It's quite miserably entertaining to acknowledge the misfortune of being one self. It allows you to point your finger and utter the almighty "i told you so mother fucker.....i told you so....". And rest at peace..the mirror won't answer back. I guess each death that sort of brings your number closer to its being called by the grim reaper makes you think ..of the unthinkable....of LIFE.... Die at the right time says Yalom and I add....Live at all times... How is it possible to fear of what you will never encounter while you are alive... and simultaneously be afraid of what accompanies you throughout your breathing times? Isn't it miserable to be afraid of death and life at the same time.?.. those who claim to seek death as a way out-how do they know? how do those fuckers know what they will happen once they become dearly departed? Is it a personal Lois and Clarke syndrome of exploration? How can you explore when you are dead? Have you explored while alive? Have you answered to the calls to the deity inside you? Have you read the scriptures on the inside of your eyelids? Did you translate the incoherent voices of your subconscious and have you removed the filter between your rational and your vocal chords? Isn't it entertaining, to examine the web that is you.....and for the very first time realize its vastness? For the very first time get lost knowingly in the intertwining elements of the constitution of the creation that is reading these lines at this very moment? And just about now, have you realized what a miserable process you've been so far.?... and furthermore what a miserable concept you are thriving to become? Death has happened and will not happen again...nobody dies twice... what one needs to fear is the resurrection... will you resurrect to live or will you resurrect to have another apparent death again, and again, and again and again.....the important thing is to maintain a good mental credit...and be able to pay throughout your decimation of your rational....otherwise... the switch will flip....and the debt will mount and then....you will never be able to die and escape your death....
Arise, in thought and spirit,
reach beyond and fetch the life you so seek,
amaze yourself and oblige your existence.
Arise my brother, forget the prison, forget the guard,
name the game, and pity the fact
endulge in silence and scream your lungs
forever tatoo the arm...
Neglect what needs the love,
face off and live your past,
female juices and sperm of man
arise my sister and kill your heart.
I have engaged upon this journey in order to fulfill my need for atonement. I need to apologize for being so apologetic. Restart- restart. I need not apologize for nothing. Redemption is not in my perceptive vocabulary. Sense and sensibility has been the governing force behind my fortune (or misfortune). Strange how i never came to liquify this fortune. Oxymoron is what i am. Oxy as in acidic, and moron as in Moron. An acidic moron miniature of epic proportions. Atonement for what, crime or otherwise? No need, no will. Emphatic thrusts and counterthrusts. Waves of sorrys and tsunamis of bullshit. It's so distinct in all this mess. What I need is what I am. What I want is what I will never be. And I am what I've always needed but never wanted. Locked up- brain damage.
The numbness is not as comfortable as Floyd assumed. You've been warned. The numbness is unique in its ability to remove any sound from your sight, any sight from your hearing or any thought from your limbs. The numbness hires and fires perceptions at will. It allows "little escapes" into feelings- but you always have to report right back in. I love my numbness- i guess that's a feeling. It allows for my esoteric misconception of instances not to escape into the open and ridicule my already ridiculous inexistence. It was formed a womb where the amniotic fluid is mostly formalin which preserves tissue or cells thoughts by reversibly cross-linking primary amino groups primal fears in proteins with other nearby nitrogen atoms in protein or DNA grey matter through a -CH2- linkage. Enough with Wikipedia science though. Bottom line is that there is no chance for me to have a coherent thought that would lead to legible piece of writing. Love it. Have a nice day.
I choose not to make any choices lately. I am a solemn repetitive force. Standing tall and bearing it all under my fake fur garments. I never make any sense and I have no stories to tell. I am what you wouldn't call normal. I am a discrepancy from everyday and every night mediocrity. An idiotic version of a genius - Unbeaten and unparalleled. I am slower than a snail and faster than a road-runner. Narcissistic appreciation of my absentee personality. The grandest of Buddhas and the tiniest of Jesuses. A predicament unmatched. Empty gaze through flaming eyes. Spread wings and flights into the deepest crevasses of infernal mist.
I guess non-choices are choices too, perpetuated by the yellow strip running down my back. Emphatically hermaphroditic fear factor entrepreneurship. It's beyond fear of the dark and it precedes fear of the light. A sustainable ecosystemic reef of fears burdening my soul with carved uselessness and randomicity of hardly spotted, fly-by pleasures. "What have I become" has no application within my universe. I've always been what I've recently discovered that I am and up until now falsely thought I've become. Fascinating, ain't it? Hard-boiled eggs bumping heads with snail shells. Is it all down to the calcium content after all? Loser take it all.
Earth and water, mud. Mud and fire, pottery. Water in pottery on fire- boiled eggs. What the f-word man? Basic deconstruction of one's construction down to the barebones identifies the humility of the notarized circulars issued by the man herself. Who has time to deconstruct and sort - who has time to identify and formulate the findings into the helix a spliced DNA strand? I believe this to be the case with me, or even the suitcase with me. I've become a pro-deconstructor. I am the de-constructed showcase of my work. I know me down to my toe nail. I identify every fear, every want, all lust, all hate and none of the love. I am, what you call, a specialist. Available for hire 24/7.
Don’t get me wrong reader…. actually don’t get me at all. I am not to be handled, especially with care. I ain’t fragile and yet I break into a million pieces by the sheer presence of a loving breath. I would have liked to be able to love this brave breath back… but… . Let it be friend, let it be. A solemn repetitive force, of avoiding all basic human interaction. A finely tuned systemic machine of dysfunctionality, lubricating the cornerstone of the philosophy of evermore – I consume therefore …you fill in the blanks. A machine so well trained and educated that it believes it’s free. You are as free as your shackles allow you.
Abundant resources sustaining a style that’s been promoted to life. Maitre d’ vie, those who are about to be stylized salute you. Laugh and cry, with the right attire and the right make-up. Anyone ever had the left attire and the left make-up? Wow, how deep. I amaze myself sometimes with the deepness of my thoughts. Corks of the world fear. Thus spoke malakustra. Have a nice day!
I have not written anything in a while. I haven't thought of anything worth thinking about in more than a while. And...i have not met anyone worth meeting in ages. Good old friends, met years ago. That's it.
These are funny times- not in the sense of "making you laugh"- just funny. These are times never anticipated, with no defense mechanisms set-up, with no shelter provided. These are times where one stands naked before the napalm effect of post-meta-modernism. These are the times of the me, of the big, of the fictional reality of 1984 and of a voiced-over Metropolis. People short-circuiting left and right - myself included. People going crazy (i.e. departing from what is considered the norm as decided by the herds of know-it-all imbeciles)and women begging men they loathe to worship their aging asses- so that they can have their five minutes of heaven. Five minutes of a mental orgasmic rectificcation - to make up for a lifetime of frustration. Five minutes- "because they deserve it". Damn bitches.
People going crazy over mean motherfuckers ruling the intramatrix of this inescapable mosaic of barbed wire and landmines, posting their whereabouts on twiter and facebook. Worshiped by the "independent", "self-sufficient" women of our "dreams". Forming posses with the the male version of the previously described women and taking over the stage they inherited from their neandertal ancestry. The men and women of our time. The respected ones. The trend setters. What a bunch of horseshit. These people are real. They exist. They have manifestos (Cosmopolitan, Ok, Hello and more) and they have a communications network that supplies the mental plankton they need to grow. Their grey matter has been evolutionised into a rainbow-like magma of chewed and digested ways of thinking. Somehow these people beleive in their originality, in their uniquenes, in their freedom of thought. Yea, and i look like Rodolfo Valentino.. :) . Fucking clones of a prototype gone wrong- of a prototype that has been executed by its clones. Strong bonds of so called friendship propagate the art of cloning- masterfully directed by a motionless and yet restless and hyperactive endity of inexistence. The sublimity of this pettiness' is phenomenally profound and yet so inconspicuous- it gets in through the skin pores, penetrates the veins and boards upon the blood cells for a free ride to the welcoming mind. It sets up a control center and directs the host.
I wish i was an infected host. A part of something. A trash bag of meaningful and important nothings. I wish upon a lot of things but it ain't christmas and santa clause has been stampeded in to a bloody pulp by the Rudolf the Red-nose Raindeer and his posse.
Have you breathed the poisonous air and lived to tell?
Is this lament for the joy you feel as sublime as your funeral?
I have never seized to hope for my total failure. I have neglected the omens and the prophecies of my future - forseeing a tormented past - only to meet up with them again in my parallel inexistence. What lies beneath is stepped and stomped upon. What lies above chokes on the warm rising farts of all. What is left is what lies ahead, behind, to the left and to the right....to each and every increment of a 360 degree angle...ahhhh the choices...
The choices are there not to be chosen. The chosen shall no longer be a choice but rather an anhilator of those not chosen and the insanity of sane thought shall perpetuate into crevasses of rational malpractices of "chosen" wellbeing. The more complexity added to this equation, the simpler it becomes. The calculated randomness of unequal but yet identical parameters identifies the simplicity of the prementioned complexity. I have figured out this perfectly illegible process of immobility and dementia. I have mastered this process. I am the master puppeteer....handling each and every puppet with unparalleled skill...with love and tenderness making my puppeteer so proud of me as i react to each pull of the string with the utmost grace and I dance like the bear of the gypsy man. Like the dog in front of the grammophone- listening to his masters voice.
What is the prophecy of your past? Who in the future will forsee how you shall have lived in the past? Is there an oracle for us all or is this another war to be -- with the Freuds and the Jungs and the Nietzhes and the Hesses of the future? Is this futuristic archeology a thing to look forward to or, is "what is" irrelevant to "what was" and to "what will be"? What is the prophecy of your past? Have you lived up to the prophecy? Were you graced with the presence of your messiah? Did you shoot him -crucifixion is so barbaric-? Man have you stood tall only to realise you are nothing more than a fucking midget? Have you bowed before the trash of your time? - that cancerous "chosen" wellbeing you so fiercely seeked? What is your presence and what evolved it? Are you happy with the present past of your future?
Don't smirk. I make perfect sense...what is the prophecy of your past?
Are you at peace with the war inside? Are you at war with the peace out there? Who has installed this non bootable operating system inside you? Has it crashed yet? Is you me? Me is you...and the butterfly lies dead. There is no exotic malfunction here. This ain't no "technological breakdown" nor is it "the road to hell". Here is the now but simoultaneously is the past and at the same time the future. You will always be "here" no matter where you are. You can never be there. Your present consist of a 100% "heres". Your past and future can be a tour of "theres". Do you get it brother? I get it...then you is me...and me is you...and alone we shall proceed in groups of individuals, in companies of loners.
Have you breathed the poisonous air and lived to tell? No you haven't brother. You tell, to think you live. There is no need to tell if you really live. Is it a matter of poison or air? It could be an antimatter of elixir and solid. But none of this makes sense to the senseless mind of an absentee. I loathe this healing process cause none is sick. What's to heal? The healthy sickness of a galloping cripple? Are you sure you wanna fuck with that? Can you mantain speed and aproach the unatainable only to realise you are going too fast for it? Brother, this is a discrace for human thought. Wasting your time, making no sense. Breathe freely, you shall die...one day.
Is this lament for the joy you feel as sublime as your funeral? My funeral, the greatest spectacle of all time. Wild dogs, hyennas and vultures all paying respect to a decent member of society who will be dearly missed by all those their lives have been touched by his wonderfull aura as a living corpse. Enjoy the feast my friends...i have plenty to offer....unless i decide to go on a diet...Then you will be pretty much fucked. Respect.
Dear god, thank you for this oportunity to kneel before you in humility and offer you my regards. It's been nice knowing you ...but now i am sure...we'll go our separate ways...You never beleived in me but i beleived in you- for a while at least. From where i stand, you owe me some beleif dude...See you in Hell.
Και φτάσαμε εδώ που φτάσαμε. Trouble in Paradise. Οι "δημοκρατικές διαδικασίες" του καλοκαιριού έγιναν αποτυχημένη διακυβέρνηση. Τις πταίει? Οι μεν κατηγορούν τους δε, οι δε ντρέπονται για τους μεν και so fuckin forth.
Τι έγιναν τα diner-ακια με τους τταββάες στα Λεύκαρα?
Τι έγιναν οι συνάξεις για ψαρομεζέδες στην Πάφο μετά των εκλεκτών μπανανοκαλιεργητών?
Τι έγινε ο μουστακαλλής, παρολίγο κατάδικος, και εσχάτως αθωοθής?
Τι έγινε ο Γιώργος ο Πονηρός?
Οι Λοϊζίδιες? Οι Σάντιες? Οι Βάκηδες?
Η σπέυσασα να υποστηρίξει τον Κουτσοκούμνη\, Πιτσιλιά?
Ο πάΠουτσος και το γιούϊν του ο Κωστάκης?
O ΑΕΚΤΖΗΣ (Λάρνακας) μουχτάρης των Λατσιών?
Τι είναι αυτό που σας έταξαν, και απότυχαν να σας το παραδώσουν με αποτέλεσμα το μένος σας?
Της Πιτσιλιάς ετάξαν της ότι εννα μείνει 1ην κατηγορίαν...Εγελάσαν της προφανώς και γι'αυτό εξηγείται η "αναίδεια" της να ζητήσει να μην ισχύσει διαβάθμιση φέτος.
Του Ερμή επίσης....και μόλις πήγε να κλωνιστεί λίγο αυτή η σιγουριά παραμονής....εμίλησεν και ελάλησεν ο Φανιέρος...και όλοι βαρούσαν παλλουκοπρόσοχα.
Την Σαλαμίναν? Επέψαν την 2η κατηγορία πριν να ξεκινήσει το πρωτάθλημα.
Ο Άρης? Ναι μεν αλλά...αλλά ας πάει. 2/3...έμεινεν ο τρίτος...Επλέρωσεν την νύφη η Πιτσιλιά...ας όψεται.
Έμεινεν μας η ΑΕΛ και η Ομόνοια. Τον Απόλλωνα εβολέψαν τον και υποστήριξεν τους...και η Κυρία, από ότι φάνηκε εκ των υστέρων, ήταν στο κρεβάτι μαζί τους από την Αρχή.
Και ξεκίνησε το πρωτάθλημα με τις δύο να φωνάζουν για τις διαδικασίες του καλοκαιριού και να αντιμετωπίζουν το χλευασμό τον υπολοίπων. "Να σεβαστείτε κύριοι τις δημοκρατικές διαδικασίες" τους έλεγαν.
Και κυλούσαν όλα ομαλά στο πρωτάθλημα της νήσου των αγίων.....στο,διαχρονικά, πιο καθαρό πρωτάθλημα του σύμπαντος.
Ζήτησε το ΑΠΟΕΛ ξένους γιατί "κουντούσαν" την Ομόνοια, ήρθαν οι ξένοι.
Χάνει 2 παίχνίδια το ΑΠΟΕΛ με ξένους...και μας προέκυψε το Χατζηλιασής Παπαγαλία Show. Είπαμε να αποπροσανατολίσουμε τους πορτοκαλλί που φώναζαν για τα ευρώ του Champion's League που αντί να επενδυθούν σε παίκτες, εμπήκαν μες τα πιθάρκα....αλλά σάμπως τζαι επαράκαμεν το τσας ο Πανίκκος "χείριζομαι τη γλώσσα με λιτότητα χωρίς φανφάρες και άσκοπους επιθετικούς προσδιορισμούς" Χατζηλιασής? Ρωτώ τώρα εγώ.
Άλλη σας έδειξε...και άλλη σας έμπηξε? Αυτή που σας έταξε ήταν μεγάλη? Αυτή που σας έμπηξε? Μεγαλύτερη? Τι σας έταξε ρε κουμπάρε?
Φυσικά, από ότι φαίνεται, κάτι έταξε τζαι του Τόνυ του Δικηγόρου (τζίνου που τα προσωπικά δεδομένα..που ήταν να κινήσει αγωγή του Κουτσοκούμνη....αλλά χαρίζει του την). Πριν λλίον τζαιρό εφώναζεν ο Φρίξος....προφανώς κάτι του έταξε τζαι τζείνου...By the way επήεν δικαστική ο Φρίξος για τις δηλώσεις του? Αν δεν επήεν, επιστραφήκαν οι λίρες πίσω σε τζείνους που επήαν πριν τες δηλώσεις του? Όλες οι μ.Φ. (μετά φρίξον) δηλώσεις είναι ok? Ενώ οι π.Φ. not ok?
Η Πέγεια πάει καλά? Ο σύνδεσμος της UEFA στην Κύπρο που έστειλε ενοχοποιητικά στοιχεία για τα ματς της Ομόνοιας και του Απόλλωνα ποιός είναι? Η Απόφαση για το ντόπινγκ της Πέγειας? Η απόφαση "χαϊδεμα" της Δικαστικής για το ΑΠΟΕΛ? Εν για χάρην της Ομόνοιας τζαι τζείνη? Ο Φούλλης τι λέει για όλα αυτά? Έχασε το παιχνίδι από τον "χτίστην"? Τον "χτίστην" που το καλοκαίρι δεν κατάφερε καν να πείσει τον υποψήφιο , άλλης ομάδας, που υποστήριζε να κατέλθει στις εκλογές της άσπιλης ομοσπονδίας.
Τελίκα αυτός ο "χτίστης" έχει ποολληηηηηηηηηηηηήνν δύναμη, από ότι φαίνεται...
Και έτσι σκοτώνουνται μεταξύ τους...Civil war....
Περαστικά σας και εις ανώτερα....
