Archive for March, 2015

I had an inkling…

Posted: 2015-03-14 in Man-child

Bright blue sky, sunshine unfettered, snow on the ground, good condition. The athletes compete, we watch and enjoy, one way or another.

Eric points to the fox, makes me laugh.

The other fans though make me feel sad, they are all so happy and full of life. The girl hands the guy a can of beer (that should be me). Healthy and young; athletic, upright and Norwegian – what more could you want your clique to be?

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Native title.

Posted: 2015-03-14 in Uncategorized

Friday the 13th. No one mentions it to our hero – does *it* even exist? And, really, the day is better than most. So, what’s in a number?

 

Happiness is a clear bench, empty of crap and clutter. So, go butter another’s ass, so crass and blass.

Do you read? Depleted battery.

The panic merchants and sellers of printed pages proclaim that “Putin’s Secret Army” is on the march and after “YOU”. But really, Spetsnaz is nothing new. Go figure.

The look.

Posted: 2015-03-12 in Man-child

The man-child is entranced by the woman’s face. She is beautiful and confident-seeming. A slight, somehow enigmatic smile plays on her lips. Above all, however, she looks intelligent, wise. The man-child doesn’t know how to explain it: her eyes are deep, and her intelligent look bespeaks kindness more than anything else, almost as if it’s directed towards him, personally. Grace. True love. That feeling bestows some responsibility and the man-child feels the need to act, to “clean up his act”, perhaps. He wants to have sex with this woman, he wants to reach her as, in her (he reasons), he might just find some salvation.

Congratulations Katya, you did awesomely, when no one really gave you a chance.

Katya, you are a hero (I hope you don’t mind me being familiar but I feel we are somewhat kindred spirits).

Put in the race to fill a space, perhaps, back of the field, even when you started to make yourself noticed, the commentators could only talk about you being “out of favor” with the coaches.

And Gabriella occupied herself with her smartphone and gloating self-satisfied in being a Princess victor, too soon, ignoring, you, the real champion.

Congratulations Katya, you won awesomely, with grit, determination and a certain poetic, epic, clever magnetism. Rewriting the script, rephrasing the prosaic.

Kaisa obviously appreciated your performance and so did I. Consider it a new volume of poetry released, published for the public’s enrichment.

Monarchy is dead.

Posted: 2015-03-10 in Uncategorized

Your royal family, are they really some kind of deity? Just because they popped out of the right cunt? Is that what Buddhism leads to? Human gods, royalty above everyone else, an ever-present excuse to subject and order, living in luxury, enjoying power, while the “normal” people live in shit, wanting (desperately needing) change, but still praying for your wellbeing, and stopping obediently (no matter what) whenever the loudspeakers demand genuflexion.

The surgeon advises her female students that it’s best to give the man a blowjob, whenever asked, if they want to get a job at the end of the process. … Disgusting. This is the world we live in? Like, what kind of dick would even ask for such a “favor”? A sad motherfucker, for sure, albeit one with status and, to boot, handy with a knife. Would you want him to operate on your mother?

The man died – unexpected, tragic. He left behind a family, a multitude of shared experiences and love. His wife, it seems, could no longer bear to live in the house he called a home, she moved in with an adult daughter.

The former home got stripped bare, left empty in the cold of winter, gray. I looked on, appalled at the obvious scavenging, vacant looks of automatic calculation, the lack of care, the lack of despair, the obvious appraising of items out of the man’s formerly prized collection (various tools acquired over a lifetime, categorized & carefully organized) (what was now worth keeping, selling, ditching?).

And now his widow has placed his home up for sale and I read with despair the realtor’s description: words like “potential”, “upgrade” and “renovate” ring nastily to me (though they mean it to be a selling feature). I sigh and shake my head. Really, it seems I was the man’s only true friend. I am disgusted that now his castle is made to seem like a hovel. (It may have been fit for him, the crusty old soldier, but obviously it isn’t enough for you, without renovation – why, in an epic effort, I helped my friend fix his garage roof but a year ago (howling winds’ destruction path), now the structure is derided, and the public passes judgement on a property (history, life story) they know nothing about.)

Undersold house. Undersold life.

Nation State

Posted: 2015-03-08 in Uncategorized

Another headache, constant howling winds battering. It’s truly a wonder that anything is left standing, let alone functioning.

I switch on the TV, see some news and weather, and feel alienated. The focus is on another reality, someone else’s norm, very distant from here, very distant from me and this reality, even though it be the same supposed nation state. Yet, the presenter presents with an authority and arrogance that pre-supposes we all live up her ass. Yes, the establishment love her. She is a tool. … Personally, I have more in common with rural Mongolian Communists.

Anchors sink.

Posted: 2015-03-06 in Uncategorized

I like to listen to the news, on my terms, whilst I do other things, productive, not just sitting limply watching the anchors sink.

 

I make a special effort to watch the Nordic Combined, saddened by the lack of fans packing the stands. 

I remember when we first corresponded, in those beautiful kinda early sunrise days of the internet, where new horizons were just starting to be explored: your email address ended with .su & I thought you were linked into Finland (Suomi) (.su, of course!). I was amazed to later learn that .su actually was assigned to the Soviet Union, a few years dead now; apparently Russia had assumed the mantle. … And so it continues… And where do we stand now?

1999.

Posted: 2015-03-06 in Uncategorized

I was there in 1999. Napster soon after changed things. But in 1999, you had to be *there*. And there I saw you going crazy (like many others, but worse than most), and I saw you grabbing and groping the poor slight girl, her clothes torn off violently after crowdsurfing went wrong (if nothing else, you put your fingers inside of her). And I saw you smile – you looked like you were truly happy.

And now I see you on my TV screen, smiling, apparently happy again. This time you have received the politician’s endorsement, the right to run and represent, to strive to put your greedy hands upon some other jewel, to corrupt and destroy others. And, my-oh-my, isn’t that a nice-looking silk tie you’re wearing – I bet it’d look even better used as a gag on that oh-so-aptly beautiful political wife you’ve got at your side, stuffed in between her swollen lips, while she is spread-eagled and you are hard. … And you a family man, most moral and upright, religious as they say, a conservative, free-market guru … Get ready for a fall in the market!