pre-b

Chez Birchski
-a story of discovery-

You would arouse me the way you like Gigi, I have never liked your shoes anyway. He has always been way too retro for a man like me who rips modernity as a term and surely would like to give an other name to what is contemporary; it is me. J. Abes Delavore - call me Skittles, would you?

House; today. I am destined to take a mirror day off. I may allow myself a necessary check-up, a mirror day. Then Frau would cry out loud; arbeite, bitch, arbeite!...The mirror. Here we are once again, I want to touch the freezing glass maybe that could be the satisfaction -a sexual one- that was promised to me in some sort of bible. I won't look into your eyes, don't touch me with your eyes just because I am naked. That could be considered as a rape. But he touches! Stomach ache? Oh, wait! My dick is just hard. Nonsense, this is bestiality. I might as well walk a little and think of my dead aunt in order to hide this shame zone. Walk down the hall.

Then comes the coffe... or the tea? Lord knows how hard it is to be a pisces. All those choices to make, I almost feel like Jesus Christ. Don't you? Sometimes? So whenever I feel divine like that, I call Gigi. I feel Gigi. Gigi tells me what to do and how to do. Doesn't demonstrate a lot, but he sure knows whether to drink darjeeling or jaipur. Me, I only thought of mixing them once. It didn't taste that good. So I prefer to gigi this situation.

I mustn't listen to music when I call him, turn this off. Better dress up, I remember once when I have been accused by a certain Lulu of being a pervert and having a continuous need for corporal exhibition. But I love corporals, soldiers, captains, lieutenants and all that parade. A walk of pride, it is! Isn't it?

-Gigi! You must help me, is it jaipur or darjeeling today?
-Skittles, it is almost noon what have you been doing the whole morning? It is too late for both.
-Really? I think I was overanalysing some important stuff in my head. You know, the usual colpobolezza catolica chéri.
-Oh, this sounds divine. Tell me, did you try the LSD that I gave you? Pancho guaranteed to me that it would bring god from your ceiling down to your floor. I mean, who could have thought?!? God, stuck in the cement of your ceiling. Spanish men are really cultivated. I'd love to have a down-to-earth god, wouldn't you like that?
-That sounds absolutely new age. I stopped being new age at the age of 13 honey. Let's talk about tea Gigi, I really can't choose.
-Listen Skits, I recommend you drink un peu de thé des amants. It really soothes you.
-Well, ok if you say so. Priss says « mrgul » to you, do you two have a secret language or what?
-No, we just happen to understand each other.
-Without words?
-Yes, why not?
-I don't care what you two are up to just tell him to stop the frottage!
-That'd be « brguru »
-Whatever!
-Ciao Skits
-Babay Gigi.

Today I will wear my green boxer. Don't you know that green is good for supporting enviromentalism? I won't even mention how the colour is way too on courant. I have no preoccupation or such to dress myself up à la mode but I love my legs, they deserve a lot more than I do. I know it might sound pretentious, shallow, filled with voluptuous connotations but it is the leg that does the trick for me. Sad parts of body, they suffer. Unfortunately they tire themselves up. Greeks, the ancient ones, loved legs. Haven't you seen Apollo's finely shaved, thin, bronzé legs in a leather sandal? He is so fucking awesome. I mean, his legs.

Priss, oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you? What could possibly all that purr purr and frottage mean? I am not even talking about the grol grol, his sounds are utterly senseless. I am very disappointed in you young siamese twat. Besides whenever polish jazz echoes through the halls of my flat and of my life as well you could hear him sing if you have been a good kid all throughout the year of course...

Ja i ty
Nocne miasta ćmy
Ty i ja
Dziwne miasta dwa

I know this, it is ćmy. Just like a random acquaintance. Say hi then. Go on, don't be shy. Just like my old neighbour in fact, he used to talk to his plants... Such a lovnly man. This is for lonely people who are forced to be lovely, which is leur destiny. Their. I said « their » ok? They just have to equalize their souls, their lives. As a result in my eyes men with weakness, handicap who certainly are filled with fear are to be loved. Loved all over.

I am not working today. Leave your hopes at the door. I am not working for a better place to live, not working for a better community to breathe in, not working. Broken and feeling. Broken BUT feeling. How many days under the shades of your dream have I spent? How many lighthearted volatile love words have you shared? Believe me. You didn't. Some day I will find what you use to see the world from a perspective that is distorted, that is so centered, that is not yet real but concentrated on a single thing. Coitus.

Out of place, into my eyes in mirror once again. Old Mrs. Hangelsan always reminded me of the importance of keeping a good eye contact with the customer. She said,

-It's written in their eyes, their wish. You just can feel it in and fill them a cup of coffee as if it was a dream. Empathy, is the key.
-Leave him alone, Frau! It is his first day, he's a newbie exclaimed Bobo
-Unmoglich, we are not running a starbucks here, we have standards we are Die Jeans Der Gloria, capito Bobo? I don't care about a world in which boys like Skits would end up doing fellatio to strangers, that's why we have coffee houses nowadays... to avoid male prostitution. And I must admit that this job is a delicate and a noble one unlike the others. We serve the community as noble as we can be.
-Have you been reading Memoires of a Geisha again, Frau? It's the fifth time this year, when will you stop imposing litterature on your life?
-When Ich mochte mein Herr, you have to understand the way I am mein Herr.

Birchski was there my first day. All the other days as well.

And he told me;

« You would spread your legs, it'd be like giving birth to a world. A valuable and respectable act of giving your body to me, I mean, sharing. So basically you will spread your legs and inhale insanity, inhale imperfectly against all prayana concepts. You would preferably close your eyes and exhale for me then spread, again. Split. I mean, it's not difficult, really. You can just spread them once and stay that way for a long time. I don't know, read a magazine or something if you are bored. Want to borrow my mp3? As I was saying, then my base chakra would be activated due to continous stimuli caused by your aura and I guess, that's it, I will sodomize you, yes. That's it, that's what we should do. Isn't it the greatest idea ever? Besides it's fun and in the end if you behave we might as well get presents or money for our good intercourse. Who knows maybe you can even become pregnant! Then we can get married or do something similar to that. Some PACS maybe? What do you say? Up for some action? »

In other words, he asked;

Don't trust me but trust your body to me, would you be a perfect sin?

He added as if a promise;

I won't be God, I won't be gone that soon.

He was russian Dr. Birchski, why ski? Because he loved winter and belonged to a group that made some quality chill out music. Nothing like Amon Tobin, more ehnic, more « words and worlds » which I don't understand but that do fascinate me. He looked frightened constantly, because of his fear I assume that he married Mentre Persipalis. That scorpio femme fatale is not somebody to whom you would say enchanté when you first meet. She's a cold hearted raging widow. But I love her s&m ways, she is leather. Born with leather but dénudée par des hommes. Simple revenge? Is that all there is of s&m? No, but I love her eyes. Dreaming of a whip when you were a child? Is that possible Mme Persipalis? Want me to ask that in russian? No, I assume you don't. Have a nice day Mme. Persipalis. Let's drink tea this thursday, shall we? I would be delightened. What? What DID you say Mentre? Are you out of your mind? Tea sessions do not include fisting. That'd be disgusting to do so. No, I do not think your manners are disgusting but I humbly refuse your gentle offer. See you thursday then. Kisses chérie.

It sure was hard to grow middle eastern. Northern eastern? I don't care. He was eastern or somewhere near there. Birchski with henna on his hair and yogi clothes. An abusive mother I would say, a naive father; the birchski family looking like 3 wolves that would conquer the new world in a family photo. Growing into mediterrenaen elite circles, taking their forms. Adapting to their thoughts, changing the most, leaving by side two russian eyes. Fierce and talkative, communicating, piercing, wisdom-less also innocent. This is a psychological case that I guess I have but never had the chance to observe, I give value to insignificant things. I am an adjective machine, serial descriptive personality disorder, SDPD just like Rabelais in fact. Birchski was like that? How was I then? I was awesome in my thirties, walking slowly as if I was going to bump any obstacle or sharp object that'd be in my way I thought it was noble to do so. I am not the kind that waits the prince charming, I'm the kind that the prince who would supposedly be charming would want to be the prince charming, which means I was the prince charming. Well, not that much in fact. I had gained a little bit of weight and my leather pants wouldn't fit me. But I still had the cool looks and I knew that I could pitch every teenager fag in the house. That's why I was slyly smiling in their eyes. Fool's day. Not april fool's but everyday fool's day. This is today, yesterday and now and then the future.



It is when people starved sex that arose love and co. Commitment, devotion, togetherness, couples, marriage, fairy tales, success stories live on the pangaia of sex. Happiness visits the island frequently but not a habitué of some sort, he just comes here for the orgies and cheap champagne.

All my friends were smiling with teeth brushed and bleached regularly, some of them porcelains. Not as friends, but as teeth of friends made of porcelain. Otherwise they are all like dolls, not forced to be porcelaine. I do feel like a collectionist from time to time. Not the producer, just the keeper of a few girly dolls. I can be the shelf, I can be my shelf... Nevertheless I can't be myself. With them especially, isn't it just too cliché? Wearing masks and all that stuff, make-up metaphores and scene related stories, that's more than familiar, that's life, that's the truth that we all admit. But since that day back in my childhood in which I found out an article about the french escargot, I believe that the most accurate metaphore for this situation wouldn't be the « the social chameleon » or « the jumping monkey » but only « the inside snail ». If we just forget about me for a moment and try to talk about you, we would be loosing the mainstream of the story. I know, I don't say particularly anything about you guys and by listening only myself my ego has just tripled its size but I know that this is not real. Communication is not real however I think that the ego is concrete but I still have so many doubts on that subject so no final verdict, find it out yourselves. Communication as an instrument is not real, that's not the way we do it. We; referring to humans. So why the snail? Because whatever the intensity or the rarity of the occasion rising the interaction just remains outside of your shell. Wherever you go, whenever you talk, whenever you listen or whenever you just walk away from them, ignoring the fact is that nothing in the world can reach you %100. There is always a loss due to friction, just like the energy. Vectors of people are their words, slovos would say Burgess but it's rather vulgar. I am inside, not intel inside, vulgar, snailish escargotesque mais pas grotesque. Processor-like life forms may shy away from me, now, remove yourself from my head you filthy idea. Now get a higlighter and underline the words you might see a message hidden or something;

Ego is the only main reality that leads to communication with another reality, another ego. In human interactions that would reach to an orgasm through friction and energy spent, that would be guided by the vector of penis which is vulgar which is inside me and which is filthy. See. I do talk about sex. You just can't see it.



My job at the coffeehouse consisted of serving middle class orgy groups some pre or post-orgasmic joy in the pure form of nicotine. Cigarettes, anyone? Coffee? Me, I don't live in Orgyville, not even close dear. I do believe that I live in an orgyland, that has nothing to do with it, does it? Life sounds like a rollercoaster ride in an amusement park in orgyland, entrance fee? I don't know dear. I guess you just have to be born. This is the price you pay for entering the 10 meter tall walls that surround our world. Here, dear, people eat pink fluffy foodlike things, but they don't take your hunger away. It is just an attraction, like everything else that has been going around. Candyman, sugardaddy, whichever pleases you dear. Wanna ride? So, who's serving the orgies today?




For 8 weeks 5 days and a couple of hours I have been alone. How do you want me to love someone else? I've been talking to myself in my head, sometimes singing, caressing myself with thoughts, taking a bath alone, eating without company... Why do you want me to seek a partner? Why do you expect me to crave and masturbate? I never needed to. I did it because it was fun and it gave me pleasure. Never, mister, never screw with my definitions. Never, mister, never have sex just because it is fun. Personally speaking, I can't enjoy life neither would i approve of somebody else doing it. Perfectly puritan. Has anybody wondered why we were in a perpetual quest for distraction and amusement as if we had nothing else to use to strangle our daily boredom with.

Alvin came to see Priss one day. He was miserable, in need of doux effleurements and some sentimental ronron sessions. It appears that his greek stallion, a poor artist that used way too much red in his paintings was sexually « incompatible » with him. I asked him why this was a problem, not because I believed that a relationship can be handled without sex in complete monogamy but just because I wanted the shameful information in depth in order to recycle in gossip enviroments. Recycling is fun! You should try that, Joanne. As usual Alvin would start his absurd theatre monologue which would totally be irrelevant but could still be considered as a sheer symbolic poetry of 21st century post-productive generations.

Passive means insatiable. The more you give, the more you shrink. You are not a shrink but the more you shrink the more it is harder to fill the hole. The hole is physical, existant, there! Like the bullseye. But the people of the hole are far worse. Once you get in, you can't get out.

As he talked I imagined of a new religion rising. A new sect of an old one would do as well but visualize priests worshipping a big black hole; symbol of life, family, protection and anus. « We want the whole, we want the hole, we just happen to lack a whore tonight, I don't remember what Marcia wore last night but she was tight, so howl! Howl my friends of the hole, united in front of the core. » The preacher ended his discourse as I took a sip from my coffe and started sodomizing one by one the followers, fertility rituals, you know. My theme seemed to be more valuable than just another Ring movie, but not as developed as Tolkien's. I was a bit jealous.

As he talked I imagined butterflies filling the world and a musical act faintly appeared in my mind. Slow sounds then more sounds, penetrating the souls as if they were trying to get to know each other, shaking hands and joining. Dissolving in extreme measures maybe lost is the right adjective, maybe I do feel lost. In time and in space, of contradictory ideas and love one single artifact of power has left. It is for you Rolando to get it back to me. I may die but remember me. Write some kind of lore that the lorekeeper would pass on to his daughter then write a book about this and call it the daugther of the lorekeeper, have some audio support, put it online, I want that ready by tomorrow. That's all gentleman, you may leave the room now. I am glad to have this communal project accepted by all of our comittee members, you would be hearing of us shortly. This would be the a new dawn of sexuality. It is going to be like 60's but more elegant and boozed.


All times are GMT +1. The time now is 08:27 PM.


























































i regret.
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i believe that people have souls
the same applies to fashion
the human soul finds its expression in fashion
the general on courant is nothing but a vain and restricted approach to that domain

first find your soul.
then your body...
cover it with care!
because it is more fragile than you may ever imagine.
this, my friend, is called the style.

so when i see a guy 19 years old dressed in a suit
i ask myself the question; is this the real you? do you really have to be this way?

you have imitated your parents, ok
you wanted to grow up, ok
you wanted to be posh, ok

and again;

what kind of a person wants to grow up?
who wants to imitate the others?
who craves for material possession?
who seeks fame?

certainly;

one who is not yet grown up
one who has no individuality
one who has no satisfaction in material possessions
one who never had fame

well, then who are you?

_________________________________________________
i would love to listen to ravi shankar and make love
try some operas with sex they really excite you
i want each and every one of my senses to be touched when having sex
from touching to hearing
seeing to feeling
smelling to tasting
and the forgotten one; loving.

a great sensualist knows how to become a gourmet
so i am a bit picky when it comes to sex partners

it is not the muscles that do the trick
it is something else
my dreams do ejaculate me
and i believe that it is the highest potential of a man to be able to seed dreams in a human being
not to seed sperms.
because sperms wouldn't probably grow
but the dreams will...

and in a vast land of imagination and fantasy
we could at least find a peace of mind
this is my promised land

in my bible.
in my bible of love.

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cours d'anglais a volonté
pratique et amélioration garantie!!!
score de toefl ibt 111 sur 120 lol

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i never meant to go
i never meant to fall but i'm only gone
i never meant to go i'm only gone inside my own
some day i'll wake you
some times i'll wait for myself
some day i'll hold you through
tonight i'm alone to go high
tonight i'm alone to go high
tonight i'm alone to go
in state of confusion you made an illusion
state of confusion you made an illusion
it is exciting to be away
feeling you all inside of me
i'm standing here but i'm really gone
you see me as i go
you've been precious to me
i've been blessed in the way
but now i'm falling i'm inside