waiting for the 6 week haitus - not long, god, not long -
i'll take a break from... less english as a language,
and more: the socio-political turd floating above
it like some h. p. lovecraft spaghetti monster
gimp suit filled with midgets cracking jokes
getting high off the helium - something to scare
the atheists...
you can be an anglophile but...
have to retire... but the mind on a break... less the body...
you just have to get away from the imploded
british empire - it starts nagging you -
you can't keep up with all the snippets of what
needs to be diluted, what cannot be kept,
what has to be recycled, what needs to be changed...
love the language - but the politico tick-tock
tick-tock... unnerving...
sunday, sunday... and i'll be off to the feral lands
south of Warsaw... i'll sample some of the greatest
homogeneous eco-centers in europe -
not that i find ethnical homogeneity a breath of
fresh air... but the mind in england is lodged
into a clone harvest...
i don't mind the africans living left of me...
i don't mind the jewish woman who recently
converted to islam to my right...
i don't mind... what i do mind is the pseudo-english
fixation of anti-racism...
those are a bothersome few...
custard for brains... and tongues that less waggle
less trill but just drool out like molten fudge...
they're giving me claustrophobia...
inside my own 'ed! how is that?
even a schizophrenic would feel less claustrophobic
with his auditory hallucinations -
honestly... he'd probably prefer them...
to the sort of bollocks you hear, and can see...
when you see a correlation of the words to the moving
mouth, that's not eating asparagus...
i always have this saturation limit...
half a year... the english speaking world just
becomes too much to take seriously...
and when it becomes this world:
not to be taken seriously at all...
it has to buckle down and became intrusive...
everyone just needs to know how ridiculous
it has become...
reading the nag hammadi library...
st. thomas' gospel: the scot psychiatrist laing
noted this in the 60s...
jesus... really? a circumcised man said
something along the lines:
enter the kingdom of heaven if
you make the man female...
and the woman male... non-verbatim...
well of course a circumcised man would tell
you to spread the trans-sexual movement further...
why stop at the foreskin?
cut the whole sgt. pepper while you're at it!
only in a protestant country...
the catholics would simply scorn such
a venture... lucky for me...
i'm going for a haitus to a catholic country...
a break from these protestant clowns...
and they are...
visting my grandparents and aiming to read
2x 500+ page novels...
no tourism, well, barely...
a city of pensioners -
since every young person left...
once a hub for the metallurgy industry...
the English can have their Stonehenge
(3000BC genesis)...
i have an origin story too...
Krzemionki Opatowskie: a Neolithic and early Bronze Age
complex of flint mines for the extraction of
Upper Jurassic (Oxfordian) banded flints...
operations began 3900BC...
something of a history, i guess...
but i'm just going to escape this...
this... lechery, this glutonny, this caveat
of excesses - if only the sanity of 3rd world (" ")
concerns was to be found...
all is well: hush hush on the western front...
but when these concerns evolved
into borrowing from awry-language-pedantry?
when basic grammatical architecture
has to be changed...
to speak a Yoda-esque:
last comes first and first comes last?
i'm out... i'm seeing a language i cradled
from nothing, acquired, learned...
be subject to such... barbaric butchery that...
i'd die from a broken heart if i stayed longer...
and by its own, people!
god forbid english, had to endure the trials
of polish under russia / prussia and the austro-hungarians...
or hebrew under the 2000 year exile...
the people who speak their native now?
eh... english would be extinct...
if they wish to mutilate their language in so far
as to not recognise that...
this language does not invoke
the masculine / feminine split of nouns...
i.e. / e.g. a moon is a moon... not a księżyc (a he)
a sun is a sun... not a słońce (a she)...
you can rarely apply a sexual differentiation
to nouns in the english language...
a fork (widelec) is a he...
a spoon (łyżka) is a she!
almost all the trees are female...
with the exception of an oak tree: dąb (which is a he)...
and here they come...
thinking about "gender neutral pronouns"...
which you would...
given your starting point: gender neutral nouns!
ever think about the circus you could
have... when wondering about the sexuality
of a tree (a birch is a she, an oak is a he)
or a spoon v. a fork? wow! mind-blowing!
but it's a given in languages - inborn / inbred...
to suit the architecture of the language: the grammar...
but not in english...
the colours? red (czerwony), green (zielony)...
black (czarny) are all boys...
the fruits? well... a cherry (czeresznia) is a girl...
a watermelon (arbuz)? is a boy.
a pear (gruszka) is a girl...
but an orange (pomarańcza)? is a boy -
a bit of ambiguity with this word...
it's currently experiencing a debate about
gender neutrality - the suffix -a is debated
should it be pomarańcza or pomarańcz?
oh the pedantic quests for a shared "inconvenience"
of the the toong.
- and yes, i will miss the heterogeneity of ethnicites
surrounding London...
but what good is an ethnic heterogeneity...
if there's a homogeneity of minds...
a hive / clone brain fungus illness?
no good... not good at all...
when i come back and see my first african
skinned macaroon dipped in hot chocolate
i'll probably come out suntanned and with
cote d'ivory pearls for teeth...
fuck me... you'd think i was about to take a holiday
and visit Disneyland at some point on
the trip... back in the land where
superstitions can sometimes run rampant...
mingling with proverbs...
akin to? never put your shoes onto the table...
even if they are new...
you'll be asking for trouble...
how can something so mundane feel so good,
i'm just going to visit two old farts...
well... it feels... rejuvinating...
the 8 year old me who left is still waiting for me...
either i'm the ghost or he's the ghost...
i never know which...
such is the joy that today's dinner
came out... less planned...
a hissy-fit overcame when when i overcooked
the pasta... well... i didn't overcook it,
as i was waiting for "the people" to sit
at the table... it was perfectly al dente before
i scooped it into the cream sauce and then
added my neighbour's homegrown zucchini...
there was still a bite to it...
but... not to my liking...
so who the hell needs some elaborate
metaphysical schemes... when life so simple...
almost nods with approval at death signature's
being added to it, for completion's sake?
10pm - cleaning the wardrobe -
listening to some boon joovi...
a simple life has all the harmony to be promised
a death... rather than that complicated
life that deems death a thief...
my really worry always comes when
i scare myself thinking...
that by death, by death the waking into a dream
is materialized...
give me oblivion over passing with
Charon into any of my ridiculous dreams...
i'd rather be gulped by a yawn of eternity...
that have pass a minute in any of my visionary
macabres;
how such a continued thought surrounding
an impeding depature...
is so sweetly... freeing.