the tempo of doms

to the sweetie shop why stop there’s no consequence 

i run and i come as close as i’ve came since whence,

rage rover through the stroll pastoral 

cape town to mugdock bog, 

wide spectrum gossip, conspiratorial 

prone to panic about other’s perceptions

a tendency revealed through a habit of projection 

concept album? i am living a concept life

into the tempo of doms i go, abandon strife

the internal rhyme rolls the rhythm, through indecision to precision

yes i am getting organised, on a mission

to rise up contra to mindless repetition

yet once again i combine olive oil, chilli and paprika in the kitchen

back in the mid life crisis phase, one thing that happened that partially led to my initial interactions with the medical industrial complex, was that i unexpectedly lost a load of weight for no particular reason. i’ve been fit and active for most of my life, but i’d never had visible abs. then suddenly, i couldn’t maintain my weight. it was a bit scary at first but by this stage i was more thinking well i may as well just eat sweeties whenever i want.

i do try and eat healthily but i’m still lazy and i require daily treats. and i think i have gained a bit of the weight back now. i stopped weighing myself and the problem became less stressful. it doesn’t make any sense, but i can’t waste my life looking for the answers to absolutely everything can i?

iceberg lean-to

i construct and unscrew, 

mucky pup grana podano iceberg lean-to

banana brought to the monkey puzzle tree party

interoception fails me, intercepted daily 

life in general is supremely () based

release back lever,

push the back backwards 

and it pings back forwards

yeah i’m bringing back sexy back

i was helping my girlfriend with some diy, mainly just getting in the way and slowing things down. we took a break and went for pizza on v. rd. very good pizza. the best in town. and for a side we got an iceberg grana padano lean-to. it wasn’t really a lean to. it was more of a pavilion of lettuce in a snowstorm of cheese. i took poetic licence.

then i read a sentence in a book about autism that said life in general is supremely socially based, which i laughed at due to the internet meaning of based.

then i played with my office chair and reflected on justin timberlake.

charge another hour to diary management / you simply must believe the story you tell yourself / (excuse me for hoping to feature so prominently in it

our attachment to reality is not as strong as we believe it is. we live in the permanent now. we can’t really trust out memories. they could be fake. we make plans for a future that we assume will happen, but based on what? all there ultimately is are the sensations we feel and the stories we tell ourselves about them. but, as a practical matter, it is helpful to just believe reality is as you see it. otherwise we’d never be able to brush our teeth and drink our coffee in the morning.

do you believe in reality? do you trust the sun to rise again tomorrow?