The psychology of simplest living, via my stories of many years truly simplest living. Real ones - not earnest or pious.
Ten years a landloper. Time to tell those tales, too.
Ralphschism.com My permanent one home online started 22 feb 2023.
Start at the beginning (first 'post' - click 'older posts' bottom right hand corner ). Themes are developed and then woven together - a series of regular essays. Some in handwriting; some audio/vid.
ONLY peaceful nice content here. 07958 5263eight1
buy me a proper Serbian coffee dotcom with 'sprinkles' of real grit from the bottom of a well used stove pot, uncleaned between usages - i aint sipping any poncey lattes...
(which was actually when it started... before the unimaginative girls - all female, of the Marches campfires homeschooling their poor innocent children on them - only their fragile little worldview, which one more than any proved two decades on the reason why she needed to "lean in" to the broken mirror was to collect the sharpest pointy bits even if i beat her with just one REAL letter.... )
Even if i told The Icon a bit of the real story she alone knew we can never know, and anyway ... ahh mustnt forget the Neruda proof - he was wrong!!
It didn't need an "hour"
The wonderful thing about living in a cave by these Miss labelled Mon-strosities (n AN Other's photo - mine too much power to get to) is it.. "represented the lovely reality that NOTHING ever lasts forever ..."
Problem with this last 20ish year 'reality' is that nobody EVER actually pinpoints exactly what it has been...
It's as if they were all blind to the Flies
Buzzing around the Ladies who copied the Lords who started it all and clever them inhabit a parallel dimension, that in fact is the dominant one, certainly in respect of "community capital" ....
Which as sure as ferrits are, is going to end up with someone on the BBQ... most of them you would think already theyve had their fingers burned, the wan looks all around..
And the fatal 1005 DEATHRATE pandemic of 'healing' all abouts....
And, wrong word as 'and' implies an ability to think in her three dimensions, never mind speak in a couple at a time..
I don't want or wish or need to be thought a fruitbat living ion a diet of sugary nutjobs.
The job always, just surviving their complete inability to be frank about their disability...
Not mine. I laugh at the tics ... admire their persistence... pull the fucker off, no tool required, and unless you squash them between your nails or veganly relocate them back into nature...and seeing the leaflets on their limes...
Remember her bitterness, no sweet, just bitter....selfcrime...
Taking THE job and then never even replying to the letter about the local buses....
A decade back at which point I knew there was no hopemaking, just their words...
(the saddest ever, her Nutcrackership, a year 'narfback....: " ive been checking out the new kid on the block, Rupert...he makes sense"... whilst taking under her fine wing, an Arab to her bed)
Anyway word of a whole lifetime, even she wouldn't understand is all that's been longer than her lifetime, aesthetic.
Just their aesthetic.
Aesthetics, rhymes with pathetic, innit.
(i REALLY DO HOPE THEY HEARD THAT, ON THE SO CALLED NEWS: Giorgio gets one of the bigjobs.... that's what you call poetical justice; "bodily" being faketoo.....indeed only who can con - the biggest revamp, vamping... with his ......
In fact the whole of a dull life, number one vamp - and her big showoff moggy.... all they ever did was try to absorb so called Iti style and designer ....drugs.... Giorgiotoo, disgusted me, alone..... and of course their Temple,
....
wow to have heard a second one yesterday, aanother African real woman - so fabulously frank and open....
"it's just a little bug.... and I decided to take the risk and breed....who knows if it breaches the borderline that separates it from me.... "
ahahhh Radio Bowie, missed it...
never mind Missing something else....
what one doesn't see is far more interesting than what is shoved in your earhole day aftyer day, when it was never indeed there in the first place, as one would never ever ever hear any dull little Londoner music on anyone's turntable whafting out of their flat windows in the 80s or even nineties... as being i alone had all his lps, and gave them the proportionate amount of airtime wafting out of mine, about 5% of general musical proportionality based on real poetry.... i would have noticed
....where was I now when a Yank has to attempt to popularise the term.....
From Narnia's 'top table' the other day:
Mariana Mazzucato believes we need to rethink the way we manage economics with government and business working together to promote human flourishing. For her, the problems are deepening inequality, the climate crisis and declining public trust. She is Professor in the Economics of Innovation and Public Value at University College, London where she is the Founding Director of the Institute for Innovation and Public Purpose. Her new book The Common Good Economy: A New Compass sets out how the economy could be designed to serve people and the planet better.
it just shows how even if they colonised, invaded, owned.. and spun their way into being so called lovely super community babes of the local supersweet community.... a decade ago and getting a truly brave and pure young woman on their filthy drugs.... how truly thick they are. Being i have a decade long chronicle of using that term as THE actual cure to all your 1/4 of you on their prozac... which shouldn't be capitalised as that's all it ever was capitalnothing...
And there is one thing more metaphorically gunshooting than a mad yank going into a school a few times a week to take their emotions out on 'class', it is a Britisher when you use that term near them.....
where was i still in brackets,
... yes... 17 May 66 a snivelly little rat makes a sneery comment about a heckle, which Michele had second sight of ...
knowing the archetype would be one day outdone....
his own featured in Les Particules élémentaires
.... a mere amateur
Next to the one whom, i bet she wanted to shag Giorgio...
Anyway had there been some aplomb in response back then....
pure art, rather than as The Mong told me a few years ago " i wouldnt bother being a tourist here i think you were right as if you had second sight even then fourty years ago.... .... the Italians [my neighbours] just copied the pretty picturesque of them Greeks who got there a thousand years before ....... Iti's, load of feyboys nothing new to say under the Tuscan son... every silly Chelsea bird thinks she may one day conceive.."
)
Now...t'wasn't the plan, a real man has none.
Lives one hundred percent in their so called " 'Now' ...
[where is that note i put in through her letterbox? three years ago...Powerin' me on ....'.luv, a decade of your con..... i was stood next to Marc, in the telephone box, as he was dying of cancer despite not ever even having a toke of anything never mind your feyboys so called skunk..... in fact it was me, by proxy getting you to Driss on his behalf which is a bad translation of Le drissery that is your tragic pathetic little life of only ever misery
dressed up for community
where you don't even have the imagination to ponder how YOU could assist him to see his children before he dies Zoe having abducerated them and she still claiming british worker tax credere...via your house....
that was me... i asked you via him dying next to me him my mere proxy you having so pickled his brain with all that years of made up 'community' and 'bliss' and other bad words you jambed into a slightly open one dimensional door so as to remove all protection forever from exactly you - the one dimensionality of nothing in your words... corporately... we know as your corporation was nothing more than a Ponzi scheme to make you look goodtoo... even if your debtors put it in rather less inteligent terms... pay the fuck up what you promised merely my agreed extremely modest indeed spendthrift expenses, except that five quid comic i bought your boy you promised to reimburse that week.... in picking up ' your ubagged factoryfarmin' dogdirt left all around your kitchen floor.... ] that's actually doggie abuse even if i woudn't dare take a pic.... or put it in these chronicles Montaigne would be jealous of if they ever get even begun
Mid summer and a bloke looking all Priory-recovered from bohemian past lives walks dfown the road its twenty or more deg
and he must perform, towelling beclothed dog
Anyway where was i.... except not the s;lightest interest in anything in Their South... (except the Iconoclast but Holy Cowmilk is expensive and of course one cant have the wrong 'vibe' which may curdle it... it must be horrid to have to smile like an actual mental defect every day at browsers of her 'wiccan' fayre as one thing the so called 'spiritual' as sure as ferrits are ferrits don't have is the dimension that was evolved so as to enable the laughter to actually come from the belly, if it turns in on itself and eats up all the bullshit humans spout... )
Where was I before i was so rudely interrupted, by the inability to say ANYthing....
sidehustle yes that's a good example as to how
ALL Italians... that's not a 'generalisation' as the ...to quote wordy old AI goes and 100 when four would do: they never DO anything....[in his movies]
Paolo Sorrentino’s portrayal of women in film is heavily defined by a lush, highly stylized, and undeniably male gaze. Across his filmography, female characters often serve as objects of desire, mystery, or embodiments of profound, unattainable beauty rather than fully fleshed-out subjects, though recent work has begun to challenge
Or rather quote every single word i have ever heard from any Italian man " my wedding..." thirty five odd years ago when no Englishman would ever dare not use the
...The word "our" is a possessive determiner (often also called a possessive adjective...
one which suggests its a combined effort.. two tangoing
Anyway yes so Fausto is allowed to go ALL the way.... get all Munchian screaming into the absolute sickboy, madness of every horrid little Vespan fake .....
Whereas Mina is required to not gush or even 'squirt' as they say...
She is held back by dilettante little squirty bourgeois production values which say something that says everything ....Felliniesque, when she the actually GREAT film directrice of the 60s ive lost her name for now... made a great film...
Define them*, even the scientifically ascertainable Miss oh Jenny only Italian MEN have weddings, of Sorrentino's general-total, sexist piggery....
can state, in the tough-love, its tough love, and a 'friend' tells the truth-talk, perfect art in one scene
" a life in tatters like the rest of us..."
....which is actual 'community'... and humanity. Not here.....ever
And there is definitely a word missing from the language, i can't find...
Indeed now i know why in fact his "prammy" was not in fact genius...
He had me suckered in...
To the real missing word, that has to say, something like, only a baby can't actually ever take, comprehend.... in the fact that other so called humans crawling around the same kinderlands.... are exactly the same, humantoo....
But they're fucked humans, Now....
Their god Gabor, has now turned on themtoo...
Those who bought his act for so many years
Even if nobody got, except me, when it all began... at the turn of the C
maybe a year or so before
At her Montessori-style, even if they're too special to have given their style a name even if straight out of unaffordable (i had thought, there, then) Guardian Colour Supplement advertorial.... campfire.... that night under the stars ...
" you mustn't generalise..."
If only then i had the tough-love manliness man alive to say "shut the fuck up you will ruin all of civilisation with that prissy precious thinking of nothing but your own little lost solo alone dimension that fair dinkum is a couple as you don't REALLY want to be here among the cow pats.... youre only doing what was in the style mags...
And generally speaking wont be able to afford the gentirfying rent update unless you really do rev up your con.... furthermore women only got the well earned vote as some bloke stood up in the Patriarchy and said well if we let them in they wont GENERALLY all vote for some swivelleyed loon called Farage (oops that's bad Oggle can now spell him) one day and anyway they already have a lot of power behind closed doors maybe in fact more than their fair share.... even Georgie girl didnt moan about some position only modern day morons do that refer meeluds to... https://lithub.com/justice-for-maggie-on-george-eliots-most-underrated-heroine/
I’m always on the watch for Too Much Heroines—women who, in the face of patriarchal dictates, cannot or will not contain themselves emotionally, sexually, physically, or intellectually. A heroine like Maggie Tulliver, one who, over the course of her life, is considered too clever and impetuous and exuberant, commits the gravest of crimes: she occupies space explicitly denied to her. Maggie emotes with lavish immoderation; reads everything her brother does, and exponentially more; and, as a child, thwarts attempts to render her a dainty specimen of girlhood.
......You READ her great book as a young man and you come away with the simple one un'thwarted' feeling....Maggie, big girlor small
was the boss. And had the better mind by far.
Period.
Or not'....."
Now that's interesting...
Meu coração está nas terras
As someone who almost always prefers female vocal to dull blokes
Indeed i think there is the parable they needed all along
Find a castrati, and package up every bit of off-chop from them all, ever, into one man, Mister James....
and fair dinkum i think his version is better than Else's.....
Which took some doing...
But back to Meu coração está nas terras
I wouldn't have dared even hint a week ago ..in their Highlands .... " my coração [ a word often used speaking with civilised people in thgeir tongue which is connected actually to, it] ..... just near exploded seeing you alone [ not the sex crime version but the complimentary one YOU ONLY HAVE A BRAIN THE REST WENT MAD]up there sensibly attired in your red hotpants .."
But the big question i aint hangin' around to ask, it's MUCH too dangerous:
"why did you alone, introduce yourself nicely ...humanly...in the saudade way .... of 'my name is' - demand i know it almost....... before it ever even occurred to me to take such a dangerous old fashioned simple nice ordinary mindful-of-nothing, other than just simple propriety... wonderful lovely human step... even up there on your five grand nag... .?"
Anyway what was i going to rattle out ...?
no not him we will get to him at some point even if too late
by about twenty years
half a battery wasted already...
And him forgotten already - in so so "nice" community ive never actually seem before someone come and park using the caveman method of assessing how far back one can go into the "space" - listening for the clang of metal upon metal.
ehhh...
A nope it will end with MY Atomised timing ceremony to MY anniversary ... nobody elses, mine
ohh yes so one doesnt't now wish to be thought mindless 3ish months ago i am still stuck mid sentence about something...
along the lines of 'now i get it'
The english (hint the other 'nations' will never get a look in and 'twas ever thus..no matter what crap Radio Bowie may perform.... having studied the London lanyard in all their artless glory, very carefully)
Being purest flanner.. giving equal credence to no people, merely their actual acts...
Borders only something imaginary down below in the swamp
So occasionally - infact extremely rarely do i ever ever look at anything else anyone else ever 'posts' about anything especially "what is greatest guitar piece ever" but in a weak moment midwinter
fair dinkum i hadnt focused upon it too much at all, indeed HAD focused on the " ....this is a rather good word picture, 3d metaphor for the whole of society at large..i wonder what major intellectual societal Dadaist or even surrealist insights along the lines drawn by André Breton (the movement's founder), Louis Aragon, and Paul Éluard - [stupid unintelligent fucker wont let me turn off its highlighter pen... ] inspired the so 3d words of one of their few good songs with some deeper meaning for sure! ? "
Now... several years ago one noticed one person above all with nothing to say, at angsty performed 'longform' greatest length .... other than performing " im such a hero not playing a gig in jerusalem.... "
Yet another 'activist...and musician...'
certainly one of the worst ever rhetoricians
neigh i blame their infantile babyism on him alone...
Anything to get attention upon his little bubble of just him
With nothing adult ever to say
Such as .... 'we' lost.... retire with grac
And just recall Her truly artistic Iconoclastic brastraps of 2020 that perfect day her on Stasi duty
she wanted me to picture as she knew i alone got her iconoclextsacy
actual Beauty
(that picture has five dimensions and two only her and i know of)
Anyway..... ehhh....yes.... "where is that creep from... bet its Surrey or some pastiche of it .... ?
"and while we are here ... what was that song about that inspired the so called best ever guitar... ? what inspired it ...?"
(this around the time of several greatest non events in history, one being theyre off to see it..)
"comfortably numb .... surely some intelligent Camus-like refection upon the existential tension on her glorious Tightrope trying to keep your coffee from spilling....as someone is twanging the rope to test your manhood and promises, properly.... no safety net..... ? something intelligent ... now lost by a pestilence of Mumforditis all over....
"Ok have to admit Mister Gilmour does get to that place surely inspired - indeed created, artistically tense-wise, by knowing one day his co member will be the biggest prick in all of rhetoric ever ....
" the purest [™ Oracle girl Industries - i wonder is she 'registered' it, as if she did it would be an actual criminal offence to defile her errata their purity in their context.. the context of them... ] artistic response to having to even look at his ugly mug spouting vainglory day after day..
fair dinkum the most beautiful of arty farty screams in his two 'phrasings' with his axe.....
" but whats it about...?
" ..... the little prick stubbed his toe and needed toenail surgery and a Valium to ease the pain..... and thats what made him Comfortably Numb.... now i get it.....
"hark whats this..... ?!?!? ...i didn't REALLY get it, until.....
" he went to..... college ....to study to be....
" an...
"architect.... " well that really DOES explain it..... not only did they ruin everything but my whole life testimony to never trust them one eyed monsters - utter pricks it always turned back on their own inadequate little worldview... ..
" so they gotta spoil my nice simple oldschool quite adequate view....
"never mind write the worst one dimensional moaning nonsense ever in history.....
" Hmm but what about mister axeman ...? what did he study? ...ahhhahh as if to prove our point back then, 1980, university part of the woke sick little neurotix word of unimaginative everything-phobes... who will go on to make up every single load of rubbish especially prozac can cure you of you....not having ANY values... and to cap it all, his dad a scientist.... a proper one dealing with blood and guts... of animals no wonky drug flavoured human nonsense... reality"
Now.... all i know is... one in the family is bad enough.
And is always the same even if i didn't know that even the Yanks knew of that syndrome - my own lifestory in one take-away; a whole lifetime ago being 27 years.
But define, 'constant'. and keeping to ones value system. No matter what one may have lost out on.
Now even if extemporised* (his, the funky 'father's, word back then) upon just a tad...
Really it's "hopemaking" (™).. that is the biggest joke of all, even if he started it with his "sensemaking" (™), when all he can trade on is filling the poor patients heads with magyc mushies....
(i saw it at last " wyse" woman.... ! that's defo now the full hand, and kairostime to take their Tarot and shove iot where the son never shone, as his dad was too busy sucking up to festival girls...and with ones like her twenty years back almost to the day, braiding my lasses hair - as DUEL purpose 'good influence', how was i to know fifteen years on she would.... be so under the influence of herself she smiled at drinking herself to a near death 'experience' ...anyway how was I to know that near three years ago to the day... after the last look at Hell-on-Wye, and why it was so ... hitting the bridge, between lands - nether and thitherregions.... midbridge, to Never Again, there was a selfie opportunity me and CArlos....
rather apt, especially if one factors in the lack of wisdom in those coming up through the mangrove swamps as some so called first worlders
protégé
(they're always small especially if Francine's)
and not having read enough small simple ones especially Michael K.... or even the fabulous Françoise, born rightly with her circumflex in place, as a birthsign, a real one.... of not taking sex too seriously, unlike the Flutebabes so called dad.... )
Anyway a wiseun knows something: being told you are any good, has one causal effect, you don't get any better...
And you certainly should have retired before you got older and truly uninspiring.
to ponder what is in the lacuna between the layers of even a flat pack of naturally ironed hankies, that have all of life between those layers
and may say "live on",
just to spite them
That the Suburban Southerner simply cannot access and i had no idea. Wait until they start to copy so called 'neuroscientist' philosopher Mister Sam Harris unable to keep to his pledge of 'free scholarships for life' ..
All he did is copy Eisenstein
.....In geometry, a "no dimension" or zero-dimensional (0D) object is a single mathematical point. It has no length, width, height, or volume, existing purely to define a specific location
OSHO No-Dimensions Meditation is a powerful method for centering one's energy in the hara. It is based on a Sufi technique of movements for awareness and ...
Now i've lost track around a place with no map meaning forgot which utterly nothing clips i've put up, for no fun, but one is ace birdwatchery
"Oui, exactement!.."
Indeed in one 'moment' that requires no dodgy crowdfunding as real back-of-mind plan...
To not be in any Now....
"if i get my 'offering' to just the right layer of the network ... well one day i may need them to sub.... my rent...." Which is pretty futurethink if you ask me
But the bit of the future that always makes me laugh is (except for THE one at the heart of The Source, which is last laugh on me ) is when one expresses an opinion or appears to be on the edge of just that they lurch...
It is an upward 'energy' powered by nothing as they've never even read one of the good Tolstoys...never mind a Françoise
Just by being 'present' and having the right bag.... that is enough and 'entitles' the next bit which is I am entitled to jump in immediately and tell you with that upwards energetic
anti-nod to nothing, but...
I mean if you tell someone they are wise and deeply embodied right up their own back passage as some kind of eternal lightsource.... The business of The Source...
Well, of course they cannot listen for clues, maybe he does know what he's talkin' of.... and then as if on cue, as if all the tourists had run away back to 1979...
She gets out her notepad.
" oui.... Le Liseur du 6h27) if you look up their awful device version its just a perversion: is a charming 2014 novel by Jean-Paul Didierlaurent. no it aint fuckin 'charmant..'. its perfect 'Esprit de corps' ..how to live on and make a foolof yourself, again.... no English can write a book like that for at least fifteen years.... ahhahhh you want to know about how mentul elf is NOT 'inherited' too, other than via the angst within the childhood household almost always copying theor angst shitty tv i threw out 25 years ago ive never even seen a biogjob flatscreen my values are for good.... "
"ahh vos enfants....enfants, vous êtes la race la plus nombreuse..sur la planète....half breeds.."
smiling (that is THE key word in the unknown history of two peoples divided by The Source in reality ) .." mongrels.."..
" I'm glad you know that word! ....yes mine is one too.... isn't it a lovely word.... if there had been a bit more monging in the Middle East it may be a tad more peaceful ohh well ....
Jesus feckin .... I mean to say, as one felt, that the flanning was always akin to landlopeing in that the laller the bouncy version, the former the meandering seeking a deeper meaningful, thingummy, before they ruined the language with their 'vibe'
And now they really ruined the language with their deep mine down to nothing but faery language
*A flâneur (noun) is an idle urban stroller.
Being you had to be flânnish... in response to them
As you defo didn't wish to be them. And you sought, lolloped, aimlessly smelled it like a hawk from ten km away, feeling, that made sense of their lack of it.
But as to why.....
Several decades later several decades before, infact almost exactly 15ish years....
they started their silence.
And the stupideratti chattering away in the latest vibe have only just discovered it.
Wednesday, 27 May 2026
Now...all that matters, is to be constant.
No moods and no expressing them via the footwork which is a Southern mind
full of nothing to do with nature
I have never seen nobody in any cool hills, for a whole 48 hrs..
Except one - she seemed to understand the lope, and being island..
All i know is actions are far more authoritatively constant and unchanging quiet if action words, than words...
I know that i havent picked up the current book at 0600 and, n ever, 100 pages to go, and gobble them up before the rest, of, they infact will have to wait it's turn.
He really was quite astonishingly writerly, honourable and i doubt there are that many falsities.
And Rachel K i know copied from himtoo - which is a true acolade.
All they care about.... earning their for their 'space' in Bubblelands....
But only she seems to get out in it...regularly
But values are ALWAYS
now yes.... if i were to pass on one nugget its how truly atrocious all 'nature' writing is.
Being you have to use every second of the day to hurry the fuck up and get into it, firstly...
And every wasted second is a bad act even if there aren't any bad actors just arrogant
Anyway what do i know except all digital was always useless and unable to get inside the heart .. but so called 'nature writing' is even worse than digital especially now i know - well a year ago ... exactly what their real nature is... and of course if they have a Yank tutor, monetising her inability to know even nature folk, law... which is honourable, always, and requires a "no thanks" even teenagers knew that, well how does one expect anyone to know that even rural 'management' must be based on rural honour which was always only ever mean what you say...
The ultimate absurdism is peeps who know nothing of how the countryside must function, i mean even master Hardy who rightly disowned himself in later life, as frippery, managed to get that bit right, you meander on ignoring what slight ewas yesterday
Anyway where did i get to, Anne... she is such a media tart with nothing to say except maybe you should spend a few grand on a Hardy first edition; she certainly let the sisterhood down.
But then i always knew none of them knew what books were for... even then, thirty years ago... and my my i was right
So yes we have 'romantasy' and other miscellaneous Ffordian bourgeois (thats all it is foodie nonsense) colour supplement puke..
But what matters is that a year back when you have someone who actually LIKES the magical real film script treatment and indeed whole fabulous subtly satirical film arising in my head, written down carefully even by her...
That among other things (the main one being her english dad) attacks quite rightly foodyism as the cheroot of all modern day avoidance behaviour indeed the nanny state of mindful of nothing
And..of course she couldn't mean anything as she could never get over the worst person - ok first equal ...
19th into 20th C English man, and his cousin the almost as cruel Frog
And almost all of errs Pauline, genuinely propitious
And ok Nat and her fabriquer une vantardise rédemptrice
frank, ly we could have left it at that
Thing is now i know I've been lying for a decade...,.
The god-line, used as TEST..EM!!!!! " as Neruda once said a conversation does not begin until weve been sharing for an hour as one isnt allowed to say shut the fuck up and listen to wisdom, speak.... cos you're told if you tell em you spoke
theyll say well thats where youve been getting it wrong.... especially there ar The Source of the source that would get you zarrested for being saucy...
Thing is how do i know speak when i know it was all along a non vegan porkie
(ITS ALLOWED AS I AM INFORMED FROM WOKE CENTRAL DOWNTOWN THEY SAID SO AND I BET THEY WERE ALL GAY TOO) I was retarded and so was Neruda...
whats the opposite of to be retarded to....
come forth so so fabulously energised and with great esteem that you don't need an hour to suss out....
So even Pablo will have to be updated or rather all one liners are inadequate. Needing at least another line or even two.... the fourth being where it was IMPOSSIBLE....
far too Inhuman when only a true one, happy in her skintoo could so back-straight brighteyed be so just supremely cheeky
And unhesitant about ittoo
unlike the rest who hesitate so as to rear up and bite your head off knowing you'll give them indigestion sharing any wise guruwords..
and i MUST finish something
On how they stole the words
what a fool I is
It's gorgeous....
so truly sighted the second you see it
And Exactly even in the hottest foul swamplands of The 1930s way before the patinated bohemians shat in GweekCreek... and then performed bullshit for the tourists who day they are as mindful of bullshit as them.... already 1930s!the shababes were doing a number, on the tourists....
oh yes and how progressive when peeps knew what it meant
i just love the word voodoo especially if its second sees a whole century thence
makes you want to celebrate, great art... that doesn't' tell you what to think
intermission in the cool upland office where work is only a pleasure
And of course there is nothing more arrogant-English than a Frog Acedmie des Lettres ( i made up as i am saving my battery for ME - just me...unlike the cracked nutjob, the lost burnin' Bush... )
but it fitted with whats to come as i know what came
L'Académie française, fondée en 1635 par le cardinal Richelieu, est la plus haute institution de régulation de la langue française.
"Offwith your head if you try and think
above your station...... !
And...groom a whole generation into actual real activism or at least persisinting
the worse hell on earth ever even worse than a day there...
hang on
thing is even two lifetimes one can't learn real Frog, with treble the nuance sometimes
"Ne quittez pas"
isn't the same as the Londoners gagglin around indoors and pretending to be egalitarian
" hang on chaps ... this fleabitten con is....
a true genius.... as there is only one, l'esprit... ferkin ell ..... we better let him in our clique.... merely on merit... "
Now... even if i need to take Papi up to the High Mountains away from the fabricated redemptive Boastlands
which simply sums up thirty dull years
An actual spirited one once managed
Which entirely sums up all of it, especially Now...
powerless pricks
having managed to at last get all the way through Woodlanders for the second readin' but actually whilst a historical curiosity
and interestingly
far more babe-empowered than the so called babes of Today or the last stupid twenty years
credit
I've had it with Hardy even i overrated him
(and even if suffering the worst "wound" (™) in history, twenty eleven (AI having a hallucination in other words like everyone else is unreliable The Hay Festival's primary stage venue in the mid-2000s was famously known as the Eos Marquee, sponsored by the now-defunct premium airline EOS
nope...i got her on the wireless 2011 I'm sure it was, to be actively fuckin irate and embarrassed at the usual hypocrisy of the little pricks from down South with absolutely
no consistency of values
but all she could do was suggest buying a Hardy 'first edition' for thousands
as if one doesnt need at least a hundered hours on the hammy wheel so as to afford the gift for the 21 year old young woman
Acedia
I knew about thirty years ago!
But that's my business.
Now....
All that matters is the learnings for the next one.
And it is the way he so smugly came in... 2020..
I still remember his name, Lister.
Ok a tad Montesori Gweek retard (we shall come back at last to that so lovely word a lovely lovely gay man told me is now back rigeur but i need to Papilate it..)
I would speak with lovely Lister now and again his single mummum couldnt afford days out with him, ten, at town places so they would loiter there...for free
Inspiring him a pure
flâneur
brother in meandering around looking for depth and soul
As i have been all my whole life so fuck off and die of there being none left
(except one icon' of it )
speaking with new folk even me on my old bike....
just being in some soulful meaningful 'space'
For free.
" ohh..so you are the new management [all very Camden Market clad] well great its a lovely space that the poorer locals come and get a bit of culture at ..... and its wonderful they keep it a good community space even if theres only ten minutes worth of art.... i have seen kids there who otherwise wouldnt ever see any so.... good luck ... "
(lanyard quivering )
" we will be keeping it open for the COMMUNITY .... diversity/inclusive/community/blahh blahh...."
But Lister's mum with her three of course never again loitered with lovely Lister as a fiver each, no concessions....
was the best artistic representation i know of, of the gated community
clique
fabricated redemptive boast
lie
actual retardation
etc
another day
why does this one say 198 views already??!! i never look much at views, as there is no one with a mind left, to read between the lines... but you can't help seeing the number next to 'select video'
Now there are so so so many loose ends of the weave still to at least burn off and make it pretty ... this will make no sense to any new browser, but now i know the end word, last one, i can start at the beginning.
The proper heritage that needs to be stuck up the annals
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