to claim something to be of an involuntary nature is to claim it to be reflexive... i hardly think everything in man's possession is applied reflex insect like stimulation - involuntary - that stance of absolutism that man is without free will: i'm sure even in this absolutist mentality - there's room for will per se, perhaps not free will (whatever that means except pure rebellion) - but there's also the bondaged will - the will of responsibility - unwilling to do a 9 - 5 shift at work - yet willing to do so, to have a conversation with a spouse / child after work... involuntary... what a bogus term... i should be termed an involuntary celibate... by 21 i experienced what is required for steer away from the attention of gnats and vultures... and if i missed anything - prostitutes helped me out... the 3Ps "pillars" of society: psychiatrists, priests, prostitues... tough luck having a claustrophobic personality like me... only old people seem to stand my jumping from one topic to another... involuntary - reflexive - you're not reflexive about celibacy... unless you had time to reflect upon the alternative... it's not a continued narrative requiring reiteration... celibacy is a reflexive per se - so why would incels treat celibacy as a reflective per se: something that requires continual attention and explaining / revision? it either happens... or it doesn't! involuntary would be just fine... but no man has ever transcended his biology - unless he was castrated... i voluntarily sought celibacy until i came across celibacy involuntarily having experienced women and found them: to be "disagreeable" to my placebo solipsism experience - the sex... sure... but when you're a boyfriend / girlfriend and she starts reading to you a questionnaire from Cosmopolitan magazine about how much of a great girlfriend she is and how lucky you are to have her? one visit to a brothel... puff! snow white disney magic turns out to be a line of cocaine and a horny bonnie lass. i'm pretty sure i don't know what women want, i can't compete with a woman concerning her sexual appetites: after all i'm not the one who becomes pregnant and has those secrets that are what defines a woman - why would men compete for imagination during a sexual intercourse... haven't we gone elsewhere with our time? i'm not going to drag feminism into every single deviation of man's quest for answers... feminism can attack the humanities... and the quasi-science of philosophy... sure sure... marie curies... etc. - here's to more whiskey and ginger ale.

a thought requiring yesterday -
to have in my possession a shirt that feels
like cotton-candy to the lips on my shoulders
and torso and back...
you would never cut corners when
buying shoes -
i guess shirts are pretty much the same -
i could be wearing nettle-like fabric on
my legs and i don't think i would complain -
an itching crotch is just one way
to walk the walk down a crowded street -
have i ever drank in public?
and waltzed past the oncoming throng
on the millenium bridge heading back
to st. paul's cathedral? yep...
prior to i had to entertain a colt
who found it absolutely fascinating
to be sitting next to me in a turkish akimbo
on a public rectangle modern art's take
on the architecture of a bench...
i guess me smiling tipsy gave me away:
he was looking for what i was once looking
for - but he didn't know it:
if he did - he wouldn't be found imitating
me so closely -
he would have thought what i was doing:
nothing thinking -
not thinking a tier below -
nothing thinking involves you searching
for something with no clarity
of A to B on the vector AB...
which is a summary of the bewildering:
for the pursuit of happiness...
god save me from happiness...
i was happy once... 21... Ilona...
fantastic sex... great intellect -
we could talk Kundera and Bulgakov...
oh the sex was great...
every time i stopped the foreplay and went
for the phallic gymnastics
if you stood me under moonlight
you'd think someone smeared
olive oil and oyster juices all over my face...
thank god i didn't have facial hair back
then...
as with all great sex...
it's best kept in memory -
it can never translate into a settled relationship:
i'm pretty sure much of the people
who have relationships will experience
1... 1 great sexual relationship
that could belong
in insect heaven...
as that grand quote from
the brothers karamazov:
to angels - vision of god's throne -
to insects - sensual lust -
i don't believe in replicas -
1 is already quiet enough -
it's related to so many external factors
that replicating it is like...
talking about titanic without hindsight:
to be honest - that's a!
shitty analogy:
because there is no good analogy to begin with
it's almost how society could have
looked like when it was desperately
striving against natural adversaries -
plague, disease... malnutrition...
i was 21 she was 18 / 19...
but now? well... we're spoilt for choice
these days!
1 baby in the oven - vasectomy...
no baby in the oven - freezing eggs -
sperm banks! the whole shabang!
here's to looking for the intellectual
capacity of reciprocration -
well... but... the pursuit of happiness -
the moment i became happy -
i became dragged by sadness -
not reflective melancholy - thoughtful sadness -
irritating sadness...
pursuit of happiness:
as in? happy in Iraq? happy in Afghanistan?
happy in Vietnam?
happiness is a flimsy dedication
to frivolity... and all manner of mismanaged time...
ants in your pants sort of happiness:
toward the endless perpetuated distraction...
to pursue peace - de pacem domine:
the peace of god - pontius pilate washed his hands...
and thus came the totality of all possibility:
a free will -
oi! preacher...
take me back to 2003,
back to Taizé france... i suppose all
incels should visit a monk community -
that's who i feared as a child watching my first
horror movie: hellraiser -
pinhead...
i delved into the matter...
cenobite - an old out of vogue term for: monk...
i have my satiated heart and wet-willy -
one failed relationship -
back when you were young and could
pretend to be either god or a solipsist or both,
then thinking was less deconstructive and
more narration prone -
when you rarely didn't think -
or you pretended to stop thinking solving
a mathematical "problem"
in that rubric of memory erosion of
the system of schooling by the pedagogy masters...
now? the perfect cinema - memory -
i can now remember and realise:
back then i didn't realise what i realise now:
i can fashion myself toward the cameo role!
after all... the gods and h. p. lovecraft nightmares
have all the theatre stage,
the lead roles -
in catholic school they tried to teach us:
imagine yourself as a dot on earth,
then start zooming out... out out past the moon
until you stop seeing the earth...
i suppose this involves having to make
use of the n.a.s.a. / sputnik space projects...
the only reason i have such an active memory:
sex in the bath was something...
on the floor that she almost had carpet burns...
favorite position?
flat on her front - a lying doggy-style -
and she loved doing it before a mirror...
she was so happy that she woke up one
rainy morning when i was sleeping
and she wrote that: angels sang when i was
sleeping...
i know what love at first sight looks like
in reverse - she took my iPod while i was making
pancakes since the girls in the room
forgot to put oil into the runny dough
and the pancakes were sticking and burning...
girl was sold...
and she looked her most despicable worst...
manky dreads she was donned long -
hairstyle? pineapple...
half finished tattoos...
three lip piercings that made kissing her
feel like a one-night stand with an iron maiden...
no... she wasn't a fucking mona lisa...
she just had what every man should say:
no woman is ugly... some women?
are just neglected... there's potential...
but it's thanks to this relationship that i can find
my source of extinguishing the fancies of god
and solipsist in me:
well - solipsism is still a game i test on cats
while they test the game on me...
but memory has become a welcome cinema -
and i get to play the cameo,
well: as pretty much should everyone else...
always: if the sex is overwhelmingly good -
it will never become a poached egg
on a crumpet and hot coco for breakfast
come morning...
cuddling and snuggling is out of
the question... spooning come morning more like...
sex mad telling her that protected sex
on her period will ease her pains...
reluctantly she would agree...
now... this is not really about her -
it's oddly about me -
it's how i loved - how i fucked -
she? she was engaged to me:
oddly enough she proposed to me -
and now aged 31 she's on her second marriage -
she still slept with a few guys on the sly
in her first marriage -
me? saint? teutonic knights of Malbork
had a brothel in their convent / military base...
it's the best feeling in the world...
no emotional commitment -
and esp. no one-night-stand pick-up artist
lies - schematics etc.,
an honest transaction...
and... as one exclaimed: this is only the second
time it has happened to me...
an orgasm on the job...
after all... i'm a man:
a prostitute will spend the money to keep
the economy - you can't exactly have an
economy that only focuses on whiskey or beer,
or ginger ale, or cigarettes...
unless: you're western virginia for the tobacco...
scotland for the whiskey
and germany for the beer...
it doesn't take a fucking genius to figure out
that men spend money on necessary things...
or rather: selfish-necessary things...
but we do come to a conclusion:
i would own more vinyl records than
a woman would own shoes...
that's a certain...
why shoes?! i never figured out: why shoes?!
some things, i just don't want to know...
what would that make me?
some weed-butt feminist ally or whatever
the current lingo is?
as i once made emphasis of:
i completely distrust the faculty of imagination -
i have none -
hypermnesia - i can tell you what happened
to me when i was 4...
obviously it's as selective as natural
selection - but it's not a regressive form of memory -
regression being the tool that makes
memory mutated: by, typically,
a psychiatric insinuation to stage a false
diagnosis parameter and explore it -
cognitive insemination...
but with no imagination?
i'm like a gluttonous void that either remembers
of entertains thinking, on the sporadic
assurance that is can become dissolved -
no wonder: i hardly dream -
i could almost become envious of people
who have complex dreams...
fuck me... a recurrent dream?!
what's that like: what a wheel is to a hamster?

how many alcoholics, et al addicts -
are "transgender" in attempting to replicate
pregnancy? who is co-dependent or rather
who isn't a co-dependent per se
to a borrowed biological reality of pregnancy?
how many would have said / but haven't really...
ad individuum: tolerance isn't necessarily true...
escape hatch:
if only you experienced pornography
via the naked still-images
rather than jumping into the deap end
of movies... hope! hope!
hope it was a dubbed italian classic!
otherwise? returning to the basic
origins: Bronzino -
the cupid's tender tongue eagering
the clap of venus' lips tender bite...
fucking h'american quakers -
this persistent vitriol of christianity ad hoc
rebellion...
basically little satan...
kids' vanguard and
motive for an already exhauated
narrative...

one doesn't mock the existence of god,,,
one begins to mock the somehow
"inate" persuasion for the necessity of
a god of intervention -
notably when one man's freedom
of will - overcome another inability
to match or challenge that form of: willed
exacting -
god will never be a circumstanced
character worth mocking -
what is mocked, concerning "god" is his
(pronouns are non-applicable, here -
i'd love to regurgitate when:
she thinks about her,
and how she - would play the devil's advocate
contemplating: each to his own) -
what's being mocked is
the approach associated with man's
dependency on a being
outside the curios stage of a voyeur...
only as an omni- prefix executive
litany of bow-down-before-me
stature - if only as a voyeur...
the joke comes:
when there are people who
are so desperate for a divine intervention -
this grandiose vanity project of man...
so grandiose...
that in england:
chances are... you'll become famous
via c.c.t.v. than on morning housewife channels...

and that other relationship:
my cutie highschool - comes back to me
with 5 girls as daughters -
perfectly bonded -
if only she didn't ask me what i was thinking,
if she only didn't exclaim:
what would my daddy think?
when she first, made it absolutely
a reluctant observation
of minding what her "daddy" thought
when she sucked me off -
while also telling me
that a friend of mine, a fwend,
sent her dick-selfies and she subdued
the urge to compare: but not really...
i was what she would ever want:
someone to watch the b.b.c. news
at 6pm... and reproduce the catholic way:
regurgitate what should be
a helium filled balloon...
but would have become a carbon dioxide
sinker...

what's with these h'americans being so fucking
quaker / puritanical /
when it comes to music...
nine inch nails?! that's the best you can
give me?
i'm sorry, did i miss something,
or am i requesting an audience with
the kindergarten polite society tribunal
telling them:
marquis de sade was in my brain
by the time i was 15...
children are hyper-sexed-up...
i was jerking off before i could
produce sperm...
i know the sensation of orgasm is unrelated
to ejaculation...
i remember teaching one circumcised boy
how to jerk off: telling him -
there's a "funny" sensation at the end
of rub rub...
being an uncircumcised male:
i would wreck a lot of hell in a community
of circumcised males...
and that's a: yours sincerely to karma...
when i was made a fool
when a boy said that my pet hamster
would survive the fall...
that a parachute would miraculously
appear... i killed my hamster from
the posit of naivety...
several of those happend to conclude...
right up to the point i decided to say:
well i know what sex is,
i know what a broken heart is...
i'll just sit this one out...
if the universe is so indifferent to me:
i can be as indifferent to it,
to begin with...

dragged down by a tonne of unmet expectations...
could this be a narrative over-burdened by
pronouns? i don't know -
i hardly think this a time to test
the aqua-"philia" of magnesium...

(thank god this will not sell
to catering to an audience required for
the success of fifty shades of grey)...

however best to write? to write is to somehow
forget what one begins with...
trailing off...
tourist guide one stanza...
a complete clown farce the next:
as you tell everyone to return into themselves...
i never knew why god became such
a faux pas...
it's as if you were making intentional
ref. to someone you knew that
had some involuntary capacity to intervene
on your behalf: like a prophet of islam
like a prophet of judaism...
our father... eh... more like:
frustra pater...
inanis pater...
how frustrating to have a god
that has sentenced himself to
the role of voyeur... only a voyeur could be
an omni- prefix litany of qualities...
only an ignorant thespian tribal god
would serve a people with an intervention...
but by intervening: he could not longer be
an omni- prefix litany of qualities...
an omni- prefix litany requires a voyeur god...
gnostic deism is my only alternative to
atheism and agnostic hedonism...
if a being is to be prefaced with such
horrid qualities - to be both omni- etc.
and to also possess personality traits?
that's impossible...
it's possible observing the paradox of
the electron when and when not observed...
the infinite quantity... could ever mingle
with an infinite quality?
hardly...
hence the finite quantity: hebrews
bound to the infinite qualities...
otherwise you have the "answer":
christianity...
an infinite quantity: catholic -
the universal church... any man can be a catholic...
subsequently anyone SHOULD be a muslim "convert"...
blah blah... would require a finite array
of qualities...
playing dead...
if this is the supposed
testing ground, the transient reality:
death's playground...
then... we would require a test specimen...
a white rabbit... the hebrews...
therefore the logic stands firm:
the finite quantity: hebrews...
bound to a being of infinite qualities...
rather than the bogus christian invention of -
the infinite quantity: christians...
bound to a being of "infinite" qualities -
placebo wishful-thinking...
if you're going to claim infinite quantities,
to represent hussling a universal man...
you're bound to come across
a finite deity that's prefixed litany of
omni- placebo traits!
fuck's sake... i'm drunk and even i understand
this cartwheel dynamic...

does me visting a brothel...
stealing kisses from prostitutes...
(which isn't easy!)
while also kissing their eyelids shut
when they tell me i'm their 20th and they
feel tired and we snuggle...
two land-stranded whales of muscle,
flab and teeth and hair and scents...
does that make me less concerned with god?
probably more so...
i'd much prefer a limited god
that acquires everyone,
than a omni- voyeur god that
is selected in his interests
to a specific people... a broken argument...

well... wait a minute: the hebrews do not
account the deity with omni- prefixes...
an omni- voyeur god has selected his
interest for christians -
such the unlimited graces -
what sort of intervetion is necessary?
this argument sounded so much better
when quantity / quality was employed
as the rigid structure a man would subscribe to
then listing the necessities of playing
squash: a rubber ball, a racket,
cubic tickling cubic rectangle court...

now imagine anyone being able
to reconcile having written something
akin to this,
with a career in published writing -
with editing...
2 weeks worth of revision
to get this "just right"...
it's a mess...
it was always going to be a mess...
that's why i like "petting" cats...
unlike dogs... they don't require a leash
and any added attention (pending)...
they're not tarantulas requiring
specific aquariums flodding them with
however much light they require...
a cat is just a cat...
able to satiate himself to his own
desires...
i can pet him but i can also ignore him...
unless its a specific case of a male
maine coon behaving like a clingy
bloodhound...
fucking castrato choir boy...
more nicknames than letters in his name!