A Day in the Life of an Imaginative Misfit
I’m watching her go from fridge to cooker to cup and back again (her daily exercise).
‘Cream!’ She muffles under her breath.
She forgot the cream for her extra-large stuffed with marshmallows hot chocolate, so she slops back again………….
Jesus how fat and sloppy and lazy she has become.
‘Why is he looking at me that way…. filthy loser’
I know that look-nothing is said but I know what she’s thinking-she doesn’t even have to move her lips-her eyes say it all.
And so, the day has begun-I sleep in the spare room-she and her fat arse have the double room with the double bed.
She usually gets up around eight.
I put the pillow over my head as I can’t stand listening to her rustling and squelching in the bathroom then groaning, hawking and spitting into the sink.
How did it ever come to this he thought?
Here’s her mother Christ what now?
She walks in without knocking-like she lives here.‘
Ah hello Eileen’ I say with my best sarcastic smile-of course she wouldn’t know sarcasm in fact she couldn’t spell it.
‘What brings you around this fine day?’I imagine what it would be like killing her.
She brushes past-totally ignoring me.Collusion, Isolation, Alienation aka CIA women with a plan.
We’re on a collision course.
I could ask her to come woodcutting with me-winter is on the way.
Stand there now Eileen stand by the trunk of that tree great-I’d start up the chainsaw-and before she knew it her head would be rolling along the ground- her bulging eyes staring at me.
‘Any news baldy’ she laughs
Don’t call me that! Bitch! I think not answering.
I start cutting off her arms then her legs-it’s the silence and the peace, never having to listen to her again.
A human splayed jigsaw.
I amble off to my bedroom to get dressed while Bitch and ol bag talk shite in the kitchen.
Phone rings it’s-The Johnny said my laptops ready- thank Christ-the only thing worth looking at in this place.
Now that’s a grand life Johnny has-your own life.
No woman.
No complications.
‘We’re going to Neds.’ she shouts from the hallway.
‘What? Hold on
I have to collect my laptop from Johnny’s.
’Now I’m imagining taking both of them for a spin over a cliff, jumping out at the last minute-waving-I’d hear the screams and the roaring-and I’d laugh as they flew-then nosed it into the open-mouthed sea below.
‘I’m sure the world of porn can wait for you.’ she calls out herself and her mother roaring with laughter.
They’re gone.
In my car!!
That’s it.
They’ll pay.
As my palm cupped her chin
‘shut up’ a squeal comes through the trellis of fissure skinned fingers squashing her face.
Come on he thought he pushed harder he couldn’t get in fuck it.
He feels tension, he’s coming she keeps squealing and crying ‘shuuut up’!!! he presses her mouth’.
Jesus he’s all over her-stop fucking crying he squeezes each word on her throat. Then out of nowhere
Wipeout in shades of memory and a measling mass of old
Wipeout in shades of memory and a measling mass of old
As it fades the measling mass turns to shades of nebulae and
Gold
Triggers-Diversions-Life and Algorithms
When you listen/look/hear/think/imagine about media of any kind-life and living sounds like a formula-well it is.
In their most insidious way Google and its algorithms are controlling our behaviours from actions to thoughts-verbal to written-reactions to consequences and unintended outcomes.
Our lives are not ours any more they actually are a formula-Googles and all Media.
With radio and newspapers-twitter-social media and all its extensions we are controlled by marketers.
Now marketers are not an entity one bit concerned about you and yours they are concerned with money and trying to get as much of it as they can by controlling you -your behaviour-your mind.
Forming your thoughts-they insinuate themselves into your mind until you change, and change comes from constant repetition also called habituation.
They have psychologists and psychiatrists-sociologists-philosophers inputting morsels of ideas into any campaign they are running.
‘What if’ that’s the question and they are willing to run with any solution or answer to that ‘what if’ question.
Google are the same except they pay big money to get the best psychologists et al to engineer human behaviour.
There is a reason for myth and symbols and the Ouroboros fits the bill for how life as we know is a perpetual recurring nightmare of the axiomatic algorithm.
When you think about it everyone is a counselor from the hack to the politician to everyman. How did society become consumed with themselves and everyone else’s attitudes-behaviours-problems-perceptions?
How did this happen:
The psychologist studies brain function, researching and identifying behaviour and emotional patterns: they learn the how to’s.
The Sociologist studies human behaviour and society.
The Psychiatrist studies diagnosis prevention and treating mental disorders
The philosopher studies the mind knowledge values and existence.
Mixing these together with a few spoons of computer science then bobs your uncle or aunt or whomever with this the algorithmic flood gates opened and there is no way to close them.
So now everyone is in on the act and the world starts to fall apart-little mental cracks form and shatter the unformed and delicate mind.
Triggers with constancy and repetition begin with lesions small then they spread like a neurological formation.
People start to share and complain they put their lives out there they open up and google and media love this-people make the programs for the radio and TV show with their constancy and repetition.
If no one contributes, then they will ring a loyal contributor- will you come on today we are talking today about suicide-abortion-break ups-money-lying-unfaithfulness-sadness-and the big one depression.
It has got so out of hand that charities abound-help groups-helplines-one to one counselling-resources everywhere. A massive business.
Subconsciously we know this is happening to our state of mind and life. It’s out of our control like our life.
The algorithms have taken over.
There is no resistance.
The virus is algorithms.
There is no hope.
It’s in the bank.
America a quagmire of debasement with increments of corruption-exploitation and perversion of the human mind, body, spirit
She thought how life was equally simple and difficult-why she was here was down to America-the land of the brave the free the undead.
She is incarcerated in this home-the crime-getting old.
The reason behind everything that is: Continue reading “America a quagmire of debasement with increments of corruption-exploitation and perversion of the human mind, body, spirit”
Boxed in this filament of excrement by insouciant eyes and caring guise of Americanism
Here she is 91 92 next month how did it ever get to this-if she lost her mind at least she wouldn’t know what was going on-being treated like a lump of meat. That’s all she is. Serving out her time to keep Continue reading “Boxed in this filament of excrement by insouciant eyes and caring guise of Americanism”
Succumb Time EMC AOD 10.30 11.11.2016
Succumb Time AOD 10.30 11.11.2016
The Seirenes are coming
Dead! Dying. What is my mind on about, she thought.
That’s what is happening : it’s curtains, get it together and take action. It made no sense dying from what? When? How? Why?
The journey to the Dr’s was an intense overriding of bodily Continue reading “Succumb Time EMC AOD 10.30 11.11.2016”
The American Mould-Nearer my God to Thee-silently praying in votive adoration-wishing-hoping for Divine Intervention and Expiration
When it came to be Nearer to God and the chips were down-others clung on vice like to the old trunk-like larva to a leaf nothing could rip them off her not even hurricane Jim.
She was 91, 92 next month.
Sometimes you would wonder what do grown elderly adults of elder parents want. You’re an adult of 61 years of age maybe married maybe not have children maybe not-but the attachment to this trunk is like a vine wrapped and clinging Continue reading “The American Mould-Nearer my God to Thee-silently praying in votive adoration-wishing-hoping for Divine Intervention and Expiration”
Tumescent Terminus PTCA PK et al 11.11.2016 @11.11
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Tumescent Terminus PTCA PK et al 11.11.2016 @
11.11
Ambulance doors open.
She’s arrived.
Somewhere.
Expectancy heightens the ‘imminent’.
With no dissent she is lowered down from the ambulance put on a stretcher and wheeled down a corridor.
‘You’re ok’ said the ambulance man pushing fast.
What? she thinks
A face appears above hers, eyes brown and intense he’s telling her she needs to sign a form, a disclaimer in case she bleeds to death, has a stroke, a h……..her mind which had been compliant and silent is now in overload: too much assiduity and action.
‘What go away’ she thinks
What is he on about?
She hates being centre of attention and mostly she hates Continue reading “Tumescent Terminus PTCA PK et al 11.11.2016 @11.11”
