Ground breaking for the new Condo of Mexican Insanity began in early summer 2014 with the her polar assertions that
"It doesn't matter what anyone thinks about us, we know the truth about our relationship...Who care's what they say.....Do you care? I don't...We have to get married because my family doesn't understand our relationship, it can't be a legal marriage because I will lose my pension though"
The important thing is that it made perfect sense to her. The cognitive dissonance is all mine. My puny male brain apparently did not see the whole picture of life down here. I was new to the country. I did not realize what it meant at the time, and thought her to be merely bat-shit crazy, like many people I know, a kalidescope of many genders and inclinations. I know wacky dykes, Vegans, fairies and furries, other types of deranged Queens, all manner of drunken louts, gadflies, layabouts, charlatans, salesmen, business men and tricksters. I have fallen in love couple few times and sold knives to my neighbors. One very passionate person even had me selling vitamins for his money-cult before he found out that I was not going to bring any of my friend to their personal marketing meetings, where the brand was me, "Man you can sell anything Harry, with your sincerity." My so-called "warm market". My friends bought knives and vitamins from me because that's what friends do. They support you. They also tell you when you are fucking up. So I in turn protect them from any bullshit I detect in the world. Mutuality. Common interests. The chilled out lifestyle.
My point is that my bullshit detector is always functioning. My sincerity is not for sale.
Neither is my soul, sorry Seitan!
In Philadelphia when I was tending bar at the Shamrock pub Iwrote and performed a song where in one lyric I wind up apologizing to Seitan for sleeping with his daughter, A jewess.
"....her eyes they glowed red as the sex just got hotter, then the part about sorry Mr Seitan for sleeping with your daughter. "
You want to be careful about your Vegetarianism. The chorus was "She's a twisted illogical fruitcake and whore" This future grammy winning chesnnut came from a twenty year old poem of mine where I was first practicing making words play nice together. I knew that I could not play the love game on her level and striking at her with my mysogynistic words was the best I could do. She was going through a self-described "whore phase". I was happy to help. Then I got sensitive.
My pome of pain would win the page. Having won the page, I could win the day, 2AM and running out of red wine and off to bed young Bukowski, that's enough poetry for the night, forever, for the world. No one want's to hear your feelings got hurt and if they do, why would they?
The smart ass at the Irish bar would not let it go. Well into the bottle of Black Bush or some other Irish whiskey. One type of whiskey is good for the cause, one is not, I forget whose booze I'm supposed to drink to FTQ, "fuck the Queen", (not the type of queen i referred to earlier with the lowercase letters, the one that runs the world, but i digress).( I need a refresher course in economic support of revolutionary groups so I guess I need to get myself to a library and set a spell,end of first digression)
Anyway, the dude needles me and says I can drink for free that night if I read a poem at his open mike night. It's early and sparsely attended, just the songbird, her girlfriend, the bar-owner, the bartender, and maybe one or two brooding drunken Mummers. So I shoot home and grab my floral journal and try to select just the right poem for this crew. It wasn't about Seitan that first night, that came later with editing. I wrote a couple of new verses because it didn't seem fair to glorify the one who turned into a bat and leave out the one that went camping with the bar-back. You try to be fair. There's enough glory for all in this horn of plenty called my brain. Sometimes the thoughts are even tangentially connected. Sometimes they are all asides, no meat, that's where Seitan comes in, see?
"It doesn't matter what anyone thinks about us, we know the truth about our relationship...Who care's what they say.....Do you care? I don't...We have to get married because my family doesn't understand our relationship, it can't be a legal marriage because I will lose my pension though"
The important thing is that it made perfect sense to her. The cognitive dissonance is all mine. My puny male brain apparently did not see the whole picture of life down here. I was new to the country. I did not realize what it meant at the time, and thought her to be merely bat-shit crazy, like many people I know, a kalidescope of many genders and inclinations. I know wacky dykes, Vegans, fairies and furries, other types of deranged Queens, all manner of drunken louts, gadflies, layabouts, charlatans, salesmen, business men and tricksters. I have fallen in love couple few times and sold knives to my neighbors. One very passionate person even had me selling vitamins for his money-cult before he found out that I was not going to bring any of my friend to their personal marketing meetings, where the brand was me, "Man you can sell anything Harry, with your sincerity." My so-called "warm market". My friends bought knives and vitamins from me because that's what friends do. They support you. They also tell you when you are fucking up. So I in turn protect them from any bullshit I detect in the world. Mutuality. Common interests. The chilled out lifestyle.
My point is that my bullshit detector is always functioning. My sincerity is not for sale.
Neither is my soul, sorry Seitan!
In Philadelphia when I was tending bar at the Shamrock pub Iwrote and performed a song where in one lyric I wind up apologizing to Seitan for sleeping with his daughter, A jewess.
"....her eyes they glowed red as the sex just got hotter, then the part about sorry Mr Seitan for sleeping with your daughter. "
You want to be careful about your Vegetarianism. The chorus was "She's a twisted illogical fruitcake and whore" This future grammy winning chesnnut came from a twenty year old poem of mine where I was first practicing making words play nice together. I knew that I could not play the love game on her level and striking at her with my mysogynistic words was the best I could do. She was going through a self-described "whore phase". I was happy to help. Then I got sensitive.
My pome of pain would win the page. Having won the page, I could win the day, 2AM and running out of red wine and off to bed young Bukowski, that's enough poetry for the night, forever, for the world. No one want's to hear your feelings got hurt and if they do, why would they?
The smart ass at the Irish bar would not let it go. Well into the bottle of Black Bush or some other Irish whiskey. One type of whiskey is good for the cause, one is not, I forget whose booze I'm supposed to drink to FTQ, "fuck the Queen", (not the type of queen i referred to earlier with the lowercase letters, the one that runs the world, but i digress).( I need a refresher course in economic support of revolutionary groups so I guess I need to get myself to a library and set a spell,end of first digression)
Anyway, the dude needles me and says I can drink for free that night if I read a poem at his open mike night. It's early and sparsely attended, just the songbird, her girlfriend, the bar-owner, the bartender, and maybe one or two brooding drunken Mummers. So I shoot home and grab my floral journal and try to select just the right poem for this crew. It wasn't about Seitan that first night, that came later with editing. I wrote a couple of new verses because it didn't seem fair to glorify the one who turned into a bat and leave out the one that went camping with the bar-back. You try to be fair. There's enough glory for all in this horn of plenty called my brain. Sometimes the thoughts are even tangentially connected. Sometimes they are all asides, no meat, that's where Seitan comes in, see?
- a remark or passage by a character in a play that is intended to be heard by the audience but unheard by the other characters in the play.
synonyms: whispered remark, confidential remark, stage whisper; More
digression, incidental remark, obiter dictum"“Her parents died,” he said in an aside"- a remark not intended to be heard by everyone present."“Does that make him a murderer?” whispered Alice in an aside to Fred"
- 2.a remark that is not directly related to the main topic of discussion."the recipe book has little asides about the importance of home and family"
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