well, if the kings the tsars and the viceroys of this world
can take a break from all the fucking
and drinking and banking on authority,
and somehow, somehow, manage to squeeze
a game of chess in, into their busy schedule?
then the paupers playing videos games
are only the sore loser society is expected
to entertain? about life:
nothing felt as good as having
the capacity and the captivation to loße...
yes, i am aware...
actors demand this ever so frequently
to have in them, the capacity to act -
to have perfected disinhibition...
to never be self-aware...
self-concsciousness / the alias of
being self-conscious is an enemy of the actor...

herzlich willkommen vergessenheit...
all those who inhabit horror
want to be baptized by oblivion...
for comfort...
to be unaware of a self...
to never have the doubts of self-consciousness...
to marry oblivion...
leaving the self in the abstract "self" box
of jack's last pretenses.

- i take games onto the throne of thrones:
i.e., the shitter, like some people who
take snippets of philosophy books to
the same cest pit... not as hiatus reading
lodged between grandparents,
with one suffering from dementia...
who the fuck actually reads on a beach,
under an umbrella shade?
that's right... no one!
but i take games on the shitter...
games... i like strategy...
at one point in HNG's the pirate:
carribean hunt...
you have to capture a town...
i figured... could i beat the guarding ships
and the fort with only one ship?
sure i could...
already at level 26...
so i did unlock the bombadier / devestator skills...
the trapmaster and the exterminator skills...
i attacked the fort, a galley, a frigate,
two galleons and a sloop of war with
only a war galleon...
but... i bated them...
i bated them out of the range of the fort...
i didn't shoot a single cannon ball...
i just started dropping gunpowder barrels
for them to land on...
with one ship... i sank a galley, a frigate,
two galleons and a sloop of war...
turns out the modern gaming experience
is not what it used to be...
nothing akin to IRL war robots sort of gaming...
good for me... i ended my gaming adventure
on PS1... and waited...
until internet gaming came around...
and i had a chance to play RP (real players)...
no AI narrative...
sure... a free game with in-game purchases...
playing with a handicap...
since the rich Russians / Kazakhi / Chinese /
Americans... would buy the in-game purchases...
never mind...
but the first time one could come
across an AI canvas (room)...
with IRL players... with nothing being scripted...
war robots was just the game...

and if i did invest beyond the PS1?
would i own the books i own?
or the music i own?
the Romford public library had only one
book worth rentind...
dr. faustus by thomas mann...
i have a personal library that's worth
more than the public library of Romford, Essex...

- fuck man... i only went as far as PS1...
metal gear solid, final fantasy VII,
i didn't learn to play VIII...
tenchu... and some people gambled...
and if i had someone to play backgammon with
like Humphrey Bogart in the Barefoot Contessa...
i would have...
why think a game less than
a game of kings and viceroys akin to chess?
sure... the a.i. isn't as intelligent...
with only 1 ship you can sink 5...
and bombard a fort...

here's to this being a passing fancy,
and all those girls wedded to the sort of men
who find comfort in train-models!
or philately!
good grief is he should have found
all his favorite past-times before finding
a wife... byzantine chants... templar chants...
you name it...
kabbalah... oh god forbid he finds that!
next thing you know...
he'll be throwing a kippah's worth
of a frisbee and not entertaing
saturday early afternoons on...
sodding off to play a chance of golf!

all the actors are short...
who play really big people...
"big" as in... big...
the oompa loompa brigade...

- i was never a major gamer - not by the current
dictionary standard...
you're not supposed to be,
having left gaming at PS1 to pursue both
a study of chemistry, or "philosophy"...
having to resort to an antithesis rhyme
and have to call "it" - it: "poetics"...
scrambled egg cognition...

i can't picture the years that my "friend" spent,
acquiring a PS2, and god knows the number
of consoles in between...
i guess i waited: but didn't wait
until i had waited for the thing i was looking
for had found me... IRL gameplay...
i wasn't looking for anything to begin with...
but what came as...
that necessary escape of the AI narrative
plotline of a story...
games with a beginning middle and end...
now? games are inexhaustible...
you can't finish them...
what once came in the form of a cheat-book...
and the fact that a game
would cost you 20 quid and fill up
saturday morning afternoon hours...
has now... become...
inexhauastible... the in-game transactions
have allowed this to happen...
akin to the old cheat-books...
good luck playing final fantasy VII
without a walkthrough...
and also going out to the mall...
with your misfit mates...
and doing your homework...
and sitting with your parents
for the saturday night premier...

beside abba...
roxette's album joyride...
nothing to be ashamed of...
watercolours in the rain...
the perfect pop album...
prog-pop even!

the best part of my 20s... philosophy books...
interludes with prostitutes...
the one lazy afternoon visit my grandparents...
alone, per usual,
i learned mahjong solitaire..
cards bored me...
i learned it... some men only thrive in solitude...
even if that confines of solitude do not
grace the zeniths of mountains,
or the nadirs of marine trenches...
you can have sex with as many women
as you can imagine...
but if you can't escape a soliloquy
with one's self?
no need to burden yourself
with a leech of wanting a relationship...
alea iacta est...
no one requires the sort of cliff-hangers
begging the question of: "what if"?

could i have been a good, better opposed to:
a father?
if we are in pronoun neutral territory...
how about a neutral territory
of association of men toward:
fatherhood... for starters...
i'm not expected to be a father...
i'm a complicated child to begin with...
a child who sees his birth
as having to not come
from the unnecessary pains of women:
clearly they could have been alleviated
with a cesarean section: clearly...
indle man... the ideal...

yet the memory of my grandparents
and my great-grandparents is too strong
on the maternal side of my existence...
as it is completely missing
on my paternal side...
that my maternal great-grandfather
laughed with sincerity:
as i laugh too...
that he owned his 32 pearls until
the end of his life... i have had dreams
of teeth... endless dreams of teeth...
and i have... pristine choppers...
i guess i am readying my "genes"
to an exit... unlike some atheist
still so preoccupied with passing
gene-memory / consciousness...
i'm bowing out...

the maternal side of my construct is
bowing out... in one aspect of splitting...
i am bowing out, my uncle is bowing out
(uncle? brother to my mother)...
how desperate would i have to be
to own a sex barbie?
answer? too desperate...

why bother with all the wilting atheist
angst concerning itself with
a sense of continuity?
the damned creator...
compensated with a sycophantic association
toward the creation:
nothing can be ever over-simplified...
everything must be made into
a gargantuan over-simplified
choir of: cherish! cherish! cherish!

they're games... there's something
innocent about them,
innocent in that they are simulations...
but when people end up
having a genesis critique that
associates: neck-beards?
pogonophobia?
i have a double-chin...
the argument of "salvaging western society"
has to begin with neck beards?
my beard is the Eden,
and my laryngeal prominence needs to
be hidden... hidden but not forbidden...
imagine me: making a youtube video
these days... given the escalation
of herr censor's activities...

i couldn't have children,
i'm too much of a library of a people that
want to exit...
perhaps i have been born with
a nagging persuasion to find:
the befitting end of all that strife
that came prior...
perhaps being someone with a
vivid visual memory of their great-grandparents...
that's how the die krupps cookie crumbles...
die krupps! a famous german metalurgy dynasty...
ended up being a solo gay playboy
spending all the savings...

when the past has invested so much
memory in a future advent that's
concentrated in an individual (i.e. you)...
perhaps the past is shouting:
don't! go! forward!
for all the joys of raising children...
the current climate?
pedagogy for starters?
i'd rather raise a dog riddled with
rabies to be honest...

this is no, vanity, project!
nein eitelkeitprojekt!
only with a break can you escape the atheistic
sycophancy project...
to escape the tri'ad...
no hyphenated words in german?
how about the apostrophe? tri'ad?
you can break away...
when you have a living example
of a maternal great-grandmother...
and a ghostly memory of a maternal
great-grandfather...

likewise in the paternal sphere...
although... that's going to be rare to find...
since... a man is born to parents...
he marries a woman...
thus acquiring new parents by law...
having to discard his original parents
for the woman pulling him toward
her realm of being fathered / mothered...

a man is supposed to be born
into a surrogacy... a "surrogacy"...
he's supposed to become the son
of his wife's mother and father...
while having to discard his own mother
and father...
he's supposed to forget about them,
even if they are to die desolate...
his wife's mother and father
are to be minded...

perhaps i'm not the modern man...
or am the modern man...
being unable to stomach this divorce...
perhaps all men should be born
to surrogate parents,
in orphanages...
i can't imagine the fate of men
who had to disown their own mothers
for mothers-in-law...
sure... their mother earned
a momentary joy of being
a free individual, autonomous...
but then 80 kicked in...
the arthritis, the dementia...

i could never marry a woman out
of the fear of having to abandon my parents...
however a horrid son i might have been...
horrid... what, drinking alone
and being as silent as a grave...
a museum of memory itching me?
yeah... even that bad...
but all in order to sacrifice for
a love of a woman,
in order for her to discard my beginning
with her beginning,
her parents to be prized assets
and mine to be discarded as filth?!

perhaps this is why i didn't marry...
unless i was my father...
at least his parents gave him
the ideal start... this idea must have been
bothering my ancestors for some time...
my father? was abandoned by
his mother and his father...
raised by my
grandfather's parents (great-grandparents)...
the mother moved away...
the father stayed close by and observed...
he was and wasn't an orphan...

but that's how all men should be raised...
by surrogates... by orphanages...
in order to accommodate a woman's
tendency to pull a man toward
her own parents...
i can't imagine how else it would work...
thrown into the deep end:
lucky fucker! learn to swim!

and a woman: will pull a man toward her
own parents... while man...
is supposed to abandon them...
better he be abandoned by them...
than have to abandon them.