cyan sub contract
im sub language
me cyan. bless
me piss - coz
im a sigh kai tris
meeyamdisss
bless up lake
im sub language
me cyan. bless
me piss - coz
im a sigh kai tris
meeyamdisss
bless up lake
December 24, 2012
Happiness by Money?
Can it?
Yes.
Is it long lasting?
depends how fast you make the cash.
Think about this at Christmas as:
MINCE PIE DEATH
and other video game suggestions
Happiness: Show me the money
Money: I feel sad.
Oh
Yes.
Is it long lasting?
depends how fast you make the cash.
Think about this at Christmas as:
MINCE PIE DEATH
and other video game suggestions
Happiness: Show me the money
Money: I feel sad.
Oh
December 19, 2012
December 18, 2012
£MONOLOGUE (not kylie)
This five grand of mine...
I cant begin to explain but to say (an no-one talks like THAT): I've always had it. that's my big theory. It's always been about £5,000. Money. Think about it. Your perception of it. I think I have been lucky in that the course of my life has been quite fairly and immediately represented by my bank balance - but - regardless of what the figures say - I am surer than ever that I will never feel better or worse off.
funny old game.
and now I've written it down - it doesn't look like much. But it is. For me to have £5000 is a massive achievement. But I've always had it. relatively.
What I mean by all that is this:
You cover your costs. Know what I mean?
Not in a forward planning, pay the friday man sort of way - but in a kind of - 'the times that life is hard can mean loads of money or none - but if it's been hard - you know where you baseline is' - way.
yes?
I should just convince myself I need £50,000 - but then they might call me a gangster - and i've got kids to think about...
and Christ knows what would happen if anyone found out I'd been shagging the insurance lady, er, I mean the Friday Man.
Shit.
I cant begin to explain but to say (an no-one talks like THAT): I've always had it. that's my big theory. It's always been about £5,000. Money. Think about it. Your perception of it. I think I have been lucky in that the course of my life has been quite fairly and immediately represented by my bank balance - but - regardless of what the figures say - I am surer than ever that I will never feel better or worse off.
funny old game.
and now I've written it down - it doesn't look like much. But it is. For me to have £5000 is a massive achievement. But I've always had it. relatively.
What I mean by all that is this:
You cover your costs. Know what I mean?
Not in a forward planning, pay the friday man sort of way - but in a kind of - 'the times that life is hard can mean loads of money or none - but if it's been hard - you know where you baseline is' - way.
yes?
I should just convince myself I need £50,000 - but then they might call me a gangster - and i've got kids to think about...
and Christ knows what would happen if anyone found out I'd been shagging the insurance lady, er, I mean the Friday Man.
Shit.
The Chrome Pony
The Young American viewpoint was substantially lowered by the angle
of a low winter sun and the obviated need to hide from such stark glaring
fact. Belinda harkened to her lovers' hushing tones and stayed parrallel with
him in movement and conversation: there was no question of gun law restrictions
in the state of-
"Grimsby" she thought he'd said. The scooter slowed and he shouted something else less audible from behind his helmet. She had figured out she could just about read large print books on the b roads they had to stick to...
The mid-west, dust bowl, far from the Connecticut killings,
farmland. The buffallo still roam - and God that thing looks so sexy tucked into his pants
she might have thought in celluloid dreamings.
She conflated bits of news with whatever was her current pulp buzz of romance, chaps and corsets - she'd discovered the imagination recently and mainly because of the inordinate boredom of pillion riding at low speed. Then there were the mechanical breaks... (over heating stops).
Why had she married him? Not a question to ask.
Today, it's the Lamberetta owners' club and a stop off for cream teas in Sandown. They've been back to the Isle of Wight for the past 5 years now... Him polishing his chrome for weeks before and spending whole nights on ebay looking for 'a fuse'.There's a full day and nights' travel ahead. She's on page 39.
She dreamed about images of Americana regularly. To envisage a pair of 501's astride some 1950's Harley gave her - well, something. He didn't know. It was his just payback for ignoring her. And she
had developed her imagination to such a point that he was no more than prosthetic. The only person she had ever shared her fantasies with was Jenie. That was why they went back to the Isle of Wight every year. The men believed it was about some kind of cameraderie. But it wasn't. It was about Jenie and Debs.
Debs was American. From Connecticut. Previously of Brooklyn. To Jenie, Debs was the gatekeeper to all her fantasies. Exotic beyond Jenie's wildest dreams. She fired her imagination in a way that no man had ever been able to. Debs had no idea, thinking herself to be the most prosaic of 'little ladies' (she'd grown up in Louisianna before moving north) on a regular vacation with 'her Bob'. They'd moved there for the 'neighbourhood', Connecticut, that is, and had said as much to the reporters. Just a neighbours assessment. Local colour or scene setting in journalistic terms. What they do to justify their expenses when no news is happening... Debs was a teaching assistant and dinner lady - 'lunch lady' - she would correct Jenie as they talked....
The fact that Debs had always assumed 'Jenie' to be a name of french origin (and maybe that France was a state in European england - for such musings were not beneath her) had never been corrected by Jenie or Bob or any of their other scooter pals. Mods - you could assume. The humour of this situation was not lost however and as Debs grew more confident with each passing year, she would pronounce 'Jenie' with a growing swish of classic french accent. No-one who knew had the temerity to tell Debs that 'jenie' should have been Jennie - or even Jenny - but for an uncorrected mistake on the birth certificate as filled in, un-usually, by her father. Fortunately, only Jenie knew. She kept it to herself, so there was no growing concensus of hilarity to be avoided and besides, Jenie actually thought it made Debs seem even more exotic...
of a low winter sun and the obviated need to hide from such stark glaring
fact. Belinda harkened to her lovers' hushing tones and stayed parrallel with
him in movement and conversation: there was no question of gun law restrictions
in the state of-
"Grimsby" she thought he'd said. The scooter slowed and he shouted something else less audible from behind his helmet. She had figured out she could just about read large print books on the b roads they had to stick to...
The mid-west, dust bowl, far from the Connecticut killings,
farmland. The buffallo still roam - and God that thing looks so sexy tucked into his pants
she might have thought in celluloid dreamings.
She conflated bits of news with whatever was her current pulp buzz of romance, chaps and corsets - she'd discovered the imagination recently and mainly because of the inordinate boredom of pillion riding at low speed. Then there were the mechanical breaks... (over heating stops).
Why had she married him? Not a question to ask.
Today, it's the Lamberetta owners' club and a stop off for cream teas in Sandown. They've been back to the Isle of Wight for the past 5 years now... Him polishing his chrome for weeks before and spending whole nights on ebay looking for 'a fuse'.There's a full day and nights' travel ahead. She's on page 39.
She dreamed about images of Americana regularly. To envisage a pair of 501's astride some 1950's Harley gave her - well, something. He didn't know. It was his just payback for ignoring her. And she
had developed her imagination to such a point that he was no more than prosthetic. The only person she had ever shared her fantasies with was Jenie. That was why they went back to the Isle of Wight every year. The men believed it was about some kind of cameraderie. But it wasn't. It was about Jenie and Debs.
Debs was American. From Connecticut. Previously of Brooklyn. To Jenie, Debs was the gatekeeper to all her fantasies. Exotic beyond Jenie's wildest dreams. She fired her imagination in a way that no man had ever been able to. Debs had no idea, thinking herself to be the most prosaic of 'little ladies' (she'd grown up in Louisianna before moving north) on a regular vacation with 'her Bob'. They'd moved there for the 'neighbourhood', Connecticut, that is, and had said as much to the reporters. Just a neighbours assessment. Local colour or scene setting in journalistic terms. What they do to justify their expenses when no news is happening... Debs was a teaching assistant and dinner lady - 'lunch lady' - she would correct Jenie as they talked....
The fact that Debs had always assumed 'Jenie' to be a name of french origin (and maybe that France was a state in European england - for such musings were not beneath her) had never been corrected by Jenie or Bob or any of their other scooter pals. Mods - you could assume. The humour of this situation was not lost however and as Debs grew more confident with each passing year, she would pronounce 'Jenie' with a growing swish of classic french accent. No-one who knew had the temerity to tell Debs that 'jenie' should have been Jennie - or even Jenny - but for an uncorrected mistake on the birth certificate as filled in, un-usually, by her father. Fortunately, only Jenie knew. She kept it to herself, so there was no growing concensus of hilarity to be avoided and besides, Jenie actually thought it made Debs seem even more exotic...
incantate
The secrets are in language
They haven't got a tune
There's something in the rhythm..
There's someone in the room
They haven't got a tune
There's something in the rhythm..
There's someone in the room
Zambian Roses
Zambian roses
Who wants a Zambian Rose?
When they can have some privet and holly?
Or a nice sprig of Hazel..
Catkins from blighty
And an Alder Carr wreath with dogwood and ivy..
Who needs a zambian rose from Tesco fresh off
The freight plane and £4.99?
About 39 million housewives on 1st 2nd and 3rd marriages...
And they're happy.
Whatever happened to 'hard to get'
and homegrown?
Is it: 'nappies'?
Who wants a Zambian Rose?
When they can have some privet and holly?
Or a nice sprig of Hazel..
Catkins from blighty
And an Alder Carr wreath with dogwood and ivy..
Who needs a zambian rose from Tesco fresh off
The freight plane and £4.99?
About 39 million housewives on 1st 2nd and 3rd marriages...
And they're happy.
Whatever happened to 'hard to get'
and homegrown?
Is it: 'nappies'?
December 09, 2012
me bin, me din. (love to the boy)
do not throw me
in the bin
do not throw me
gunger din
read private eye in stead
maupin army
gunger
rife
do not throw me
I am trying to make you laugh because I love you
remember that
and that I wasnt teasing for the last two years at least
parenting is done alone
no advice no 'phone
alone alone alone FATHERRRRRR!
alew ew ew ew ewn
fatherrrrrrrrrr
gnugh!
meh
ew
HUN!
x
JOB DONE!
in the bin
do not throw me
gunger din
read private eye in stead
maupin army
gunger
rife
do not throw me
I am trying to make you laugh because I love you
remember that
and that I wasnt teasing for the last two years at least
parenting is done alone
no advice no 'phone
alone alone alone FATHERRRRRR!
alew ew ew ew ewn
fatherrrrrrrrrr
gnugh!
meh
ew
HUN!
x
JOB DONE!
flooked up
its helpful to noone and dignifies not
if dignification is covered in snot
is it?
no. der
i cant help it if you keep shouting at me can you?
who do i answer? not us. neither them nor we.
mother
der
by shire, it's black peaks, are, whilst foreboding
Fucking ugly.
and dont give me your peaks - or YOUR FUCKING TROFFS
whats wrong with people? sometimes... king hell.
Three peaks and Fu King Troff ta
and over easy on the egg for young.. (breaks off)
"egg for young who?"
yep. three of 'em...
fancy a dip sexy?
end of men u
if dignification is covered in snot
is it?
no. der
i cant help it if you keep shouting at me can you?
who do i answer? not us. neither them nor we.
mother
der
by shire, it's black peaks, are, whilst foreboding
Fucking ugly.
and dont give me your peaks - or YOUR FUCKING TROFFS
whats wrong with people? sometimes... king hell.
Three peaks and Fu King Troff ta
and over easy on the egg for young.. (breaks off)
"egg for young who?"
yep. three of 'em...
fancy a dip sexy?
end of men u
hermeneutics
Lately, I have learned about: psychopaths, websites, locations of remains, language and relationships.
Let's shop together.....
Let's shop together.....
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