behave in a benign way,
soul-parasites,
while everyone is just plain
outright zombie.
- so this is the plan...
   rarely do i plan something...
might as well give it a shot...

****...
            beside that...
i do remember youtube's algorithm
when it was intelligent...
oh... 4 years ago... maybe even 2...
it behaved like
a thesaurus...
          glory days of exploring
music, i never even managed
to come across these current youtubers...
i couldn't care less...
the algorithm shifted from smart,
to dumb, real dumb...
     and then exploring new music
became a hag, not a hack,
a hag...
                       i'm not even
surprised to say that i never left
comments...
      why?
      i can sort that **** in my own
head, i don't need to comment...
                  oh right...
and if you're reading this soliloquy...
i supposed i never asked
for money.

p.s. good thing that i didn't
desire to consult the paragraph...
if it's poetry or "poetry"
or, more of the allure considering
it a soliloquy...
  well... imagine the claustrophobic
optics of your standard
   piece of paper...
in a book, with a paragraph...

this would never work in a paragraph.

p.p.s. seeing how
i didn't find the old norse
for not...
   but no: neinn (ᚾᛖᛁᚾᚾ)
alludes to a "missing" Tyr (ᛏ)...
which would elevate
the modern word not
               from an adverb
to the status of a definite article...
no and yes are not determiner
words for me,
they share the same article
status as the aesir and,
                                           esp. Tyr.

p.p.p.s.
   red ice tv disseminating
   ms. beat-box gala
                       for the ultimate
stut-stut-stuttering contenst
winner.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
it's almost like saying:
   atheism
                                   and theism, or deism
or whatever.

                                  it's rought comparison,
but that's the best i could ever hope
to allude to...

      concerning the aye, eye, i...

                       oko:                 eye,

                              okno:               window

     oczko:
                                       a little eye, typically
                       of a baby;

judasz / judas: the peeping hole
                                            in your front door.

                   bilingualism is like
a mongolian horde in terms
                                 of etymological
"struggles", i.e. introspections...

i can't even begin the platonic
                     assertion of form-morphing
that's translated into
     darwinism of
          monkey into an ape...

  as someone who's into artistotle more
than into plato, because he's more
into shakespeare's dialogues than plato's...

    i don't buy the platonic crap
in darwinism...
                                  it would be, perfect,
if we were all reduced to monkey form,
and picked out one type of monkey
as our origins...
             what, *******, point, would,
a ****-brick sized gorilla ever need to evolve?

      a gorilla that could wrestle a tiger
and pin him to the floor, while breaking his jaw?
the **** is this?!

                  or right... choose a chimp...
but not a macaque monkey...
                                 i'll just do what atheist
youtubers do...           in terms of language:
                                              ******* imbecile!
pointless platonic imbeciles!
              darwinism = platonism...
                  god, in the now, now, now...
        now i should be exhibit (c) in a zoo...
or playing that ******* wormhole of a game
that's the sims...
         eugenics didn't move it far along
the argument scale, that we needed
to play "god" while playing the sims...

there's nothing worth an aristotle in the framework
of darwinism...
               darwinism is platonic...
       it arises from the head, and the abstract,
rather than on the basis of the senses,
that said:
               as one hindu guru said:
why aren't there more monkeys evolving,
turning into neanderthals?

             the more atheists call others *******,
we'll be swimming ad infinitum ad nauseam
in circles, concerning ourselves with
   arguments, that... well...
                     are best summarised by a cat's
meow of concern for
                   the arguments in themselves...
           bo'h-                              -ring!
oh look,                  retards either direction;
if that's what humanism has come down to...

seriously... if i were a gorilla... why would
i want to devolve?
                              so i can be subordinate
to beta-males' taxation rules of governing me?
    punch the ******* in the face, and move on...

to me, aristotle would have rejected darwinism,
but plato? ooh hoo hoo... he'd be darwin's first disciple;
******* ponces.

  don't bother questioning whether
poetry requires objectivity...
               it's a non-objective form of expression...
   as it was never supposed to be...
    take your 1 + 1 = 2 elsewhere, and ponder it there.
#t
Bryce Jun 2018
It's political, isn't it
the ones who get the book deals
acting like actors
starry eyed
dreaming to be
the next Stephen King

******' sellout

entertainment
that's what wins
and who decides the words
a company on market street
in a big tower of steel and glass
coffee machine


people hate to be proven wrong
they hate to have their methods questioned
Geocentrism maintained until the atomic age
and even after

let go of preconceived notions
of ideology and dogmatic sheen
step away from petty partisans
perhaps then we can come together

you won't like it if it targets you
because today
our hearts are fragile
and we feel the instinctive
(instilled)
need to defend and revolt
against a system that is broken
in all the wrong ways

but tearing it down
and building back up
is always more tough
than simply,
agreeing
to disagree
and working
to find
a solution
somewhere
in between

c'mon
please wake up
don't keep eating soylent green
mean broadcasts and slanderous media
consultants that own the world beneath their words

Walt Disney (ABC): 92 billion
Comcast (NBC, MSNBC): 186.9 billion
Viacom (Paramount, CBS): 23.7 billion
21st Century Fox: 50.72 billion
Facebook (Instagram): 84.524 billion
Verizon (T-Mobile): 257.1 billion
AT&T (Sprint, Cricket): 444.1 billion
Google: 206.94 billion

These are the biggest industries in the world
manufacturing information
buying yours
selling you fabricated dreams
and hateful wishes
to turn you into time bombs
picketing angry on main street
buying pamphlets
buying lies
buying momentary good times
so that the dividends incessantly continue to fund

And you fear youtubers?
with thoughts
different than the conglomerates
and the fourth estate
in beded on the capitol building
drinking martinis
jacking themselves off on an american flag,
saying
Land of the free

silencing the opposition
quietly
behind the scenes
MKULTRA
greedy
and mean

and you'll eat it up
thinking you're kind
playing exactly the cards
they printed for you
and handing their printed money
over
with interest
siphoning the wealth of a generation
like ticks

but the solution is not to redistribute
it is to reinvigorate
the innovative
engine
and accept,
maybe,
that all states are doomed to die
eventually

but don't fear death
please
that's the first way
they get
in your skin
and through that wound
will inject you
with sin
You can hate me, call me whatever you'd like. Won't change the fact we'll look back and wonder....

why didn't we do anything sooner?
B Oct 2017
I don’t miss you
I don’t miss the always being pushed to the side
I don’t miss the being ignored
I don’t miss you always putting yourself first
I don’t miss you never listening to  my rants
I don’t miss me trying to tell you I’ve had a bad day
And you telling me your’s was worse
I don’t miss you thinking you deserved more than I did
I don’t miss you thinking you were better than me
I don’t miss you never showing up to anything that was important to me
I don’t miss our friendship







I miss talking **** in German class
I miss gushing about youtubers
I miss going to Sunrise after every school event
I miss having someone to make bad jokes
I miss having someone to fangirl with
I miss having someone I would tell all my secrets to
I miss going to Penn State to compete a poster
I miss our memories
Breeze-Mist May 2016
She has the same taste in music as me
We have a similar fashion sense
We both love science, orchestra, and doodling
We're both insane
We both love anime
There is a mutual possibility of blackmail
We tell each other everything
We like the same youtubers
We both don't always get along with our moms
We both had weird childhoods
We're the perfect lab partners
We love our Science Olympiad team
We both have family in other countries
We both sometimes resent the fact that our dads married our moms
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.murky are the forces, behind man's origins of intent, what freedom to succumb to a will, when the contradiction is in plain sight... the contradiction of competing wills, what inverted revision of the iron curtain must become apparent... man's inherent "concern" for free will, is nothing but the inherent desire to express it, by trampling on the "free will" of others... and then, the bonding servitude on the platitudes of concepts, akin to power, if not a slave unto a man, a slave unto an idea, a phantom man, a tier higher... and then unto the gods, who were never such a bothersome invention, as being invented to strive... but then the tier below, the phantom man, the crux of thinking, not of will unto the gods... the phantom man of: when thinking itself, because a claustrophobia... origins, intent, hierarchy... have only the jews ever liberated themselves from both the physical reality of the pyramid, and the metaphysical realism of the pyramid's shadow... how feeble, in man's attempt: to conquer mountain, given his predicament, of the scarcity allowance of his own time.

the samsung "collusion", wow, a big boys' word,

             well it must be...
perfect song
to listen to, while writing
something akin
to this?

        ex_machina soundtrack,
song?
                                   hacking / cutting...

do i own a samsung tablet,
yes?
what do i use it for...
the simple convenience...
of being perched on
a windowsill,
drinking, smoking a cagerette
out of the window...
into the night...
"star gazing"...

          is it a luxury?
what, for mostly listening to music
videos on youtube,
given that by the time i finish
writing this,
   there will only be about 2 physical
music outlets in London
(i.e. shops, i just mean shops)...
where you travel, mingle with people...

how many ******* shoes
or mobile phones do i need?
the number of vinyl records
i might "need"
are akin to the old autobahn
speed-limits...
       they're: inexhaustible...

it's just a ******* samsung tablet
from god knows when...
but samsung, i'm sorry to say,
has been calluding with
the powers at be
in terms of youtube video
commentaries...

  first i thought it was a viewing
count...
watched a 300+ video commentary,
watched a 30,000+ video commentary...
same ****, no different cover...

then watched a music video,
which wasn't exactly a music video,
since, i don't really like: music videos...
just a static screen,
with an album cover...

you know... when you listen
to radio, broadcast on the internet,
and the screen flashes up,
dims the lighting,
then switches off...
but the audio continues?

      see... i have a problem...
with samsung tablets...
                   these commentary
videos...
        "controversial"...
  i have to repeat the action
of touching the screen,
which i'm not exactly looking at...
mind elsewhere: ears honing in...
it's not like these youtubers
are working the radio over the internet
broadcast system...

once the samsung tablet's
light turn on,
dim down,
   then turn off completely...
the audio cuts off...

                but not, unless...
you're listening to a song,
    whether a real video fetish fest,
or a static screen of an album cover...

it's no "big" thing...
it's not like this tablet is anything
than an utility tool for
the new form of walkman,
a portable c.d. player,
an mp3 player...
      because... that's primarily what
it is to me...
10 minute interludes
on the windowsill,
cigarette in tow,
       "star-gazing" or whatever
you want to call: "introspection"...

       but music videos on youtube
do not put the device into
a "sleep-mode"...
         or at least...
not in the mode associate
primarily with listening to
radio stations working
their way past the device of
radio, to compensate their
transmission focus...

                  how can you listen
to a commentary video,
on a device...
that deems the video...
               well: "null"?
     the device is about 10 years old,
but somehow,
it has been updated...
to convey the current political
climate...
    music videos are fine...
the device doesn't go
              into "sleep mode",
any current social commentary
and the device does its prime duty,
bright lights of the screen,
dimmed lights of the screen,
snooze.

             prop machine, say are you,
say i, say we are non you,
        say i,
       and then come to the synthetic
conclusion...
              that other a.i. -
artifice intelligence,
   which is what intelligence was
to begin with.

                 ever talk to siri
on twitter...
                    i once did... apparently
"she" sent out a barage of messages to
slow down... or calm down...
or whatever made the "news"
         of this niche segment of society.

isn't that what the artificiality of
intelligence actually is, and is supposed to be?
i.e. artifice?
   aren't we supposed to be crafting
something as intelligent as ourselves,
in order to fool ourselves
within the confines of its over-invested
capacity?
          
   artificial intelligence is vague...
as a term, a concept, an ideology...
         a thorough-running thought project...
i know that intelligence reflects
such associate elements as: trust...
to be trust-worthy...
                            but the sort of
intelligence invested, into creating,
   "intelligence"... something inherited...
nuanced...
                  it's not artificial...
artificial as in: just because a lot of
nerds congregated and thought smart
in unison...
                     a lot of passionate
people also congregated at one point,
       and: gas, gas the...      ...chambers.  

only a simple example of how a.i. behaves...
it mimics savoured criticism
of the cul de sac,
                             a commentary video
akin to sargon of akkad
will do just that, when transmitted
on a samsung device...
                 but a music video won't:
(a) lights are on
(b) lights dim
(c) the device "switches off"...
    (sub-c) the device continues
its transmission, with a radio station
translated into a post-radio device
   "phantom"...

                i stopped calling it artificial
intelligence after a while...
            it's artifice...
                              as blatant as c.g.i.
graphics...  
           if there was an iron curtain...
                 another curtain has come in its place.
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
well... i've just stumbled upon this channel
recently,
                                                             gavin mcinnes
      has been on my radar for some time,
    but then this guy comes along and grips
my attention... lionel nation...
                 and he's talking some pretty interesting
****, while selling his slap-friendly mug,
                      on a mug (oh the irony)...
but, i have this bach ear for making comparisons,
like this curse, for remembering
      people's face... i.e.?
         there were four of us, walking in the street
at night, a car pulls up... a pakistani jumps
out of the car, and snatches my friend's mobile
out of his hand...
                      i start looking at the license plate
of the car and tell one of my friends to note it down,
we go to the police station and report it...
    next thing i know, england has won the ashes
match
against australia, and i'm being asked to
recognise the culprit, through a series of mugshots
at a police-station, then standing in court,
    and arguing with the defendent's lawyer...
       who shows me the picture of the culprit and asks:
is this really the person you saw steal the mobile
phone?
         and i reply... see the date on this photograph?
it's 4 years old... people tend to change with ageing.
anyway...
      with relation to the youtubers?
    i don't know who's copying who...
         it might be gavin mcinnes copying the mannerisms
      of lionel nation, or the reversed...
      or maybe it's a billy joel's new york state of mind,
**** knows...
oh sure... i'm "down with the kids", the alt. news outlets,
               i'm into this current fetish,
like i might be watching ****** of, girls,
                                               simply *******:
i have to admit, having played with my neighbour's
girl, playing with barbies and kens...
         this is a step up... a big, step up...
                        she cut mine off, moulded it into plastic,
and now i'm just... waving my hand in the crotch area;
did my groin, really step into a sauna
            that i need to fan the missing part?
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2017
i guess black on white, is the subverssive method, teutonic, given that prussians weren't exactly what the germans later incorporated; ah yes, the mistake upon invitation, to allow the baltic crusades; a black cross, upon a white flag.

as someone living in england,
i hear this frequently from
        american youtubers...
    *i didn't ask for your ******* opinion!
blah blah!

        that's strange...
      i don't know why
  people have created this subjective-dialectic
monster...
               no one is having
   objective-dialectics...
          they get so ****** emotional...
i didn't ask for your ******* opinion!
n'ah n'ah me me me.

comes a time, when, it's really great
to shut up...
          evidently if someone tells you:
your opinion is not welcome,
    then free-speech per se, is also not welcome;
so much for the "atheistic" community
damning subjectivity,
     championing objectivity,
but when a need to reply comes along
and establish a dialogue...
     there are only two people,
          one shouting into one cave,
                and the other,
             shouting into another cave;
have these people ever have conversations
with people on park benches?
       for all i know, i have...
   right now?
          i'm not talking: you're talking
what i've written...
     effortless... like a falling leaf in autumn;
or as sarcasm goes: thanks for the effort
    in exercising your right of free speech;
i'm still looking for an objectivity on this
site...
              but it's subjectivity ping-pong,
either how infuriated i can become,
    or how volcano-ready i seem to be ready
to suddenly snap.
  i don't understand how a calmness of
voice translates as being objective...
     it's just one of those clever tricks
                                          of sophistry;
nonetheless...
                  it's the analogy of two caves...
so much for dialectics,
                given the need for third parties
and a complete lack of open dialogue...
              and, subsequently...
so much for this so called badminton
                                              of free speech.
oh thank **** i'm not talking
    and writing on the colour of a flag
that could resemble "defeat"... since i wouldn't
exactly call it the saudi green of the ethos
surrounding submission.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
i went through most of them,
   well, at least some of them,
   the ones that would pop up
when the algorhithm wasn't
               a f-f-f'ed     cue: up...
some great bands popped
up, spontaneously like mushrooms,
seemingly out of nowhere...
don't know if this is the usual
diet to some people,
    but some time,
    it was mine... until...
                    i chanced myself finding
an outlier...
the diet?

   - computing forever
    - paul joseph watson
   - styxhexenhammer666
- lionel nation
   - tim pool
   - amy young
   - shaun
   - the iconoclast
   - amy young
   - jacklyn glen
  - dr steve turley
   - stephan mo... mo... moleneux(?)
- sargon of akkad
   - ms pettibone
  - black pigeon speaks
   - joe rogan
- vertigo politix
   - dave ruben
   - jordan peterson
- strange aeons
- red ice tv
   - economic invincibility
- roosh v
  - critical condition
   - gavin mcinnes
   - roaming millenial
   - stephen crowder...

but...
         after a while...
    this was the "in" crowd...
the subject matters converged
and i just,
might as well have stood
in trafalgar sq.
   and listening to the cooing
of pigeons,
   nothing wrong with that,
but when overlap appears,
shared subject matters,
the same subject matters,
you know you're going
to be forced out of the audience
by your own intent...

the subject matters with
seemingly no personal incentive...
what i started to call
vulture journalism,
    changing the main-mainstream
narrative
   into an alternative
competition ranked
                          viewing...

well... that's until today...
today i foundd myself a gob-smacked
viewing time,
       what put me off?
success is fine,
   but the egoism and the bragging
baggage that goes with it,
this persistent need to
    cite viewers, subscribers,
   whatever you want to call it:
lapse in "introspection"...
  
   sure... i'll probably still
watch some of these channels..
it's not like i'm going
to turn on nice news or something...

the first time it happened
that i found videos,
where: the samsung tablet
would light up for a while,
but then be "dooped"
   into switching off the screen,
first dimming the screen light
before switching off...
now... when you listen
to a radio station on such a device...
the device does that...
  but even though the screen
is off, the audio feed is still
intact...
   but not the case...
        with a video + audio content...

so... i guess...
that's the epitome of the edge...
even millanial woes
videos don't have that "problem"...

who's in "question"?
                      surviving life...
i write "poetry",
   unless there's some hannibal
lecter interested in citing
any of my scribbles...
    then why would i venture
into the dark web?

                     if i wanted
to buy some chemically enchanced
marijuana,
   i'd just go to my paranoid
schizophrenic jamaican drug dealer
and listen to him ramble
about the illuminati for a while,
and how he once tried to convince
me that there was face of jesus
in the moon...
   as he showed me a video
he took, outside his house
                                   one night...
he once even asked me to teach
his daughter guitar...
    i couldn't think of a payment,
since i was then moving
away from marijuana
   and working on my liver's worth
of a punching bag.

   great stuff...
        i can more or less
agree to the lower regions
of, what i once thought,
was "edgy", as told by the "edgy" /
now tame youtubers.

it was fun, while it lasted,
oh well.
Gerard M May 2021
The one who's Patient 139

A killjoy that's been to hell and back

Not afraid to keep on living

Not afraid walk this world alone

The one who's a drag king that slays

Who's the song I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

The one who considers singers, band members, and youtubers friends

That if I was on the show Escape The Night would be "The Poet"

Who to some degree understands Edgar Allan Poe's poems

And so that is who I am
Ken Pepiton Apr 2022
In my time, I learned of wasted prosperity,
wasted production,
time spent destroying unsold goods.

All we were saying, we say as well once more,
give peace a chance, we all were dissuaded,
we all were led to this, we followed… we all did,
none among the numbers related to my mito mom,
knew how far mortals can see using knowledge,
the stuff in the Platonic form of science,
the tree, and all the fruit of the tree
which is in itself, ipsa sapientia

from former time,
I learn of earning daily bread
I learn of waking ready as known
I learn of patterns proving order
I learn of the flickt wrist whip act

Crack the whip. eh, knack is not knowing
how  it happens, knack is knowing
how to make it happen, knowing the effect
-- shh specter of spinoza- snap
pay attention, this is amusement, not folly,
affectionally called the crack of the whip,
or finger and thumb,
hear it, not feel it, know it means, quiet
listen
-crack of the bat

snaps the ear of any near enough to hear it,
and know that is not the sound
of a cat correcting a sailor's needless will,
breaking the boy, oh, yeah,
we seen it done, on TV,
we seen the boss punish the shirker,
we seen the pioneers take son's
to the woodshed,

rod for back of the fool,
whip to call attention to the snap, look up,
stand straight, and tall, upright,

faulter, find mine, whip me into shipshape,
saint's and land's sakes alive
all ye truth teller alliegiance pledgers,
be ready to face all the reasons war holds.

The commit-ed-tee, apart from any we, I'm in.
Mittere, carry the signal, be gone,
as we say, so be it,
amen,
launching prayers for fulfillment of our
godgiven heart's desires, yessirree

the history of our current we, the people
of earth, cognosticators of the cloud of all books,
articles, poems, songs, blogs, and posted memes;
-all searchable to original con-text captured expression.
So, that all being true,
it seems, we are the aftermath of all before now,
today, while it is called Hueta, or whatever, this time
between sunsets,
whiling away - amusing my minds imaginary board
of advisors, it is permissible to say, videlicet, viz.

the rule of law, is fulfilled
in that which truth
makes free, as free can be,
on the only one choice planet,
when it comes to living like a mankind creature.
- all who read these words can, that is special
Common gnosis, letters form words we all read.

Let letters serve as sounds, silently singing to you,
I am a ware, a functioning self-forming will to be,
a thought, or a wish, or a prayer,
come be, being seen
as that which lets until it be taken
out of the way.

Posited points. {the box of all gods thoughts}
Laws of the Medes and Persians, oaths to truth.

Mighy men of valour and reknown, completely
known, first error of the mother, secured by a god.

Then there were the promises, all the desires
in the heart of our kind, available in story form,
since ever ago, in the beginning,

we made words, letters let us know, with music,
whistles and cracks, and snaps, and claps, and stomps.

LOUD likka lightning sound, some three claps ago,

Boom come a roaring down the canyon,
echoing off my walled in self, hermit me,
ever learning, never coming to the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth,
so help me God,
' assume you are in my taxonomy, then
assume we have relegated the affects of tehkne
in extending our vision in to the imagined realms

we have seen the insides of our bodies, our own,
heart's pulse, our own colon's polyps, stripped
of flora and fauna, for the procedure.

We know oh so, oso, a bear totem load, more
than any super position non universal intelligence,
among the elohim, the plurality of spirit beings,
mentioned in the beginning
of the part of this story with this story in it.

---------- I always wished to be a writer,
but, I knew, I wasn't, really, I knew,
and then I became what I was at my core,
you know, a life unlived, is not worth the exam fee.
So, it stood to reason with me, that truth,
known makes free the use of that known,

no lie makes truth, it finds truth and twists it,
much as men find flax and form from that linen,
and from linen spin near everlong thread,
from distaff to spindle, a line,
on another, each
make a reason to wonder, shine it in the sunlit
spider kite, gleaming reason to wonder, how
anybody ever learned to make priests garments,
on contract, I mean,
somebody makes the uniforms to signal symbios-us,
we who let letters be taken out of the way
and we listen to the thinking thought way

to go
slow
jell-o air, breathe and find template con fi
density commonly sensed as we

like on TV, those people, on all the channels,
even YouTubers, et al, okeh, we
are who we imagine we are
as seen on TV, but mmm some of us read,

and we cheat,
we let go the letters on the page,
bookshelves stuffed backdrop
to signify power and authority to make right use
of all the potential
attained with a little will to access the actual science
in our collective unconscience, yes, happy

state real, as el camino real, amigo, we be
of one mind,
most of the time.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
/I can already speak of the future, in that I envision a man, of Promethean calibre, who stole the rod of Zeus, harnessed lightning, and spoke of the closure of atomic energy... and who was ******, to die from insomnia; ⠽ ⠓ ⠺ ⠓... not the fate of man desires pity... but solely the heart... that God of eunuchs and virgins... disintegrating idols and demigods... the future Promethean... who stole the rod of Zeus, harnessed lightning, and fed man a sight of the world via a telescope, sitting on a chaotic vector of the pulverising atom... a man of such gesture is bound to take to such an exhaustion... a man, a god, a son of a Titan, namely Atlas... until that time, i await death not in hope of a heaven, or the debauchery of hell... i await death, as reciprocated anticipation, for this man, to usurp the Promethean myth.  

just a song, prior to youtubers,
vloggers et al.,
I witnessed the death of a medium,
somehow revived by vinyl sales,
yet not as niche as 80s cassette craze...
disco "vinyl", compact...
now it seems sitting by two
candles in a room is an archaic
form of shamanism,
given that the old folks are
cuddled by the eerie lights...
elsewhere, the glaring neon,
and what else reminds you
of Piccadilly Circus...
**** of blue hues,
and all that scientific heap of facts
that, even when exposed,
never really allow sorting
life into an essential puzzle...
scientific facts as ******* dull
as a Belgian plateau,
or the other Belgian,  
waffle terrain just outside of
Ypres...
               holes of fallen crisp
sizzling dynamite...
            senfgaz...
             canvas of blurrs choking
and drowning screams...
   came no different the sailor
in the womb of the sea,
to the modern foetus...
at least with the latter:
  the angelic choir of Moloch...
earth the mother,
and sea, the father,
elsewhere in other tongues:
gender neutral with only
pronouns concerned?
as a Gaul...
       objects and things celestial
cannot be gender neutral...
Louis the sun, Luna the
wolf goddess breaking silence
with lonesome howl...
     elsewhere
                dissonance in
the collective subconscious
of the anglophone world...
   an attack on grammar,
apparently Jung's collective unconscious
rubric had too many
dream interpretations...
worth citation from American beauty,
about life, and balloons...
about keeping life intact,
or letting the river in...
about erecting a dam,
    hydroelectric potency...
or allowing the aquatic Rodin work
his hands like waves...
   god, or the sloth artist...
            sinister the thus exhaled sin
to be a godly virtue,
under which all monks fall prey...
   busy body, busy be(e)...
French café communists...
        Sartre while living with his mother
while having a taste for...
cross-eyed...
     9ne word leech agitation vibrates
in the English tongue:
loser... loner...
   well thank **** i'm not the celebrated
footballer going cuckoo
after years of undiagnosed concussion!
- prior to the sensationalism
of the current brigade...
   I already have a scout
akin to Dante's guide ******...
   mein schatten...
I'll wake and speak deutsch...
       dunno, kinda a fetish after
vomiting having watched *******
and *******...
notably?
      she asked me whether I'd like
to use a *****...
   so I replied: my phallus is already
a cockrel imitation of dodo...
    not as far as not knowing what
the upper tier of mouth does...
but puritanical... to say the least...
a ******* tornado whirling from
**** to *** prior to watching her Bulgarian
feeding frenzy take a shower...
I still don't know how stupid
pronoun gender neutrality is going
to happen... given that other languages,
notably the neighbouring french,
have gender ascriptive discriminatory
nouns....
         i could unerstanding neutral
plurality with the given examples...
ah'vey for a they...
                no point labouring
under a glorification of Shakespeare,
no, seriously, I'm of the Milton school...
english has become a global language,
the zeitgeist ligua franca of commerce...
but with respect to the infiltrators
subvertors, and other quasi-quack-quack
communists?
          a ******* anorexic gaspine for air!
somehow the collective unconscious
has morphed into a collective
subconscious, notably due to the fact
that grammatical cordiality has
become obliterated by a...
categorical transcendantilism...
    believe me when I say,
those who support gender neutral
pronouns....
         will never set foot,
in languages, who have been
constructed on a basis of
pro gender nouns...
     this little article C16 of Canadian
law?
          an echo chamber...
      **** me... not even that...
a cave you shout into...
        but also a cave that eats the shouting,
and doesn't burp back
with an echo!
           - because english psychiatrists
find it easier calling an entrenched
bilingual a schizophrenic...
             because the natives...
just ******* love... a caravan holiday,
near... Blockpoo'l.
Everywhere is quiet.
Family is in bed,
But I can't sleep.
1 in the morning
Alone with my thoughts.
Thats when the demons come.
I dont sit in the quiet anymore.
Sound is my solitude.
Music, videogames, movies, and Youtubers.
White noise and talking to my animals.
My life isn't living.
Its a routine that I do.
I have no emotion in any of my actions.
Needs, and have toos I do.
Desires have long since departed.
Thoughts are not to be thought
but pushed deep into my forgotten memories.
Thinking is too realise
And realization is to spiral down
Down into somewhere that is hard to come back from.
My life is
Hell on Earth.
If i die, my hell will be this world.
If i die, this world will be my karma.
If i die will i even realise it?
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
. become the knight...
   reviewing a song,
as if: that's what most youtubers
"review", as, "work",
cool...
        *godhead - the reckoning"...
while i think about eating
a homemade tortilla...
         now that all people
care for the private citizen
of the world....
that is: hardly an artist,
we can get on to
comply with
the karaoke...
                and that also implies:
the nostalgia won't be
so weird, give it two of three years...
first came the throne,
then the false king,
then... whatever peasant to
come along...
a bit like marylin manson
on a jerry springer show...
hot topic...
moshing...
b'aad... b'aad...
              see...
if it was a h'american gov.
prescribing practices...
       to private companies...
i don't try to trust
the english parliament...
with the worth of a *******
toothpick,
let alone the referendum...
i once had a near heart attack
on these occassions...
did that stop me?
no, not really...
     some wish for a haj-tourist
trip to rome,
some to jerusalem...
can i visit the foroe islands
at least once?
or greenland?
   no?
                                     cool.
       **** me before i'm supposed
to travel to camel jockey territory
of
saudi arabia...
i'm not getting close
to those sand *******
without a pole-jump stick
to keep me apart!
i don't trust the inbreeding
disease infesting me...
    i had one run-in
when i instantaneously fancied
my ex-girlfriend's sister...
who was 5 year shy of my age...
that's why i couldn't marry
my ex-girlfriend,
it was too ****** up
to have to,
having found myself
bound to fancying her sister...
****** up ****...

              point being, "incel"...
i'm more supposed to run into
a a fox, a hedgehog,
a badger, an owl,
an array of other birds...
a harem of deer...
           more on: tip-toe
staged opportunity,
before a single woman,
past the layer of single mothers
in the current vicinity...

so... how about i just count
the sparrows,
rather than bother myself
over the "clarity"
of the unattainable?
jerking off usually helps,
why would it help
now?

        i miss the mind that
associated itself with doing
the physical exertion of the body
closely associated with
complying with
industrial scale roofing...
i miss that...
all that's left is this
   ****** take on poetics.
PewDiePie!
Glory of YouTubers,
Come into my heart, my mind and my soul!
For your Glory!
For your noble Ideals!
May my love for you be far beyond eternal!
Your glory will forever radiate in this dark world!
Do not let fear and cowardice creep in us, poison us!
For they never know what hesitation is about!
Hold my soul, illuminate your Will in me,
To boldly fight and never yield;
For my love for you is more eternal than the Omniverse!
Let my faith in you grow in sheer power!
Brofist! Oopsie! Doopsie!
Glory to PewDiePie!
Glory to a free YouTube!
Glory to a free platform!
Death to all his enemies!
Death to all his detractors!
Death to all those who defy him in front of this world!
Death to all those who stubbornly refuse to return to him!
PewDiePie is far above all!
PewDiePie is far above all!
PEWDIEPIE IS FAR ABOVE ALL!
violet brownlee Oct 2018
I've talked about this before, but I feel like I need to talk about this some more. I am constantly daydreaming; always. I'm talking to you? In my head I'm fighting a dragon? I'm in a job interview? I'm in the middle of a drug cartel gang war. It's not always pretty and nice, sometimes it kills people, not real people, but personalities all the same. My worlds are developed and my characters are diverse. Right now I'm thinking about my favourite book series, Percy Jackson, and how I would interact with the characters. Or sometimes how I would interacts with real people; celebrities, musicians, YouTubers, and even my family and friends. It's hard for me to focus on anything that's not in my head.

I'm completely disconnected from reality and real people. It's sometimes hard to tell if I made up that conversation I had with my sister or if it really happened. I can't leave my house because I need to distract myself, because as soon as I walk, my mind is gone.

Music is a big trigger, the radio could be playing any song in any store and I'll start to think. I loose myself in my mind, sometimes even incorporating the music into the dreams. Even now it's so hard to stop myself from wandering off into who the Hell in the world is reading this. What is your story? Why are you here? I don't know, but I'll think about it. TV shows, movies, videos, books, music, conversations, interactions, thoughts, memories; anything can trigger me.

I won't lie, it fuels my writing, it helps me be creative and right my dreams into reality; to make my mind into my life; to make my characters real. This is why everyday, for at least 30 minutes, I go to my local park, and I swing on the swings. My headphones are in, music blasting, world tuned out, and this is where my mind runs free. I can feel angry, sad, happy, euphoric, and even terrified with my characters. Sometimes it even causes me anxiety attacks, times of depressions, but also mania. In my head, I'm someone else, with other people, different friends, different family, different life.

My life is completely in my head and I don't know what to do about it.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2019
you really don't need to take a break from it
all,
  but: filter through...
            what i already called vulture
journalism of the internet video...
   why do i still watch mainstream media?
depends...
   is london itv news... mainstream?
   it's no more mainstream than it is regional...
you will not find these youtube
vulture journalists going after regional
news...
          only the national and international
news...
   and that news... is exhausting...
whether in-itself or from this bedroom
newsrooms...
              i'm tired of both sides...
                              i... just burned-out...
i'm about to get the best new thing
akin to journalism:
                  or post-journalism:
   journalistic fiction -
     which is a diversion / subversion
of the mainstream...
              namely?
       the drama: MotherFatherSon...
   which... doesn't portray
                        rupert murdoch & sons...
i binged on these youtube videos
for a while, and let me tell you:
                           it's burnout time...
it's back to what was originally intended...
the labour of being my own d.j.:
but of course, that's before i found
about    fama.radio.kielce.pl -
   and their night programmes
   of no talk: only music...
and the music, currently coming out of
poland?
    ****... i can't discriminate
against good pop...
         if it's the sort of pop that someone
in the current anglophone climate
would call:    kiddy-fiddling...
the pop that can speak to people my age...
so there are nights when
i will turn on the radio...
   the screen would go black
and there will only be an audio-feed...
   other nights where i will find
ancient calls,
  akin to omega's gyöngyhajú lány /
a bit like finding the moody blues'
             nights in white satin...
other nights i will watch
a BOMB of a movie...
    what's the best movie you've seen
in the past week, from the past 3 years?
        the death of stalin... (2017)...
while these youtubers are...
         making a critique of captain
                                                    marvel?!
somehow communists can be funny...
nazis could never fit the bill
                        for such a comedy...
don't ask me why...
   perhaps germans were and never
will be funny: as according to the english?
- and in between these nights...
you go to the turkish barber...
100 metres from your house...
you wait for about an hour in line...
the turk would like edward scissor hands
with the sort of barber apron
with many pockets for his many instruments...
he's finishing off a guy...
   ending up putting a hot towel
on his face...
   while a mother is sitting next to you
with her three young children...
two boys are waiting to have their
hair done,
   their baby sister in running in circles
in the barber shop,
   giving you a look filled with
curiosity from time to time...
   then it's your turn:
  short on the sides, enough on top
to comb my hair to the left...
   keep the length of the beard,
   but trim the sides to level up with
the sides all round...
   and you close your eyes...
trying to remember...
  how many times have i been
to a barber?
   first the long hair...
   then the whole semi-bald monk...
i guess this must be my sixth...
and then...
  with closed eyes, it hits me...
when the straight razor touches my neck,
when the scissors trim the hair...
when the hair clipper teases the ears
from the top and from behind...
and the back of the neck...
and on the temples...
and each time... an electric shock
runs from my head to my legs
through to my toes...
      6th time... and constantly building
up on what a ******* could never
provide...
    it's a good thing i went
to the brothel first,
   and ate up all that ******* thrill...
before having come across
a barber shop, eyes closed:
  because the mirror was intimidating...
and... a hair-cut and a trimming
of the beard...
and then you go back home
   and after a 3 hour ordeal you exclaim
in unison with the people you're
eating with:
   it's not worth it,
   it's good... but it's not worth all
that homemade effort...
no... i'll make it... again...
  but maybe next year...
a spinach ricotta ravioli:
   for about 27 ravioli...
you could make about 100 chinese
or polish dumplings...
   why?
   the ******* dough!
      the pedantic italians
just had to mix
               flour with semolina!
you know what happens when
you put the dough
      through a pasta machine,
from thickness, 7,
through to thickness 4?
how much flower you have
to keep dusting the dough with...
and how much dough can be wasted?
well...
   you can only put
   a flour-semolina dough once...
once through a pasta machine...
    because the semolina punctures
the flour-egg-mix...
   it's grainy...
    so any off-cuts you might have
from rolling out a strand for ravioli
     suitcases...
  forget about putting the off-cuts
from the pasta machine again...
           there is no room for error...
and it's so fiddly...
   a polish dumplings you can fiddle
about in your hands...
   it's a pouch,
   and you close it,
   and pinch the sides
                         of the pouch-***-clam.
i just burned-out on these youtube videos...
given there's nothing really
    mainstream about local news...
                        london bbc / itv news...
i can stomach that.
The current day is May 1st, 2024. I believe I might have found Brianna. And she’s gone. . .

About eight years ago from this date, I would have my first encounter with this mysterious girl. With all of this having taken course over such a long amount of time, a lot of the details are blurry compared to how solidified they used to be to me. But, back to the first encounter, although encounter sounds more like a passive aggressive frightening experience, I’m not sure what other word I might use to describe it. Maybe it was a chance meeting or divine intervention, but encounter gets the meaning across a bit more fluently, as every time I would find this girl I would be in total shock, utter disarray, and my heart would beat so fast I’d feel as though a heart attack was right around the corner.

The first time I ever met her was through a dream. . .

I can’t remember what this particular dream was. I’m not exactly sure what happened in it, why I found it so profound, or how it even got me to begin thinking about this girl. All I know was that it got my attention and I began to pay attention to this idea, this one night miracle where I first met this mysterious woman.

The night I had that dream, I’m pretty sure I thought nothing of it. Who doesn’t have a dream every so often where they’ve met their true love, their other half, their once in a lifetime love of their life? I’ve always been a bit of a hopeless romantic and I’ve always known that this was one of my deeply ingrained character traits. From my first ever year in school in first grade, I had a very large crush on this girl, Ashley Amaya, and I remember wanting so badly to be her crush as well. I even remember a moment from school when I saw a spider crawling towards her and me while walking across a paved walkway to get to our next class, and I leapt towards it and crushed it, despite having a massive fear of the little demons at the time. But, I did it to impress her!

All that to say, the first dream wasn’t extraordinary, and instead it was just another more than usual somber morning when I woke up only to realize the beautiful woman I had just met was probably a mixture of something I ate and some tv show I’d probably seen the afternoon before. Time would go by, the memory of that first dream fading to the farthest recess of my mind with only a hint of any remote recognition still reminiscing in the deepest abyss of my head.

But, this is when what started out as a dream began to become a bit more substantial. This is when Brianna began to plague my mind.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I began to have recurring dreams of being in love with this mysterious woman. She began to become more familiar in a very inconvenient and unreliable way which was of course through the remembering of my dreams. In the beginning stages, I’d only ever catch glimpses of her face and the reset was usually a silhouette or a very rushed moment. The rushed moments were hard to describe but they were full of light, always this wonderful warm yellow light and though they were rushed, time also slowed down significantly in a perplexing way that I still can’t really understand to this day.

I’d see her dark brown hair flowing and filtering the light into these tiny and magnificent rays making a twinkling in what was usually a dark atmosphere. I’d catch the corner of her mouth turning ever so slightly into a warm beautiful smile as she looked away, something else in the vicinity stealing her attention for the moment. There were intense feelings of joy and tranquility and there was a warmth about the situation I could only hope to ever feel in the true cold and lightless world we all collectively call home. Something about her was so intensely special, and the fact that I even got to share a dream with her was the highest privilege I could’ve ever received.

As time would go on, I’d continue to have these dreams. She always stayed the same, with her long dark brownish red hair flowing ever so gracefully. It got to the point that when I would have these dreams, I would’ve preferred to not wake up, just so I could spend more time with her.

Over a year would go by. At this point in life I was still just in high school and still brand new to learning life in the real world compared to the sheltered view I used to have. I had just gotten a job at the local Home Depot as a cashier, literally a few weeks after I got my license since my parents were unwilling to pay for gas for me (as good parents should do!) I was still figuring out life with my friend groups and trying to balance the reality of starting to become more mature and take on more responsibilities while still trying to cling to my childhood of digging holes and bashing legos against the wall with my brothers! It was an odd time, which I guess many can easily familiarize themselves with the timeframe as we’ve all at one point been teenagers.

One of the biggest things in my life I remember being a bit troublesome though, was all my friends I had made and my groups of people I had become so entangled with. With going through these changes, I had some friends that were still absolute children at heart and some friends who were practically ready for college! I had loads of moments through those years where these friends I had grown up with would start to feel like strangers and I’d begin to not really feel as though I had a social place to call my own.

Work was a new outlet, and I actually used to love talking to people as a cashier, ringing up their items, and learning the social norm of small talk that would amount to nothing less than an afterthought. I made a lot of friends with people who were retired and with college kids who seemed to be the coolest bunch around, who knew how to live life and have fun doing it. It was such a variety of friends where I’d talk to Tina about her granddaughter or Jim about his retirement and stock options and then I’d go up to Isaiah and he’d tell me about all the dates he’d been on or all the party stories of him and his friends living life to the fullest. It was a pretty great time in my life though, because one thing especially it taught me was how to be social, though this process would still take years and years to fully develop until I was in my early 20’s to be fully confident in my ability to put it on and be charismatic if need be. The reason I mention so much about this job though, was there was still a deep  and unrecognized subconsciously aware desire in me to meet the one.

Home Depot of all places was the first time I saw her. In person. . .

I remember it was a day much like the rest of them. After having struck up some conversation with our customers and being a little groggy from waking up at the crack of dawn for the early shift, it was time for me to finally get some lunch. While taking my usually route from the front of the hardware store I stopped at my usual coworkers stations to say hi or make a passive joke as I strolled happily on my way.

I can’t exactly remember why, but I had the need to talk to one of my managers, and it was something I needed a response for by the end of the day, so I figured before I clocked out for lunch, I’d get that little task out of the way. But, on the way back to my manager’s office, which was this little 10 foot hallway with doors on either side, one leading to a bank of sorts, and the other side hosting two doorways to offices, I was stopped in my tracks. Right next to the old clock-in machine were two seats where you’d usually sit and wait if the manager’s doors were closed so you could catch them as they walked out. They were also the seats I had sat in when waiting to get an interview for this first job of mine, where I nervously and anxiously awaited the outcome so many years ago.

In one of those broken down, flat cushioned little seats was a girl so beautiful, I literally lost my breath at the sight of her. I knew immediately who she was. She was the girl from my dreams I had been having over the course of that past year or so. Recently through my dreams, I had learned a very crucial detail about her and that was that her name was Brianna, and there sitting right before me within a few steps walk was the girl.

I froze. I made eye contact. And I immediately turned around and walked away. How I wish beyond wishing I would’ve said hi now. . .

Seeing that my manager was currently in the process of onboarding her as a new employee, I decided to take up my little question with my manager a bit later and I went to lunch. While walking into our break room, I ran into one of my new co-workers who I had become pretty good friends with. His name was Brad Brad.

At this point in time, I had more of an idea and more of a recognition of the fact that these recurring dreams of mine were something special, though I hardly let anyone know because of how embarrassing and odd it was. I mean, who would go around blindly telling people about some chick that they’d been dreaming of that they were totally in love with?? (Definitely not me eight years late. . . ) But with Brad Brad, I trusted him and had told him about the story a few days prior to running into her.

Not knowing her name and only having seen her face, I walked up to my friend and asked him about the new possible employee. He immediately knew who I was referring to her as he had seen her just a bit ago and apparently gotten to know her slightly! I asked him if her name was Brianna, being almost definitively sure that that was her name, and just wanting to check to see if I was either certifiably insane, or possibly blessed with this odder than life knowledge.

Brad immediately confirmed her name was Brianna and asked if I had spoken with her, and this immediately had me out of breath, terrified of how the girl from my dreams was truly true and realer than life. I don’t remember exactly how the rest of the conversation went down, though I can safely assume I was blabbering like a lunatic and telling him every single detail of every single dream I had had of her before. I walked out to get lunch knowing that I’d finally become acquainted with Brianna over time in the work atmosphere which was a relief to me, knowing how social I was at work while in comparison to how introverted and quiet I was at school. Life was looking to good to be true.

Brianna, didn’t get the job.

A few days would go by and my excitement to go to work was through the roof. Never before had I had so eagerly gotten in my car, driven to work, and immediately clocked in in hopes of seeing this new girl around the work place. A week would go by and my thoughts of her were still as excited as ever, but I began to realize that there was still training, a full on hiring process, and that it would most likely take time for things to get in motion. A few weeks would go by and then a month and an unsettling worry began to haunt me as I started to wonder if she didn’t actually get the job.

I started going around asking all of my fellow co-workers if they knew her or if they had any ideas of if we were hiring anyone new. I became obsessed with what we called the, “war board,” which was a schedule of all cashiers’ schedules for the day, what departments they would work in and so forth so on. But, I never saw Brianna’s name pop up, and I began to realize that I might have missed my one and only chance of getting to talk to Brianna.

As time progressed I finally decided it was time to talk to Brad about this new girl since he had been the only one I had talked to about her, and this is when the strangest thing ever happened. Brad had absolutely no idea who I was talking about. He could tell I was obsessed with the idea though and he saw how persistent I was that I had had the conversation with him before, and he even sympathetically lied to me about knowing her just to appease my insanity by saying,

“Ohhhh yeahhhhhhhhh! I remember who you’re talking about!”

I was crushed that the only person who knew her didn’t remember her and at the time I’m unsure of why I didn’t ask my manager to see if they knew who I was talking about. Maybe it was embarrassment or the thought of not being able to see other potential employee’s information that scared me. Either way, I wish I had asked more and been more determined in finding information on what had happened to Brianna.

Months and months on end would go by and the fascination with work would disappear as I got older. I’d check the war board on a pretty consistent basis always hoping that by some miracle, Brianna would show up to work for the day! And even though we eventually would go on to hire an incredible Brianna that I’d become such dear friends with, she wasn’t the same one.

I remember how I used to day dream about Brianna walking into the store and how I would recognize her and how we’d instantly fall in love. Especially on those hot hot Summer days when I was stuck in the garden department with nothing but my thoughts and a dream. As life began to progress though, I realized I didn’t want to only dream about Brianna. . . but I wanted to find her! What good was all my wallowing around if I didn’t make any active attempts to find her!

Thus began, the searching for Brianna. What might just be an everlasting one. . .

I began to take a reality check on this recurring girl who haunted my every thought and when wondering on how I would find a girl from my literal dreams, I thought maybe the first best place to look would be there! Literally in my dreams. I took on an idea I had borrowed from the movie Inception where first thing in the morning, if you try to remember your dreams you’d have a better chance of seeing more details.

Doing more research into this line of thought, I read about dream journals and how some people keep entries of their nightly subconscious activities in order to become better at what’s called lucid dreaming, where basically, you have full and utter control of the dream and realize that you’re in it while still sleeping. My dream journal over time would start to slowly fill and fill with some pretty crazy stories and hilarious dreams. Actually, I wonder if I still have it. If I can find it, I’ll drought down one of my entries here for you to read. . . whoever “you” might be.

I won’t lie when I say I found it in about one minute. It was sitting on my desk right next to me. Oddly enough, my first journal entry is far further in this story than I thought as it was written on October 9th, 2022 (thank God I wrote down dates!) Here goes my first entry.

10-09-22 (#1)

My first dream, I remember being at Home Depot, working while pushing carts. I was very sick and delusional and the atmosphere was rainy and dark. All I could feel was gloom and sadness. There was no one to help me which added to the exhaustion. A customer managed to break 3 carts in half and I had to try and fix them, but I couldn’t. The feeling of wanting to go home was very strong.

10-09-22 (#2)

This time I was in a small class with two other men. It was our first day and our professor was already making us write books worth of homework. But, she soon assigned us Minecraft assignments and the rest of the class was devoted to playing Minecraft. A mixture of falling while playing the game repeatedly occurred and was frightening, yet exhilarating and fun.

Though my timeline of the dream journal and me beginning to write it might be skewed in this story I’ve been telling, as you can see from October 9th’s dreams of the year 2022, it was in fact something I started to do. There were quite a few pages from this journal missing and I can’t recall if they were pages of old homework from school and the notebook was one I self-recycled or not. But, I thought I had started writing these way earlier in my life. Maybe one day, I’ll write up all of these dreams into some sort of official funny document, but as of right now, they’ll all stay in that book. It might honestly be for the better!

Either way, it’s obviously apparent that I became obsessed with this idea of Brianna and I began to play my life events in my head over and over again, and this might have been harmful to me later on, but at the early stages of these occurrences, I was very much into reading. Being the introvert that I was in school, and having no access to a smart device, I used to read so so so many books all the time! My best friend in high school wasn’t any other student really but the faculty and staff, specifically our school librarian Mrs. Hogue.

Every time I’d walk into that library which was probably like twice a week, she’d see me and know it was time for me to become obsessed with a new story or spend the next however many months of my life engrossed in a series. I absolutely loved Mrs. Hogue and while she was very strict with all the other obnoxious kids, she loved me too. We used to talk about life and such and the day I graduated, she was one of the people I made sure of to talk to her and wish her a goodbye to.

Anyways, this obsession with writing and reading of mine was one that really flourished during high school due to these circumstances. It feels rather odd writing now when I haven’t gone about it aside from formal essays and school work since specifically 2018.

2018 was the year that I decided to run with a lot of these creative concepts my mind had created over Brianna and turn them into an actual book with full on character development, a family for Brianna, a place to live and friendships and occupations of all sorts! This is why I mentioned just earlier that this might’ve been more harmful to me, because, sometimes I can’t remember with Brianna what’s memories and what’s a figment of my imagination developed by a creative and passionate former younger writer of myself.

Either way, at this point in my life you could tell I was so devoted to the idea of Brianna being a real person, and this one specific idea plagued me like no other.

The idea was that Brianna was also dreaming of me and that we could only communicate through our collective dreams.

This idea for a young hopeless romantic was intensely alluring and from this idea became the now published and only book of mine, “The Fracture of Reality.” In this book, there’s two main characters named Ian and Brianna. Ian oddly enough matches almost identically all my physical and intellectual traits, some of the only differences being him having a place of his own, a pretty successful job and a bit more muscle, almost as though he were a version of myself I hope to one day be.

Brianna, well, she was and is the Brianna that I know.

The premise of this book was, well how should I put it? Better yet, I’ll just plug in the summary from the back of the book I wrote many years ago!

“Dreams and reality are relatively similar terms. Dreams describe and amplify events that occur in reality whereas reality can capture what little glimpses of the dreams remain. But, it never occurred to me that the two could blur together. Only when it was too late did I start to realize that reality was fracturing…”

Although this summary doesn’t really expound on what the book was about, only now do I find it so profound that I established this saying, this line of thought while I was still younger. I’ll write to you now that the basic premise of the story was a bit of a thriller! Ian begins to have these dreams where he meets and speaks to this mysterious tranquil and beautiful girl. He starts to fall in love with her as he slowly begins to realize that she is in fact real and having dreams of him also. But, with his dreams comes the slow beginning of his down fall where his dreams start to predict horrific events that will occur relatively soon. Along with the dreams comes the mental breaking down of his sanity with a deadly progression exponentially on it’s way to happen far too soon. Through the connecting of his dreams, he needs to find Brianna who he hopes when finding her, will stop the terrifying decline of his conscious nature.

In the end, and [insert spoiler warning here hehe], Ian finally meets up with Brianna only to have one of his dreams predict a horrible event of him and her being hunted by some men that Brianna had gotten in bad with during her youthfully naïve years. The story ends with Brianna and Ian in a cottage after Ian in real life has been shot. The story ends with Ian being unsure as to whether or not his dream reality is real life, or if his reality with the pain of the bullet in him is the truth. Brianna tells him that it doesn’t matter, and tries to convince him that the current peaceful reality that they’re currently in? That that moment and that present feeling is real, and that’s what really truly matters.

Look at me, doing a synopsis of my own books six years later! Writing this book and creating my dream journal and doing research was really the first phase of my obsession with Brianna. The older I’d get though, the more it’d become real to me. I’m unsure as to whether the past eight years of my life has made this idea so authentically real to me, but now I see this all as fact rather than speculation and a possible decline in my sanity that I used to be subconsciously aware of.

More years would progress in my life and would lead to the graduation of my high school and the starting up of college at my community college. There, I’d me one of my best friends which will most likely be my best friend for life KJ, but it was also a time of maturing and shying away from the ideas of Brianna as much. Rather than focusing on the idea of her, instead I got so busy with work at Home Depot, balancing friendships at community college, and still trying to socialize with my family that I hardly thought of her.

But, circumstances would change and even though I went a while without thinking about her, she was always there. When I began my first semester at Columbia State and accidentally sat next to this absolutely beautiful girl named, you guessed it, “Brianna,” I thought that she was her! Only to find out like literally two days into the semesters that she was married, whoops! But I still became friends with her and weird stuff like that would occur every so often, but at this point in time, life was changing so rapidly and my mind was always so distracted that Brianna began to fade.

I’d still have my occasional dreams and when those hit, it’d be more difficult than it used to be. The feeling of wanting to stay in those dreams was so strong and so hard to swallow when I woke up and realized it’d only been in my head.

With school starting though, my priorities changed a lot in life! My job was the least of my concerns at Home Depot and I’d more often than not skip all of my shifts as it always drained me of all my energy having to socialize with a bunch of people I didn’t care for or care about. All the small talk became irritating and whenever I was there, I guess I had come to associate that little hardware store with the idea of loss and gloom. I mean, if my dream journal didn’t speak enough for itself, I think it’s because I missed out on my one and only chance to actually talk to Brianna.

My new priorities were to make as many friends as possible and to turn this new page in life and that’s exactly what I did! I was incredibly social and went out of my way to introduce myself to total strangers just to try and escape the old Mike and pursue a new version of him.

It wouldn’t take long for Brianna to come back to me though.

Nobody that tells you how quickly life goes by can truly explain the depths of what that means and you sort of need to experience it yourself, and with the pandemic of Covid-19 happening around 2020, those two years at community school and the two years at MTSU would go by like a wisp of air. Like a breath, **** the time went by. Sure there was quite a bit of stuff that happened throughout that time, like me beginning to fall in love with creating content through YouTube about Minecraft, getting internships and freelance work for my degree as a Graphic Designer where I won competitions and published my art in many places and had the opportunities to be in a crazy high end internship.

But the amount of time, was just literally gone. I was too busy. Brianna became an afterthought.

That is, until fairly recently. To drop some dates for you, I created my first official youtube channel on September 18th, 2019 and published my first video four years ago a day after I made the channel. At first, my channel of Minecraft specific content was created both to prove to my brothers that I could create content as incredible as the youtubers we watched, but it was also just in hopes of turning it into an actual career since it was something I genuinely was okay at. Having had architecture for for years in high school Minecraft felt like a more creative and liberating way to express those abilities and live them out in an actual environment I had created. But also, Minecraft was an excuse for me to turn off my mind.

Covid and the pandemic was sort of the greatest thing to ever happen to me, because it gave me so much time to think and play this wonderful game. I know I mentioned above how I didn’t think about Brianna that much, and that part is true, but when I had those dry moments of playing Minecraft and grinding out some simple tasks of literally just breaking and placing blocks, my mind would wander to her. I used to choose the most essentially mind numbing tasks of mining for hours upon hours which only consisted of holding down a button and occasionally moving your character around to mine some more. But though the task was completely and utterly boring, my mind was active as ever thinking and wondering about Brianna.

Finding these quiet moments in life were far and few between, but I began to cherish them. All the moments from day dreaming while mowing the lawn and sweating to death in the 100 degree sun, to sitting in my car after a long first four hours at Home Depot while staring at a semi-vacant parking lot, to even just the long walks across my enormous campus at MTSU or the long walk from parking spots I chose purposefully to be super far away from my campus at Columbia State. These moments while rare, gave me a chance to keep Brianna at least in the back light of all the real life moments I was constantly distracted and thrown around with.

But, going back to Minecraft when I got into youtube, this changed everything.

I went from having at least some spare moments to having literally no moments at all. The only time I would rest was when I had experienced such bad burn out from trying to do everything everywhere all at once, and between that and the occasional sleep I would get, my mind had no time to think. I still can easily get into that workaholic mind set sometimes and it’s a dangerous one to be in, but I’ve gotten better as I’ve figured out why I believe I fell into that mindset in the first place.

The reason was to escape Brianna’s grasp.

As I went through school hanging out with friends and making new one’s internationally through the development of an ever expanding youtube channel, I had just about no time for anything. The only time I had to stop and think was my 10 minute drive to get food and even in those moments, I had no time to think, because I was too busy driving trying not to get killed by crazy drivers.

Three years of school went by before I finally said that enough was enough. With school being as difficult as it was, I decided to “retire” from my newfound love of youtube because in all honesty, it was driving me mad. My retirement video from Minecraft came out on December 5th, 2022. I stepped away from the never ending grind and set out to enjoy life and the little moments that life offered.

The only problem with this was that my mind began to ponder Brianna once again.

At this time in my life, after retiring I was actually working for a famous youtuber named PrestonPlayz. It was a random freelance job and for the past year or so I had been jumping from freelance to freelance work with little regards to cost and payments real life had always waiting around the corner for me.

This would make me end up ultimately getting a job back at Home Depot for a few months to pay off debts I had incurred from being financially stupid and buying stuff I didn’t really need. But, between all the financial problems and weird life situations I had so much more time to think about Brianna. The dreams of her still occurred every so often but the frequency at which they had started to occur was less and less. Maybe this was all due to me reaching a new level of maturity, but I’m still not entirely sure what caused it. Maybe it was the distraction of a busy workaholic life or the hopes to find someone, really anyone that was a girl that would love me that I could love back.

But, like I said my mind began to think about her more and more. I began to see her in my thoughts like I had years ago previously and it almost felt like I was back sliding into some weird territory I had just grown oblivious to with the amount of time that had passed. Either way, that was my life. A jumbled mess of thoughts and ideas all scattered in a brain far too busy to stop and breathe coming to the new age of silence and habit.

With my mind able to breathe, I thought of her again. . . and then I saw her again. . .

I can’t remember the exact day or time of year, but on one of these days of my “retirement” I was driving home after having just gotten some taco bell. (I was obsessed with the place back then) Driving up my street, I saw a girl with long dark curly hair and bright pink clothes, what might have even been pajama pants on her, walking up my street! I didn’t think much of it until I looked into my sider mirror and saw her face and saw that it was the one and only, Brianna.

Brianna was walking up my street right next to my house. In person. Alive and breathing.

I panicked and jumped out of my car with my taco bell nearly crashing to the ground as I roared into park in my driveway with my car. With bare feet, since I used to drive with no shoes when I went to fast food place, I dove onto an aggregate driveway and started running down it, knowing that there was no way on earth I was missing my chance to finally talk to her. I had nothing but time that day, and I was overly excited to finally introduce myself in person

But when I turned around, Brianna was gone. She’d simply vanished into thin air? I still don’t know how or why, but she was gone. . . possibly gone forever. . .

This experience drove my efforts to find her to another level of passion as I began to research through many google forums and sites and social media platforms praying to God that I’d be able to find her. It didn’t matter if I had to cross the entire ocean to get to her, I was going to find Brianna, no matter what.

I started to revisit old ground and went to the Home Depot I had worked at, asking the new manager there if he could search records and being able to find her that way. I found old coworkers I used to work with and asked around trying to find any trail or any lead and couldn’t find a single thing. I even managed to find Brad Brad’s Instagram and messaged him only for him to have literally no idea what I was talking about, go figure.

With nothing working and having literally no idea on what else I could do, I began to passionately work on a project called, “The Bri of My Dreams.” What this basically was was an ARG or alternate reality game which was a puzzle game I setup for my prior youtube community to solve and have fun with. But, it was more than that. It was the telling of the story of Brianna in a way that I could hopefully publicize and gain some popularity on so that maybe instead of me finding Brianna, she’d be able to rather find me! So, I started working on it behind the scenes unbeknownst to anyone in my community that I was going to use this new found passion project to hopefully find her, but also to bring me back to youtube content creation.

To this day, I’m still not sure why I wanted to go back to youtube. Well I know some underlying reasons, that being tied loosely to Brianna, but now many months later still being at it, I’m unsure as to the real reason why I still create stuff on there.

Either way, after creating an entire animated short film with a script and what I consider to be one of my greatest projects of all time, “The Bri of My Dreams” project was finalized and ready to publish. I put it out there hoping that it was only a matter of time before I finally heard from her.

Hardly anyone noticed I’d returned to youtube, let alone my project failing horribly as only close friends I knew even attempted the puzzles.

My final efforts produced literally no results, and well, this brings me to about right now, this moment that I’m actually writing this all down on May 1st 2024 at 4:21 p.m CDT. For the past few hours I’ve written down all of this while listening to The Caretaker album on youtube, a depressing soundtrack meant to represent the stages of alzheimer's.

This morning while sitting around doing nothing really, I looked up Brianna one last time, despite me telling myself I would be done with her after my ARG project. I found a girl, about the same age as me that matched the name and the description. Her father’s name was funnily enough the same as my own, Michael.

What I found about her and her father were obituary statements.

I’m unsure if it’s okay or morally right to even think that might’ve been her, but something I noticed when doing research about Brianna in my earlier days. . . For some odd reason there’s a lot of young beautiful Briannas who unfortunately die in their early 20’s. It’s an odd and horrifying fact I’ve come to know over the past few years through my odder than odd research.

But, this case I found today? Well the exact date this Brianna died on correlated almost exactly when my dreams stopped of her.

I don’t dream of Brianna anymore. I haven’t for years. . .

I think the reason I’m writing this, is my own way of finally saying goodbye. Wherever she is, I hope she’s okay. I hope she’s well. But as for me, life continues to go on and it’s finally time after these past eight years to finally say. . .

Goodbye Brianna. I’ll miss you. . .

— The End —