But i didn't actually [nix] ...lie....

 except i know one thing

They (pl) 

Wouldn't say even half a stupid thing before they drove in the final nail.

In my dog kennel.

I meant that.

Spice bums (naughty me I'm plagiarising just a tad but then when the sublimest fucking forever, ever ends up with a new Tangled....

Hidden tangled up around hos knickers in a  twist needing to hide the best one, forever....

Amazing Grace...

Swiss banks of the river they live on....

I canknee stop....

And my how they (pl) would love her.... 

As i do

No matter what, next. Always ....

But oh my as i figured, yes, the pain..... I can take any but if she leaves it all the way until the wheels have indeed fallen off, my oh my that will really hurt.....

So, back to biz, Should I, I mean we, merge...?

I mean the 'sister' of this.

What do the runes say? one wonders.... not for cash. Ever.

Let's listen and listen and hear if there are any clues. Cos i not a thiought left for 

me.

All of them...

" i lied"

 So, a merger?

Careful of me dux (pl) ...

Never mind "saudade" (pl) 

Or  Them "sublimes" (pl) 

or....

I need a p[at, or a pettin....neigh a bath.

Or just....

But somehow they seem to know. Pl....

But to think, silver linings to butterfly wings...

 causing chaos in your world.

She would not have been here, if it was not for that one little buggy bat

Or bothersome Chink...we will never know so why do they think they can know.

But the fluttery buterbye bye effect...

fuck....

I hope Gabriel can see and hear and know...

Because only he could know she was all his imagination and more in that one moment. That was impossible t'was gunner be...

reality by magic, by the most guileful writing to err ever...

It cannot be topped.

And her lad battling Homeric tles into the equation.... "they dould poison me now melad...and i would die happy...... because tiz impossible to see a Helen like that do that.... and mean it" 

Being one does not lie in front of...them. That she also knew....

But i didnee fink...

 It was that look.

Her look....

in the sexist piggery that is typical

Italy...

she never even gets a credit

But has about the most perfectly poignant glances 

never mind the rest.

To have at last that look.

There, as we wandered all of history so in our faces and her little uns...

Oh fuck....

T'was absolutelu impossible

Always

But then as i met her and clan

On The Hill...

And then she came to MY Lowalands

And we roamed mine.

And her eyes weren't that sad

After all she knew....

She knows.

All.....

well she finks she does beauty laike that ina  glance she thinks she knows it all....

But she does know i know how to...

9ilegal word0

Help her for real.

And free.

When one has so seditiously and artfully batted away the council tax baliffs a whole year or mor'n..

I owe 'society' something for this poise and grace.

If only she knew - that space in my bookshelves.

Three year'n ago t'was meant for someone else....

who admittedly had fabulously sineweye arms from wearing her nipper on her hip

And chuckin bales..

If only she knew.

But it's like she did know.

It was not on her pile....

cheeky bint.... 

Knowing bint...

But she knows i know too...

And so

What next?

I haven't been to paradise before.

Which is ....

to be cont.

Now, as we have a new Tangled [innix] and...

 ...all this interest feigned or neigh....

 

I mean why did she come ?

 

But to know what that line means the one 'bout the most bootiful woman crawling over all that cut glass...

 

we touched.

Often.

Her children were even better than i ever imagined.

 

Ferkin Bob couldn't, well as I said to The Narratoress

 

"S1.... your namesake.....  when she came...

"ALL and you know how i swear by my Gabby....

" From Leaf Storm to melancholy hooker....

" Every word of his cannon was in that one hour...

"The Sublime mixed up with the 'most beautiful woman', to quote the bard, giving me the most beautiful looks, to quote the impossible...

"it... the most glorious year in all my human history continues... and you know it started with you you lying tart hahh hahhh....down by your river as i was sat there reading that very best, last  Leo...April 2020......

"But what of the latest Rachel principle little development....we shall see...a certain Mister Machiavelli may have a turnin in his grave because there is alwas the RAchelian pacifist version of...advantage... WHO KNOWS I HAVE NOTHING AND NEED NOTHING BUT A ROOF WOULD BE CONVENIENT PERHAPS... accidental  capitals too busy with that sublime to care to change "

 

 Now, this starts.... 

 Now, the observant will perhaps note something. Not that i need to be observed indeed, neigh will never know if I am.

The quantum of it - well she received a greater privelage than she will ever know; no one else knows of him.  This Ralph. Oh Ralph there was only really ever you and I. They would have decried him too. 

And that is pride is of course a dubious concept however I do more than pride mysen' on being up at four or five of the morn' and a timestamp proving so - well it used to be my trademark.

Things that'll never be...

 Of course I looked.

So, what can one say except I bet she was fraud, too.... not knowin' her Atchin Tan...

Ooops intrusion in a word, there... one cannot speak true words so let's use nice little fluffy ones, despite her being lethal, quite clearly; fraud just a short cut word for lost, and maybe even loney.

Now I only know one person...or do I

In the same room albeit rather a  large one, in the same year, as he was this good.... I hope he was that good, for her. 

Even if i would no longer recognise her.

 

But thIs is no tale of loss and lament. That's the question. Can she ever know? Would it harm her to know. I mean Blake still loves his "captors" (rather well done). Fate Accompli. But truth trumps mere being. Perhaps...

time is indeed the so called enemy

 But I have no enemy.

Because I saw it.

And then it was not to be seen.

And then I looked about kicking my arse. 

Obscene....tiz.

How they pulled that little trick.

 

And so ‘they’ wannit.....and I never do that.

Many a year I never do that.

“Never”.

As she said.

And then went a bit wonkers...

Thank god because here is a question.

I know the answer.

The truth is i would never have had one single millisecond.

Other

(Just when i figured why they had to do it, because they must to an ‘other’).

Not the actual one.... when total sublimity was a gift from the gods when everyone else was moaning.

And i moaned only with delight in a lamentful way. That was worth living for always. Always. No matter what.

Because.

I am shy.

And with all those.... moaners..... 

Well forget them.

"you want a victim.....ehhup 

.....there are plenty to spare"

But there is still only one question.

To which I know the answer.

But I shall ask her.

Too.

Talking of her-too or should it be discombobulated into one word when anyways, like, fourty two years ago they already had the answer...

 attitude.

Right now.

Those "baby figs" matter.

As she will perrraps notice.

But before that only one noticed.

And I have awaited the kairos. 

For three years.

Just as I am about to fall off the cliff.

Ok, so....

 All I was was testing...

To get to her broken boot.

And what we saw inside.

So much is figurative, ear. But that was not. 

So what am I doing here?

All I know I found it.

Did it work?

I needed something to 'work'.

Because I have ne'er been so quite exhausted.

Emotionally.

And I never moan, ever. 

Nor did she.

But, let go....

Let go...

Eric did once, maybe only once...

For real.

And let the goddesses take over, entirely.

That's what they need.

Let go and trust all those fancy new mental words. To be actually a 'thing'.

Of course that was always what it was only ever about.

Are they a 'thing'?

And to

check which of the little splitters is best.

And to get Arvo onto my device. 

Never mind the box of unorganic (but do i confess) snacks...fuel.

And a towell.

And the picture, too.

And the gifts, too.

Because there is a way to actually earn, the gifts, that I know. And share for no price other than, a natter in the ....at the.... by the...

Is she myrrhhhgolating?

 Because I gave up.

I closed my file.

Onerr

No 'honour' - that's YUK spelling.

And was 'rewarded'  perhaps.

By her "thank you for.."

 

But will she understand

Languid?

 

I mean, really.....really

Languid.

 

I mean really fuckin at my river languid.

I mean really really naked on my Hill languid.

I mean last Friday at 1100 hours ish really really...

Beaten.

"hmm so will they take the books... years no matter what, no matter what silly little bug, I collected...?"

"well, overdue, well overdue hahh hahh due to the most glorious year in all of history, well at least since Debord figured it....all of history indeed; because it is impossible that she would in front of him.... well...."

 

Just a thoughtbubble, for the one whom fair dinkum started it:

"your goddesses....sorry luv, I think we can say that world is full of the not very languid and not very honourable - no matter which side of the pond you spell it from.... twenty seven years I have awaited this, no way she will keep to her word... [those dots are The Sublime by the way not that any nincompoop could get that] ....  but I prepared as if she would, because that is the right thing....  and when t'other day my ballies did not back off and i knew this time i was beat.... about two years late; well... t'was the hour later when i knew that I really would be beat....  and then just like that as if to prove that Goddesses really do love to switch passages they f you up.....  I wasknee...

"but i have no pride.....I was arranging to subsume all the way to their book nickin inevitable...

"I even rehearsed the chat....

"and the 'look' ...of resignation

"But, luv, I shall not try to prove to you that your goddesses or 'inner work' is a load of pants; I know not the deal and should have been dead years ago, but i have only one gift as I have pondered all day on my hill: as we know the sheepl have fallen hook line and sinking feeling for one little thing..... to 'control' the uncontrollable. Accept. And look for what can be, so much fun it is daft.... but a tip, I near died to save that Union; and your Nige well he as good as stabbed her in the back as she was off backpacking to even The Armenian revolution....   but i feel not one quantum particle of confusion about you  .... despite your side, and had to accept your uneducated anti Enlightenment bolshiness, not in any way as good as an actual God of the Bolshie, Thomas The B ...  a ferkin foreigner according to you...

"but for your own good that parallel matter, accept like I did  - I am unmarryable according to all my foreign babes...  because they don't like us any more; accept... it is only about the sentiment of the peepl, and there is a critical mass even if no one among that "other 15% " who understand 'constructive criticism' is because you love..... Mister B knew that, i think....  those 15 ish percent who may hold some sway, and i know languid sway.... they dictate, that your other argument you have...lost, for thine own good give it up"

 

THE END

And so

 Friday the seventeenth.

Of September that is the ninth month.

picture also of 

picture of...

"Hello"

"Do you dream....

 ...to touch me"?

L a

 

l a n

l a n g

l a n g u

langwi....

id 

s' a ferkin suprise they don't accuse one of that too.

"sometimes this life is obscene..."

testing....

But what 'for'? now....

Listen to giz yesteraft.. 

Black that is.

Anyway all the moaning. The person with the most to moan about.

Still would not not be born.

I know what law needs changing. It is just the 'message'. But still.

So, how dare they ......

 And will she?

And how could she.

 

But let us go back to last year.

This material is not called Sublime2020 for no reason, likerseckerslike.

 

Because The Sublime has to have a ....price

That's the deal.

Even if to quote her - one of so many dreary hers

we pay for

pay-as-ye-go

Who never know what the her-on they need...

 

But that was funny, was it 'her''sssss?

MOG

somethingorother MOG

 

And so in nineteen seventy one all was well.

And then in nineteen ninety eight some tart came along and decided she would

Monetise 

'Consciousness'.

 

minnie and co before i heard her and co

 

"Think twice"

I mean bless your soul

Just because you have spent a fortune on blue hairdye

Does not mean

You have soul

Like him

"lass... the music...it twirled around and

"came...

"back"

 

 

Now what a lot of

fancy pants.

Gatherated not far away.

With their silly masks but i saw:

Some forget

Now.

 

 

But fancy pants.

Just a day before just a few miles away.

The time of my life.

 

Bless my soul she's a thinkin

But o'course she cannot think:

"bless your soul" I'm a thinkin'

Because, well how do you put it into words:

All of them.

The whole of British Hemel Hampstead history since about MasterCard went on the telly.

And spawned her.

As fulsome as the width of that little bit is soulless plastic.

Who do you think you are

bless it.

oops she thinks she has one.

Only an actual soul can be stood in front of her and actually

Enjoy

her day.

She had put off one glorious year

and a half.

"so how about would you make it three..."

And i knew.

What winning is Mister Fuckin battles and wars.

 

And living in their so called 'moment' is.

It says 33 "people" have read the last.

Well nothing really had happened except everything already in the sublime years.

T'wasa  typos 

so many

But

'Years',  that's indeed the truth.

BUt i just rit 'tear' by accident for

that last, 

from now.

It was impossible that she even read my "wrong side of the curve"

Even if that was audio.

And she rit it back.

On our new App

ours.

As if made for us, by Snowden.

I mean last year, ok one of some.

Impossible but last was sublime.

The real meaning, of them Poles.

You got Oggle.

"look it up"

Biut no mere defnition can predict.

That that following

(just for fun, i wonder if she liked it...)

To keep me from going mad.

Because what is mere madness, when

You just know.

No not me I did not even think of it,

your Wordwide MArch 2020

Well but for 5 minutes to quite the blond

But it's all very well having a perfect year.

BUt then nothing came of it.

Did it.

Until.

IN the last place one can find on earth.

Sanity.

Pure

intelect.

'relative' the most important word.

Does not even apply.

Because she is.

Well 

clever enough to know that of course out ten hour call.

Was yes still a little unequal.

Still.

But it was nearly still.

Doe death from exhaustion and seeing that sunridse, oh my

By his place.

All the money in his world - he's not even worth the effort of

Ctrl I  italicising.

Because he would not know could never know.

What had happened all night in his layby up t'road..

And i never stay up past even ten

Latest.

And not only am i now in where i planned

To be two years ago.

The truth, i shall welcome the rest.

Beacuse the ruth is i saw her for the second morning after too.

And it is my truth.

Even if she cannot ever hear it again.

For her .... internet? people? I don't know...

Ahhh just let's call her Mrs Choo choo...

She seems to like it well enough.

But no specifics.

There is no need as there is the universal

human rights.

We know we should can she?

Ancd i cannot recall what her type is.

Well i had no idea even if quite off the track

I thought i was Brit

what perfect sitting in a train music

And

Letting her

Drive...

No don't be daft.

I mean it is all so daft ...already.

So, like there's 'impossible'.

And then there's so impossible that even if Donald Hoffman's right

His maths is so  wrong it is the wrong way round and the probability of....

Nohhh don't be daft.

 

 

She...in italics and dark bold font. But how dark? And bold?

 SO there's me...

Am I me?

Which sounds all very existentialist

and twee.

Let's be clear, she, cannot know of this.

You, reader, sadly

Exactly what on earth does one say next.

No poet could.

I mean if we started

Eleven months ago.

I wish I was eleven months ago as the perfect living in the perfect moment.

Day after day.

I must remember for always the way, cycling out from the ruin

A real ruin, more ways than one.

Down that drive.... two hundred years ago he would have  come up by gig or trap, that drive.

But everything that was him is behind me, as i head down that drive.

Every day  - that moment coming out from the woods, into sunshine

"is she here lurking, waiting for my money perhaps?"

An inadequate way of describing not one moldy molecule of shame.

Fuck their living in the moment at a hundred quid for a few hours of moments

Of nonsense.

This is living  - the energy just heading off, because one can.

And then it all started...

Every day, in the middle of nowhere, so much.

That was mine.

Those months were mine

Perectly mine.

Only mine.

And everything else for years - many a higher form of low and highish investigation of things never known.

Before, nothing. 

Just that perfect few months .

Sometimes 'hiding' but then a few hours stripped off on my higher hill

who cares - no cares... just me and one or other once more good book.

But surely a bit of Balzac, cannot be much good. Until it is the only story ever made any sense.

Being 'me'.

Bully for me.

But then perhaps you want real emotion, without knowing you want real emotion.

Autopilot, standby....

With one difference - shame gone.

Is paradise. Is peace - the frauds claim even more there is online.

Nope peace is absolutely nothing

can happen.

So forget.

And where i wonder did he come from?

One day:

but i have to just play it...quiet

meaning this is not, exactly, inplacement, but exactly in sound,  that which heard on a June day in twenty twenty because i have to be not me.

And.... 

"my oh my can we have forever more of this.... those naughty bootleggers all this marvelous free time....to share with us at last their genius goodies and goodies and ... I mean, it is impossible life became so viscerally poignant and completely liminal in a way that only, well... its a fuckin dream... a lovely one that hurts for the right reasons.."

 But that is inadequate, for the person most of the time so hurt that only the greatest jokes can be made of it....

which is exactly what one must do.

Or die.

Living.

So the frig what.... nahh thats not me. Me is, "ten years of this... i survived but....

oh fuck.... he gonnan done it again how can only he hit you with Mozartian busseye so many a time..."

so lets have a little light relief.

There is a run up to this ditty but t will have to wait because in fact I need her now. This moment

Nineish Pm on the 25th of May 2021

She really... is me?

Noh but she is perfect and she is now - this time.

This moment, because Most of The Time was meant to be forever,

wasn't it the fuck meant to be surely it was...

I looked at the translation once of this sexist pig version above that does not even mention her name

typical fuckin ITI fuckin arrogant deliberate MIss Oh Jenny get the dinner on will yer...

But that's something from eight years ago

which is not this year - that year i remain cycling no hands through the most flowerful hidden away byways ever

June...

Last...

she could have been on then

she summed up then exactly the complete and utter fuck all else than her

and nature

and surprising amount of new friends, living genuinely nowhere

 But then fast forward through literally a whole lifetime in a few months.
To her.

Her layby.

I have quite a few different named laybys.

But i did not know her, then.

I should have known, t'was 'their'.

Because within just a few weeks.

Her...smile is as perfect as Alessia's 

For sure

I cannot lie.

You cannot lie when she 

is all there ever was.

But she was gone....

not most all the fuckin time....

f you knew - you it says just one of you.

Now this minute.

Maybe you are a bot

oops accidental italics i type very very very fast and aint wastin my time unitalixin

though there's something to be said in that

You. Witness....if you exsist.

You here this exact moment.

Oops again hahh hahh...

accidental!

No poise, no Grace

No words can get me from then to now.

This exact second.

oops again whats goin on

Last early autumn - another gorgeous stoppin on the horizon.

Another perfect no more shame

Another stop

ANother off yer fuckin high horses and... just be

That had worked, especially with her the great beauty

(not capitalised - only one gets the real GB treatment)

I mean harmony fuckin hairspray my trousers

That was not possible.

But lets get serious. this will not be.

But do it.

Of course every moment of true fear

true wonderation at our gatheration

mine

for her

only 

As always.

A dream

Mad

get on yer old bike

head on why not

fight fight fight and sneer

but be thine self...

what self when there is no self it was gone years ago

a husk a silly notion a silly memory of  someone once silly enough to loop his aeroplame middle of

Carribean sea nothing else to do but turn it up in the then Walkman

"this is the apex... there cannot be anything more.."

And that ship i once saw all a burnin.... seemed to fit.

Anyway lets not be too Richard Bach about this because there is the Hollywood version

And the real.

Them.

Oh my.... four of them...so dispirate

so surely explosive to gatherate together.

And then within just a few weeks, not for me

only for them. It just

Worked....

Even Ludvico could not compose even five minutes of it in five hours of Nuvole the extended version

With Upshaw or Elis Regina as perfect interpreter rather than the more perfect less well known.

Novemeber...ok out of year, until.... but by Marco we did it

 

the really heavy version but same net effect - all our rumpuses and fights and worries...nothing

Because by Marco

god the smiles on that young woman's face

I never knew such 

bliss.

And her friends

And then mine even if i am cheating as mine was February. Midwinter. Srong sunshine up high

with them,

How did that happen!?

That's what i had wanted ten years ago.

T'was impossible.

Anyway i shall spoil it

Now

BY even writing one more word.

Because it - was done. Just done. No one else did. I did.

But it was  a silly dream and embarassing fantasy i hardly shared

T'was for her

It did not need to be for her

because i just learned so much.

Not pious-learned, earest learned nuthin.

Real learning.

Depth.

Deepest possible depth.

Deepest possible why the fuck not.

There is no more not.

There is only we did.

But it was not for

Me

Of course not

Until, and talk about many to copy in.

BUt you really know before anyone else except her

The ringmastered sidekick Non Byronic sis

"i cannot....yet open it.."

But i can open this because even if she will never know

well she might it seems 

who knows

because in fact I never before really knew what that word meant

But now live it

Cos the impossible, worked.

But not one smart arse bit o' cynic  nor boo....

nor mixed up confusion.....

cos i just proved one simplest ever thing.... and thus can die. Now....

 

 

Anyway, sorry, 'reader'....

 Not that anyone can.

As i told her last night - errata evening, as country folk go to bed very early so they can savour each new morn....

No fuckwits even up and watching the plasma screens yet.

And every new morn is, well...

I do find it extraordinary who it is so easy to forget, to them, seemingly major events.

To be extricated "you watch my dog now..." from there. Oh bliss.

Never in 27 years - yes it must be.... that fateful moment nearly. 

GFate what a childish word, along with 'karma'.

That's an interesting 'typo'.

GF....

I assume a man.

He got good, too.

But i was true

"i sit in my jaloppy listening to episode eight it has become so gorgeous and subversive...

"in that was no one seems to understand any more, is 'god'... small g"

And so, in truth, there are about five maybe more "master keys"...

Hilary with his old man hair dyed to look as if he had gone back thirty years;

Deabating with god Lee....

oh how sweet he can be i love him!

No not the one married someone thirty years younger,

the one who 'let go' and despite

More or less inventing string theory

Changing his mind...."pants".

And letting go - letting out his inner zany scientist

And pained thinker.

God i love him

And he leaves space in his new dimensions for

god - if were in French i would say god (f) as i told at last

The man who is dying in such Facebook glory

of

cant and vanity.

"listen only a female god can have such a devious sense of humour

"listen, if they are right and as Lee god states between tics or wistful sighs

"there may be eighteen other dimensions before our eyes

"in my book the fuckjobs of two thousand years ago 

"odd..

" and if i were a babe i would demand for the next two k we are diety....

"our turn, dickheads...

"But Ian....

" I am the greatest of all ultra skeptics, well unless sat afront here - Her pad...

"How did i know she would come cycling by.... my opressor...in her yellow jacket....bossing us - errata them, so...

"cos i fell in love with nher then and then...

"just a few weeks ago she stopped..oh glorious 'stopping' none will do no more....

"Ian mate five years ago i had a plan for you..

"you once had a spirit...

"and then they paid you to broadcast it; and of course they wrung you balls dry and 

"well the net result is dying all you can do is come and 'give thanks' here....

"where these fuckin hippos did not even manage to have an outdoor food bank...

"all those billions still in the bank....

"But Mister fatman, and had my plan

"had they left me time...

"them, i elevated the godhead ...

"in so many speeches to my friends the ' self pitying death cultists'

"as i was as usual that day Ian a few years ago moving on from as my form of standard greeting.... that always Ian

"gets a smile.

"that is a MAN Ian....

" a lost child stands there and tells me i am a cunt for ofending them....

"my friends....

" i trust....

"one of those so called SPDCs .... 'cunt'-me

"trusted, Ian with my substitute replacement children, i love....

"my 'ferrits'.... 

"no one else ever except the one you too destroyed and you know you did as she was the answer....

"exactly to Thomas Moore's blueprint five n'abiyt centuries ago...

"o one especially your kind has ever been ytrusted to care for...

"my 'ferrits' to quote yet another time was

ter..

"that is called an action rather than your fake words..

"BUt fatman i plan

"ed, before you got fatter and dying

"to help you - challenge you

"to loose it....

"because you were once good and still today i shall show them a once great mind and seditionist...

" so all is left Ian now you are so far gone

" and camnot pass it on - because that's the 'deal' i figured

"we must not...

"Ian there is something...

"more

"period"

("oh its as if Woman's Hour doesn't know we haven't only just invented them..." and she responds "vaginas" ... with a smile....and then....and then....oh what an 'and then'...)