Random thoughts

[Sepia]

Did we strive for the end when we were on the outside, when our focus was there- This feels familiar, like a carpet you felt before you can remember but something echoes as we stroke it, hazed in a world seen through the blood dripping from our eyes. I wanted to change something once but I forgot what as I grew further from the point of origin, the point where I began, where we started. A thickness is upon my fingers as the world turns to autumn first but then quickly pacing towards the winter, the cold is here and already in the air

The slantyeyed whore is on her feet and we're in limehouse and it's a hundred years in the past and we watch her through our recovering process, with our last pennies we try to drink away the reality seeping into the cracks that was made during the night. Tomorrow is a new hustle, a new deal or steal before we end in their dens again, giving them most of what we have while we save the coins for when we wake up and some of us are dead men and we understand the custom and we appreciate it and when we truly die, if the ferryman has not claimed his prize, we will be sitting in shitty places like this then too, thankful that we can get our bearings as we drink.

We carry cases for the chinamen, bags of rice, buckets of sake. There is dreadnaught in the harbour and on its' side is a big dragon and we ask of this ship and the yellow bastards smile at us while they crack the whip. We go to die in their dens and we emerge days later, not refreshed, not-

A head filled with red hair and green eyes, staring at me, smiling at me, wondering if we want the twelve nine or seven courses and we go all in as we sit in the sun and drink champagne, eating mouth amusers as they hit us, weird but working tastes and sensations and we do not feel refreshed, it is new but for us it's getting old, thinking out of the box from every fucking chef that spent five months at el bulli, flooding the market with your cheap replicas and knockoffs and you prove bukowski right where you wander filled with form but void of spirit but I know there is a question but you'll never know the answer, who sleeps awake in the sunken city of R'lyeh?

You are pale men and while they say it's something it's not, the stars don't matter, there are no artists in the culinary world and those few that could be are individuals, not collectives, they are da vincis of our age, like all jobs have and you were born someone else, someone worse and in the next life you will become a cockroach and as humanity withers away in a nuclear winter you thrive.

We were vying for them when we came triumphant and we knew they were in our reach but fate, always fate, intervened. We were carrying our kind upon our backs and we were lost on the land of chaos, old men gathered here with us in the sensation of the twilight hours. We felt impotent and powerless, children without a thought or a fate, headed for betrayal and we truly felt like betraying ourselves and we would, we would sacrifice ourselves on the altars of our time, a contemporary ritual to end ourselves completely

We are here with you, we've always been here with you- thoughts are sundered under the great sun but still we do not yield, there is a fire awakened in every man's eyes since the flying god returned and fell and we stand next to his tomb and we contemplate the meaning, were you ever here with us? Arcadia holds many dreams. Do we progress, build on the ideas and concepts born so many years ago or do they restrict us, as persons and never as any form of organization which is all just organized crime. Everything moves with us, all feel the movement at the docks outside

It was in paris we found heaven, the city of light, the silver city, the radiance overwhelming us as our minds collapsed in on them selves, imploding with realization and understanding- a neural sort of fallout, hope fading and slipping twixt us. Ozymandias found that kingdom, the gates we see when we close our eyes before sleep finds us, the state where you are not awake but still not unconscious, the twilight(a word soon ruined) of states. Of dreams we live in a world but in that moment we are shown the world. Flesh is crafted in this day for food, not yet harvested from vats but we have now with the backing of the new god, science, done what the most decadent before us has, save killing for entertainment. Anyone can make a cockatrice of sorts with frog legs and the upper body of a hen, goose, chicken etc. and some transglutaminase.

There is a man in the mountains, he's building a timemachine. One day he will build it and he will load up his place apocalyptic survival style and he'll go into the past with a gun and he'll shoot someone around both crucial and non-important and he will have memorized what happened during those exact events in case the books themselves changed. When he came back he wrote down all differences, evaluated, analyzed, calculated and found no coherency in the information, no matter how many times he tried, the world didn't change like that, not for one man.