Blue bottle

The month of the Taurus has just begun. Now I’m pointlessly smitten with something elusive – a star sign that I adore. At least this feeling navigates me towards hope and other lovely things while deep, deep inside I simply don’t care. I’m trying not to pay attention to this negativity.
Apathy on holiday or rain on hold.
Despite the beauty I see, I can’t help feeling attracted to Houellebecq’s obscenity, Ellis’s grotesque and Gallo’s spite.

How can you be so oblivious to beauty?

I’ve been doubting existentialism a lot these days. Can you really be who you want to be? Anyway I’m not heading to determinism. If we are all driven by psychology, then I’m afraid the soul is a little stronger and there is nothing that we can do about it.

I had another freaky hypnagogic experience and this time it was sexual. I was close to falling asleep on my stomach when I felt kisses on my neck. He said something, too, but I don’t remember the words. The whole experience of simulated warmth was ruined by my speculating of who it could be. I was still lying on my stomach, letting the caress happen. There is a high probability that I’d let out a loud moan in the real world, I don’t know.  I was caught somewhere in between. My hand glided towards his crotch. Judging by the size of it, I knew it was neither of the two that I knew. My fear was ruled by the thought that it was him anyway and even before I wanted to find out, I twisted the dream into something else.
Just like that.
Like a keystroke.
I don’t trust dreams, you see.

I was asleep and I saw Saturn floating on water. A plausible image if you think about the planet’s low density. Or maybe Poseidon is merciful with his fat father.

I was looking at fat kids on the train the other day. Their mother was heavy, too, which already indicated that she didn’t care the slightest about health, especially the health of her children. They received their daily amount of crisps without having to ask for it.
The kids, mouths full of crisps, were smiling at me and I smiled back. They thought I found them cute while all I thought about was bouncing balls and the fact that in five years time they’d be 3 times the size that they were now. The thought of glutamate, “Schlacken” and other chemical substances in the body made me feel sick. Her daughter still looked fairly pretty, but let’s not go deeper into this, because in five year’s time it’ll be different. I was also imagining how their mother would devour them after discovering that her children, in future, will cause her fall. Fat children will avenge.

London is a rubbish dump. How else have the flies become so monstrously fat? ‘Blue bottle flies’ sounds rather nice, as if it was another species. If they carry on feeding on our dirt like that, they’ll be feasting on us one day. One day when they’re 1000 times the size that they are now.
Blue bottle flies – it sounds like your favourite kind of Vodka.

Do I really mean what I blog these days or have the writing become entirely fiction, you reckon? I don’t even see the point.

Blue bottles – also known as Physalia Utriculus – look like blue dildos, poisonous dildos.

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