my 20s really passed me by...
i don't even know where they went...
it's not i played with hallucinogenic drugs,
did the whole Hofmann...
drug-enhanced marijuana...
from some Vietnamese slaves grown
with UV lighting in an english suburban
castle...
no, not the Amsterdam crop...
the giggles the opiate (with the right kind
of music) "side-effects"...
they called it psychosis,
that stabilißed itself into a "schizophrenia"...
bilingualism aided their "diaGnosis"...
i'm cool... i once said after finishing
my chemistry degree:
i don't want to be an experimental rat
in a maze... i ended up being:
königratte von der matze!
i once had a second health
evaluation... well d'uh: the state pays for my
antics... i'm legally bound to not work
more than 24 hours in a week...
oddly enough... i've never been admitted
to the nut-house...
i just ended up running free
in society, popping up at odd occassions...
notably in Athens...
with a bottle of absinthe sitting among
the bums... choking with laughter
with my left hand covering my eyes,
my right hand picking up a glass of
absinthe mull: water + carmel sugar...
drinking, putting the glass down...
then extending my right hand and extending
my index finger, pointing at something...
that's about right...
over 10 years of psychosis...
but how, oh how my knowledge
of language became...
exponential...
somehow, with no somewhere...
the best trip i could ever wish for...
no hallucinogenics could compete...
somehow settling on the hidden properties
of alcohol...
to spew truth uninhibited...
itchy words... esp. for the political right
spectrum: who use psychiatric terms so...
liberally... poetically...
metaphors galore the right is...
i always hated this attitude to rely on
cheap metaphors borrowed from psychiatry...
why tease the psychosis diagnosis
and simply reference it in the colloquial,
i.e. mad? stupid?
the osmosis of soul... that's psychosis...
the "non-existent particle" awakes itself from
sleep... and when it does:
you stop dreaming... that's the first "symptom"
of you becoming psychotic...
you stop dreaming...
yes, i might have a dream... that i remember...
once in... a year...
but otherwise? i don't dream:
i sleep on the K.O. of three ciders,
500ml of whiskey, 25mg of amitriptyline and
250g - 500g of naproxen...
the soul just (psyche) is prodded...
i don't remember the last time i
"thought through" what i write...
enough cider and whiskey in me and i become
an automaton...
my mind is silent...
i remember the days when i used to have
a voice in my head... a clarity narrative
with complex observations all through the day...
and dreams at night...
now?
it's like that intro to combichrist's song:
sent here to destroy...
...happiness is the silent mind...
i am clearly dancing on the edges of the void:
i'm pretty sure i was once equipped
with that other mouth that spews bullshit
and distorts: the ego...
now?
now equilibrated within:
id et nihil
sitting in a tree: id points at hic
nihil points at hoc...
and since i'm bilingual - fervently entrenched...
my "schizophrenia"?
has simply become a quadratic equation...
as i said to a psychiatrist...
oh i love psychiatrists...
you get that hamster wheel going
you're going to have a lovely day...
conversations about books...
that was lovely... one was so impressed
that i've heard of r. d. laing...
she decided to bring a university student
with her for one of our sessions
so the university student could get comfortable
with the sort of people "we" are...
dutiful student: took notes!
i told her about kierkegaard...
i didn't tell her i was halfway through Kant...
plus the benefits...
you get to see the sort of fear associated
with madness... by Norman & Co...
it's a pleasure... when you can
manage to contain a soul to a body
without having the soul invested in a god...
like most psychotic individuals do...
the soul passes through the body into
the realm of the unfathomable...
crushing the body with either asylum or:
shot on the spot for grievous bodily assault
of "the other"...
abusing authentic medical terms by
right leaning politicos... i never liked it,
i never will...
would i survive a KGB sleep-deprivation
interrogation? i once tickled 40 hours of insomnia...
i could have done more -
but there's no real achievement award
for staying up 2 days and 2 nights straight...
so back to my usual cocktail:
3 ciders, 500ml whiskey, 25mg of amitriptyline,
250g - 500g of naproxen...
K.O., but it wouldn't be a K.O. without music...
as any man is...
you can really have a success relationship,
long-term... if you start early...
early 20s... after the mid-20s? eh...
maybe... if you have a child at the age of 23...
in Poland in the 1980s a woman aged 25
with her first child was considered a granny...
basically a child to compliment the remaining
2 years of your brain development being
finished come age 25...
30? forget it...
i'm 33... i'm a creature of habit... long years
of being a bachelor have grown on me,
i can't just... discard my habits...
habits are the ultimate comfort...
no leather armchair will replace it...
i sometimes prefer to sleep on a hard wooden
floor than a comfortable mattress...
with folded arm and my bicep as a pillow...
if you really want a long term relationship...
habits... you have to gravitate toward sharing:
habits... showering frequently...
tidiness... good food... etc.,
working the jewish week - 6 days...
saturdays spent doing housework...
or gardening...
if... in my 20s i did: X...
i would be at a shared point with partner
who also did X... together we'd be XX,
then i'd do the XY thing of...
fuck... i don't know...
collect vinyls?! like i'm doing now?
oh i wouldn't be writing...
but that's only hypothetical...
i don't even know how to comment on
the incel situation: i am and i am not a polymath...
a sporadic polyglot - sure...
chemistry, history, music, poetry,
essays, drinking,
walking into forests at night,
psychiatry, philosophy,
cooking, oh god, cooking,
cricket,
rugby, squash,
tennis,
edward hopper...
ewelyn waugh, samuel beckett,
james joyce, joseph roth,
Perronneau's
madame de sorquainville (smile)
vs. da vinci's mona lisa (personally? the former)...
Bernini's ecstasy of st. teresa proving
that every woman is beautiful when she closes
her eyes and experiences an orgasm...
Albrecht Dürer vs. Gustave Doré (that's tight)...
jerking of too Bronzino's cupid, venus, folly & time...
that titilaiting tongue of cupid...
but my fav.?
Michelangelo's David...
or... Riemenschneider's Adam?
it's not even a question...
the former's head is out of proportion
to the body... it's too big!
Milan Kundera - and Bulgakov -
that's what bound me and Ilona -
then again: a Russian girl and a Polack boy
would never happen...
the superiority complex in her -
the pride complex in me...
but even then:
i was 21... she was... 19... or 18...
again: habits become unshakeable comforts...
i'm not deluded in that once you turn 30...
you're not going to magically become:
"compatible"...
it's this goddamn music...
top albums i tend to fall asleep with?
1. christopher young - hellbound: hellraiser II
2. dead can dance - into the labyrinth
3. wojciech kilar - bram stoker's dracula
4. the xx - debut
5. ola gjeilo - northern lights
6. peter gabriel - passion
7. john debney - the passion of the christ
8. godspeed you! black emperor F# A# ∞
9. the klinik - melting core + sabotage
10. cocosuma - pointing excitedly to the sky
11. mike oldfield - tubular bells
12. boards of canada - trans canada highway
13. " " " - geogaddi
14. hammock - kenotic
15. massive attack - mezzanine
16. the cure - disintegration
17. susumu yokota - grinning cat
18. demdike stare - tryptych

i can't break my habits, i could never have:
an only child scenario...
and as an only child? you have to learn
the concept of: one's own company...
bordering on solipsism - or at least teasing
solipsism for its placebo effect...
not the sort of solipsism associated with autism:
i mean tickling solipsism -
obviously you can spring back into action,
when you can give a stranger
your full attention... to the point where
you have a beer on a park bench,
then you take her home...
play her come miles davis... talk...
a few more beers...
then fuck her in the garden...
then walk her home...
suddenly coping mechanisms come into
play... for example?
making a moroccan stew...
but also making your own moroccan khobz...
it's not that hard...
plus the scent of yeast?
oh my god... don't get me started!
sure, sure, the english authorities can diagnose me
as a psychotic who settled into a schizoid vector:
king crimson - 21st century schizoid man
(good song)...
bilingual (on a side-note, a p.s.) -
didn't commit a crime, was never admitted
to a psychiatric hospital... wasn't even sectioned!
my my... bewildering, isn't it?!
otherwise? i must be a grand fucking actor...
i should win an oscar for playing the most
convincing madman in England!
sure: the odd auditory hallucination...
suggested reading material?
julian jaynes: the origin of consciousness
in the breakdown of the bicameral mind...
decent book...
point being?
people hallucinate visually in the safety of being
asleep: they dream... well... hallucinate...
in the lab. of the unconscious: asleep... nothing "weird" here...
not to mention all those hippies...
experimenting with mushrooms etc.,
nothing "weird" here either...
the fun part of the psychosis is the auditory hallucinations...
not many can master them...
since... what you can see... you will not exactly
fear - guerilla warfare of the Vietcong...
compared with... rows of easy-targets akin to
the Napoleonic wars...
unseen enemy... eh? eh?! you need the right sort
of stomach and the right sort of diet to...
well... if you've never experienced auditory hallucinations?
no drug i know of promises you
auditory hallucinations... visuals... sure sure...
auditory? not one... that i know of...
well.. there you go... a nice end of a week...
a week spent redecorating the kitchen, the bathroom -
and my bedroom.

bravo ty - bravo ja.