To have the nowzen, to know that I shall forget about even thatone in one picosecond, and hold back the appetite.... for what may be.
As ....gosh they even have a yoctosecond, well 'ows about that then....
Hmmmm... the South American
(at last a real one, who knows their booktoo.....
" Ferkright.... My Gabrielllle... you're right One Hundred Years [still his 'magnum opus' to quote their so bland Wikipedia] was for the nonces of the precious lot of the so called London cultural elite, and their Time Out that as you say started it all, and pretended to care about them, with their 'whoop whoop One Hundred..... and me as one of em' a pukka effnix, we couldn't give a ferk.... we just wanted to live in the 'now' .....ideally having as much real philosophical fun as fukky-fukky Florentino....
and yes that's what widows are for.....
That Nazarin
Remedied him
IN her death scream - Munchy moment
As Flozzers fine mum knew....
needed an outlet...
Never mind beginning the 'journey' not one of them dare to go on:
ferkin' his way back to forgetting....her....for a while anyway"
Righty ho...... not, 'end' just 'stop'
And catch up.
And what a magnificent bridging operation, this time more for my needs....
Which are merely to have as many yoctosex as one can as they always come no matter what...
So lets unobscure a range of this and that
bit by bit
(all that really matters is that onetoo, was saved even if i haven't had the spare sex for too long to even go back and live in every smallest lacuna... of when it was for sure, the beginning of the most glorious decade never even dreamed up....
https://www.sublime2020.com/ soon to get baCK TGO...)
so perfectly summed up in that moment
When you could define precisely what was lost,
And then... dunno about you well i do as absolutely everyone lives in a diffo mode, to not knowing anything except there's no way the yoctos can line up any more sublimier, so stupidly often, it's officially retarded to know they cannot be beaten.
When they always are....
Anyway as i do actually waste my time with the so called 'intellectuals' John Gray needs his Straw Dog rammed up his ...nose as even an elephant stuck up where the sun don't shine wouldn't stop his anti-enlightenment ....gossip....so as to get him moaning on even more, as 'elder statesman philosopher of our so so turbulent times' 'podcasts' (and officially from a suberb 22 year old Oxford edder - " hahhh i bet she went to the posh one and took pity on you at the cheap seats up the road" ..... they only educate themselves, as i suspect, via the podders.... which is a more scary notion than Palin and Trump had babies....
as all the dogcasts have a very very incurable form of rabies)
And well-into-enlightened times by 87 almost EVERYone knew that if you dress in shoulder pads and still wear all that bunny-tested makeup, your a real silly billy
and the boiled bunny
was a magnificent allegory
or summit like that, in wonderful story
to clearly show that themtoo
(oops as they knewthen, wetoo...)
can be part of the age old problem...
who gets stuck with the dull cookin'
But well before that became a performative, dilletantine
whine of those who have no reason to even exist
never mind be a jolly good Florrentinoist
Just to pass the time.....
Anyway i so near got sucked into that anniversaryism
When i know better, sorry even her a fake, to have failed to stay friends with him
Her perfect collaborater,
without whom we would have hardly herd of her.
Indeed in fact must be symbolic of the most narcissistic self pitying sour puss
heartless, bridgeless, century, in history.
Anyway back to the actual 'moment'.
Which one knows little of as i certainly pay no attention whatoever
as not one of them is even a bit clever
so as to think, metoo, i better watch that movie
(next bit) as me also may succumb to that particular human bit
of cant and vanity that almost always evades non existent latterday dignity.
Infact it surely must have been
South American man stood in the corner: "what a godforsaken Queen
all his silly fancy pants, and social climbing fag sticks
never mind that hair, symbolising, everything
we are against, even if the so called intellectual with his stupid frocks
and ostrich feathers - likely stolen off some Oxford Deb,
he couldn't let go and treat as his true equal, even stoned in bed,
so satirised everything he never even could tolerate
"ALL of them i only deep down HATE
But due my not quite secure, immo status,
i gotta pretend to be all chummy
charmy one of the boys.... flip we don't have boys like that back in
mammy's home state, separates the men from the boys,
and as for that jumped up arrogant lil' Liverpudlian....
Back home we had a remedy,
them naughty FARCs would just pull the grenade pin and run
But lets see.... if i can turn my private-schoolboy-imposter-and-classclimber,
one hundred percent authentic, hate
turn the Eton school railings he could only ever peer above,
nor ever get through that hollowed gate
Into some art that actually works.....
ugghhhh... this is gettin' very dull [ten minutes in]...
As 'as the whole darn thing up til now...
what the heck someone's gotta actually DEFINE the new enlightenment
...oooh i think i just did.... that was fun.... all the rest can stay in the smelly Puddles basement......
though they'll of course never quite accept me as a higher level
king of it all, no drug habit, no scandal.... three nice kids, and as a kid lived through what they could only dream about
and stick in silly decadent Nottin' Ill boy,
pretend revolutionary, nothing..... "
Righty ho ... there now needs to be. Moment number two.
