Igor

[Ierrellus]

Igor entered the tavern and sat at the bar between two burly men, one of whom blurted out, "You lost?" Remembering he had a heart, he responded, " I may not know the way, but I'm never lost." Whereupon one of the men by him grunted," And you were never found either!"
Igor let the insult pass. He knew better and felt better for knowing someone somewhere was looking just for him. Was it a lady?

[Meno_]

And Igor, who by now had become limp with existential exhaustion, has it not been for hisntolerance to alcohol after Dracula's genes had permeates his with incredible resiliency,
sighed, said this to them:



True loosing everything is almost totally devastating, recovery is almost nil, still there is something to say for the validity of survival and its modicum of benefits.

That such casualness he is purporting to exhibit, displays remarkable gumption.

I will never give up, he announces dramatically, until a breath of air remains in my breast.

With that, he directs the two guys to pay his barbill, which, for being goodfellas they oblige to do, albeit reluctantly.

The dawn reveals the beginning of an orange hue bleeding into the edges of the horizon..and the shadow of a beguiling shrouded woman cast an eery shadow on the tavern bar, reminiscent of noir of the late forties. He fled under a hidden arch, thinking back, going through a list of people he may have tangled with.

The two guys who paid for his drink, shouted over, Next time you pay for Your own drinks bud, or ask Terry to tell the boss to extend credit, he says you've been hanging around the waterfront bars long enough. And as they exclaimed this. Igor leered and turned where the mysterious appearance of the shrouded woman became the focal point of something bizarre and terrifying going on.

[Jakob]

Igor found himself in a hole.
- Damn. Again?
He starts ramming the coffin wall and knows he will get out with reversed gravity and land on top of the Eiffel Tower.
He is so bored with this dream.
He decides to not try to escape, and just turn around in his coffin.
And then.... he sees a passageway. With an anchor in it, gleaming like a pornographic video game abject petit a and much $hine, so hey, he packs the cup and jumps the cusp and just lands there, in the meadow.

Now, a brown cow comes nigh.
- How now, pale sir?
- Well, you must know, I don't talk to cows.
The cow shrugs.
- That is what you say.

[Meno_]

And Igor says good might for iit has been a busy night and he is exhausted for he has become he thinks now behumbled and speechless.

[Fixed Cross]

Igor woke up in a puddle of his own watchamacall it.
Who knows.
He stood in the refrigerated tramcar and went on his way.
Ca-cling said the tramcar
It was Vienna
he awoke
he ate a grape
and went back to bed.

Now, Igor woke again. We wander to the back of the couch where his book lay.
He went to sit agains the law arched windowsill and overlooked the graveyard.
He then read the book, about dinosaurs. He was 3.

He awoke, and went to bed, where he had Candy and she went to bed with him but it was too late they already had a child.
They awoke and she looked at the light streaming in, for it was Christmas.

He awoke, and it was bad timing. It was bed time.

[Meno_]

Ahhhhhj those Viennese Christmases with boys serenading angelic voices they knew he was there no less the Viennese Boys' choir singing stille nacht and she candy darling gobbling a delicious bon bon. They did have the kid but he was strange oh so strange he was outwardly cute with dimples but when he bit her ample bosom spewed blood as his strange
elongated incisors more animal like then any human baby should have ,and Candy shrieked ,thinking to herself that this is more then she should have to tolerate. And Igor eyeing the cemetery for repose.

She should have listened to daddy . she tried to think with her racing mind.

[Meno_]

The Ring. And Igor remained in the dark thinking self destruction may not be a conscious thing with him, he went along on a daily crucifiction routine stealing insignificant worthless junk quite noticeably so they whoever watched him may think he has no way out from the excoriating stab of intrusive looks.

Those became the very thrusts which forged doubt into a presage of quite certainty as it were as venomous as his sexual obsession with calves, and its not that he wasn't an inwardly kind man

He became prolific in focusing that look full understanding among those he thought unforgiving, after all writing with blood his own when not mixed with the unrequited brother, oh no no for givenness there but blood flowed into tears, can not he let go of one who must think , of him, that through no fault of his own compelled to steal others' thoughts and seal it eternally.

And to his chagrin the loop was completed and the circle of love connected. Transfigured, he solemnly accepted a measure of kindness.

[Meno_]

And then the irony he igor thinking that the subtlesess inherent in the crossed wire implication that this was just another computerized senseless anagram. as if it had not been impressed of the near total conversion into the mindless automata that he has become unwary of crossed motives, knowing they were as mindless, but not of lacking of feelings as well, which has benumbed of any reason to short circuit the apparent collection of equally apparent lack of synthesis.

This having been bypassed just recently, it has become obvious to him that it has not yet been correlated nor factored in to the grand scheme of things but give him time and he igor will do so.

He dropped his girlfriend and his child almost as in a hindsight and resolved not to try to beat it meaning his conscience by offering a tribute of a very large diamond of exceptional color and clarity into her whispering fingers.She sought help unheard by no one from the holy mother, as she held on to the baby, and she boarded the bus to Jerusalem.

His eyes traced the ever diminishing size of the bus , leaving a long grey trace of dust on the desert road, and imagined himself as would in the false perception of a cut, a still of a moments capture; as feigning indifference.

No, he thought, that broken, would mean the end of the story.
But that is only a fragment of a look back into their uncertain future together becoming a myth, even before it could approach any kind of real apprehension.

Good by Sifi which was his term of endearment for Sofia , and it was breathed out rather then whispered into the great big deserted sheltering sky.

[Fixed Cross]

The fresh juice he could miss. But not really. But the eggs, no he could really not miss that. It was cold. Cold outside, warm inside, the worst.
So he claimed to be on top of things and went along his way.

A van was parked in a nearby street. He reminded this van.

Trust, he remembered, have trust, in faith.
But a squirrels hoppeth along the vertical line for no vain purpose!!!

The squirrel and the crow they disagreed to agree, I learned, the hard way.

Well, now on to the outside world. Igor met his butcher and had a calf cut up for his grandfathers grave.
As he was burning the sacrifice and pouring wine he learned from the clouds that Socrates was back, and more poison had to be devised.

He stood up from the grave of his ancestor and gorged on a piece of dripping meat, with the wine, it was pretty good and he got into his BMW and went southwards. He then stood before a stoplight in the middle of nowhere where it was hot.

[Meno_]

He thought of his woman in Jerusalem, who had gone for good for a while at least. The sights and sounds of old Vienna sprung out of nowhere, and he skipped hopped from one becket cubicle as if he was still back THERE.

Overcoming no obstacles too large, sheepishly grinning at adversaries formidable and not so, infusing the orange juice making music splendor out of cheap champagne.

And after tomorrow the jet delivers him back off the asphalt jungle into the vapid heat of oriental magicke.

Jerusalem's hills like the olive groves of old Athens, steamy and ludicrous, with hints of upward track, the palace of Cesar high in the hills of Capri, and the mount if olives against Magic Mountain.

Jerusalem of old, the slavery of patrimony, now shrunken phallus athena's woes. Walhalla and Ubersaltzburg, castles in the sky, where spirit enters through the rear, the ass of the world emitting lavender and purification.

Igor sad, sadder, saddest at this time of rejuvenation. Has to re member, or dismember that proud arching desire toward the sun.

[Fixed Cross]

Igor suddenly remembered Peter Schmeichl. Oh man. What a great goalie. What a great athlete. What code that player has. No footballer ever since him. I mean, did the things, for which one is supposed to get all the million. Quality.

Igor snickered as he approached the military plane that had just packed its load. The propellors began to turn as Igor lifted himself into the rear of the rather old fashioned piece of machinery, if you asked him, to perform such duties but maybe it was a decoy. Like camouflage. Use a 55 year old plane to transport 2 billion in cash. Thank god Igor had taken a restroom stop on the mc Donald's on the way. Because to tell you the truth, this was a hell of a operation. You cannot take an elephant on an airplane. But Igor is no elephant. Igor thought to himself.

[Fixed Cross]

Igor checked on his new sports-vehicle and opened and closed the doors. They gave a nice schnock, a heavy thud-like click.
Once in a while he would start the engine and let it run. Look out over the lawn. Dream big.

Most times, he would just be opening and closing the doors, sometimes the trunk. One time, he got into the trunk and was ready to lock himself in there. But there wouldn't be any bumpy ride, no nightly scene in the boonies where he'd get his chance at saving himself -
no, there was no saving himself, not from this car. It was too awesome. He'd have to get a life because of it.

Damn. Damn damn.

He turned the key and let the engine run again. There was no escaping.
The neighbour was staring at him from behind his massive window. Igor felt a strange sensation. He couldn't decide if it was bad or good. So he got out of the car, engine still running, and walked over to his neighbours house....

[Meno_]

Igor was very confused but his confusion was do to his beimg in the trunk while the engine waa running? 'Gads, he thought, so glad I got out in time .

He had a friend , meno, who lost a son that way, and the only way his friend can even begin to think along those lines was to hope it was kind of like a self induced masturbatory exploration. Like the kind that actor of kill bill tried unsuccessfully to pre form for max
Pleasure
No not mad, max fame an almost desultory rejection all along the way, almost this. Almost that, so what he stepped out faux relieved, that by chance he may have his great wish, proven by throwing three sticks in a Buddha temple.

But be as it may, while believing in a wish not open to him, he feels feels it is coming to be, but only at the price of not singular or even double double but triple crucifixion


Now he expected a bolt of lightning or acknowledgment of his resolve, that was unfortunately not forthcoming

So poor Igor , has occupied his daliesq mind with other aesthetic aesthetic preoccupations , such as going back, again a back of uncertain and frankly, preposterous trips into the vast unknown, akin to peeve's great adventure.

That's ok, too, and quoting peeve, you don't have to go to Paris France all you got to so is get an order of French fries
Besides , a more serious thinker, Henry Miller said not.to quote exactly, in Big Sir and the Oranges.of.Hyramius Boch, again loosely quoted, 'you don't have to go to Athens to go there.

And here even more.loosely, Its a State of.mind, stoop/ ID, even though , it is in THE PLAN , coming on Suddenly This Summer.

However the Jungian fear of flying notwithstanding, will cross over to turkey and then on to Budapest again which is a stone's throw away from Vienna.


So maybe Igor can have his wish of sidewalk dining on wienerschnitzel and dark bitter lager, if the oriental muse of mysteries of seven veil fame gives her kind permission.

Igor, please, how can a few whispy whisky laden flimsy gauntlets, silky and flowing covers cause soooooo much misery to a man?

No, there is more to a half then two holes without a punchline.

The alternative is a revisit to the house that - was built on the fortune made by Stanley steamer" guessed it: of shining source.






Though half a super size is better then nothing, he figured, two heads of cabbage is better then one
Don't know where he heard that one may be in a German gulag


Brother you take things seriously or was not in Germany but Vienna he looked forward to going back to something fervent and maybe something quite or somewhat unethical.
no
Now.know.this , it means nothing.to me to ponder or not.about your defeating existential angst, because I'm too preoccupied with mime and even Carleas has.to admit that.workaholics are underpaid while philosophers are overpaid, even if, they do not get a salary


This obvious inference is to signify that.there should be no doubt as to its intended recipient


Yours Truly : Meno quirk a guard

[Jakob]

In the broomcloset in the Eastern Kremlin wall Igor trembled in relief. What had made Bond turn the other way? A little twist of fate or a divine intervention? God only knows if he exists.

[Meno_]

And now the reckoning? Parallelism into bonded features of the absurd, dis not quite popularize because of the work, the croup effort to untangle the myriad possibilities perhaps?

Gertrude Steins rose is like Picasso's women, or even a castle hidden away in the Dracula lair, oh my oh my, can it be so blatant as to protect her adversary , one who stares unto the left handed side, without really not trying awfully hard not no not hold on so he will be flung down head first?

Well not to Bram to go this time because it is a phony tourist trap, but to the south , from the pleasure palaces of Vienna to the south the birds of feather fly south to, the Lawrence cocks flying South for the winter, of which Allen knows so well before kicking his bucket, .

No Vienna belvedere is like a parallel with trumping angels just before hitting the upper layers of paradise, the similarity is astounding as of fates were bound, as of brothers but for the fact pdntje absence of a platform from which all of them cam not be accounted for , especially the flying South, from a winter of discontent from this son, chasing it , and no respite.

Away the rigidity of which N warned , for the summer , where all be shown only as a reflection, a reflectionupon a canvas of discontent, where upon that becomes only light shut into an indomitable likeness that grabs and hurls into a vastly underestimated underground.

To Mohacs then where Suleiman the Magnificent killed the most Holy King,
defender of Christ, and later falling before the gates of Vienna.

No the vampire has.to wait. Pressburg:

Maria Theresa Herself, tightly holding her newest babe to an ample bosom , keeled before brave Hussars, to save Vienna from the onslaught .

Be as it may, Igor carried on bravely as did Prince Myshkin of tale so faire, the idiot, the fool on the hill knowing never redemption come his way biting the bullet of the wandering/wondering.

After this the defensive orgy of self , lost to eternal hopeful rebuilding into the other. He don't have an alias they said before crossing into the Croatian being of state. Worrisome of done onnneer budget , appealing to the strangeness of kindness.

[barbarianhorde]

The crazy evil had Igor spinning for decades but he finally retired in a salsa with it and just rode it home to the night and put it to sleep. You gotta do what a mans gotta do man, he said to his dog.

New day he woke up, but he was smiling. The Sun wasn't even up and he had to go to the bathroom. He read a newspaper which said that he had won. He did the whole bowel movement thing and then read some more news. He then pressed the toilet and disappeared in the shitstorm.

Igor was a fine man. He broke no laws cause he knew none. It was impossible but Igor didnt know it, so it ended up being done. The bliss given to the wise ones when they stand alongside a baby who ipsignorant, it is mayonnaise to your butter, it is caramel for a sabertooth.

[Arcturus Descending]

Igor woke up and went to the window and looked out. "It is going to be a harsh, rainy day" he thought but as he continued to look out, he suddenly became quite excited about the idea of taking a romp around his grounds. "After all", he thought to himself, "I will probably be the only one out walking on a day like today". "Oh, how I love my solitude. Oh, how I love the aloneness of walking in the rain even such as it is today. It is wild and forceful and brings me back to my very own nature. At times I feel as though I own the world though I do realize that I do not." Then Igor smiled out at the rain as a man would smile at his lover. "I will be with you soon" Igor said, enamored with the moment.

So Igor began to bundle up, nice and warm and cozy-like. He knew that an umbrella would do him no good. He even laughed at the thought of it. "I am a man. I am no sissy. An umbrella? HaHaHa. Let the deluge come!"

So then Igor walked outdoors. He felt so alive in the rain. How he so loved the sound of the thunder. It was as though it was calling to him, greeting him. He was aware that it was another aspect of his nature even though he knew that he was not so much the diamond but the diamond in the rough and he also knew that he would probably always be just that diamond in the rough. "All the more opportunity to be transformed" he thought to himself with a silly grin on his face.

As Igor walked on and on in his bliss, he remembered a few weeks ago in that warm, inviting cafe where he sat with his friend, Freddie Nietzsche. It had been so good to see Freddie again after the months and months when he had been away. They drank their hot toddy. "Boy, can my friend ever pack them away" Igor remembered. He remembered Freddie telling him that he was celebrating something but that he could not tell him what it was even though he had tried to coax him into telling him.

Igor did recall one thing that his philosopher friend had told him which resonated within him at the time. Igor knew that Freddie also loved to walk ~ and walk ~ and walk ~ just like Igor himself. His friend loved to walk for hours. It fed his soul, his mind and so many ideas came to him while he was on the move. He remembered Freddie telling him that he would bring paper and pencil with him and when an idea popped into his mind, he would quickly write it down, put it back in his pocket and continue walking on. "Walking is one of the most wonderful ways in which to relax and at the same time, to work, especially to work, my fine friend", Freddie told him. He told him that he had actually written a book in that way but try as he might, Igor could not remember the name of the book.

Just the thought of that great evening with Freddie warmed him and caused more bliss to stir within him.

"I cannot, for the life of me", Igor thought, "understand why people do not like to be out walking in the rain." "It is exhilarating and cleansing and cathartic for the psyche and the body." Igor in that moment of thought raised his hands to the heavens and shouted "Bring it On!" "Bring it On!" "Bring it On!"

"Oh Damn!" Igor thought to himself. I forgot my little notebook ~ "but I will not be telling Freddie this the next time I see him" he thought to himself with a sheepish grin. Then Igor walked up a hill, called Serenity Hill" on one side and then down the same hill on the other side. He walked along the brook and thought of fresh flowing water which made him think about fresh flowing thoughts and he giggled. "Men are not supposed to giggle" which made him giggle again in defiance of that absurd thought.

Much later on, Igor returned home, lit a fire and curled up with his cat, Yoda, and went to sleep. Yoda just loved to spoon Igor but Igor would have been quite upset had he known this.

"HaHa", thought Yoda. "What he does not know will not hurt him" and Yoda smiled like the Cheshire cat but his smile faded into a soft bliss-like curl. Meow!

[barbarianhorde]

And the rain kept pouring through the night.
Igors soul was restored like a cabbage eaten in rewind.
A girl cried in the rain, there were still so many lessons, and so many ne'er to be learned...
but one thing was sure. The acres were no longer suffering. And so Igor fell into a deep and well deserved sleep.

He dreamt of Vigor, on his horse out of the POW camp, and then the dream went into the pattern on the flag. But in the meantime, a green caterpillar with venomous spikes was born in one of the trenches that were forming by the violent downpour.

At one point there was music. Igor woke up for a cup of tea, but he never remembered it because it was too absurd. As he came down the windig stairs he saw a stranger sitting at he kitchen counter. The stranger was of course the caterpillar, and the night premonition something with patterns of colour, a flag perhaps.

[Meno_]

Igor felt totally alone and tried to legitimize it by rethinking his life.He became an early drinker of late and reminded himself of the idyllic late night bar eons ago called cat on a pillar or was it ? Scratching his head on disbelief he saw the creature slowly edging up unto the bed post with bleary eyes he caught it as if he had transformed into a big litter of cat
With blood shot gaze and the terror of it filled with gaze of him who had abandoned him a long time ago when he was still abiding in the park with the tree come a painting, but that being a long time ago and he let go of the fearsome creature who really was getting nearer, the internal hubris of electric anesthesia produced in his innards slowly transformed into a deep sleep.

He was being eaten by the creature, his innards showing already parts of him being consumed with considerable gusto. He got mad and tried to awake. with some very hard physical jerks , but this time it was harder. The jerk became a boring push against his bottom as he tried to push the creature out and sensed the creature's mendacity and furious shriek in the night trying to get out from under his own bowels.

Reality is its own trap he thought , and it always tried.to go inside not realizing how insides were trapped as well in a.bizarre twist of reality bend.
This was am inverse moebius posture being the Thing's own parent he thought and the last Jerk gave a pronounced will to go back on and them back out again , by what effort he thought was his own volition.

The birthday party went well and that push he became unto his own: mom and dad, and he saw them dividing cell like, the eye where the ear should have been, and it began to swim cell like from the sea, aquamarine , emerald and azure shades by reefs splendidly bowing to the rhythm of.the jerk, into the plastic placidity . They , after a very long discussion named him Janus, and Igor was fascinated by his baby brother.

[barbarianhorde]

Igor was like, not giving a fuck but still he gave a fuck for his tomato juice and that it tasted right, so he added some pepper and salt and stuff, and then he drank it slowly peering outside to the folk getting in and out of their cars seeing if no irregularities were happening.
When the juice was up he put down the glass with a thud from which spoke determination but not really an angle, or a purpose.
He did have a purpose but it was under the skin, under the brain, under the hide. He did not know the purpose. Thats the best kind of purpose.
You cant get in the way of it. By a faulty comprehension of powers or self. Self is a multiplicity as the man had said whose book was lying wrinkled aside the now quite filthy pool where ducks might as well have been fed by a mafiosi. But they hadnt. There were no ducks here.

So Igor stepped outside overlooked the entire situation. It had dissipated, the comings and goings has calmed and there was only a soft breeze tickling him for further possibilities.
Only he didnt know it. He just felt pleasant.

[barbarianhorde]

It was that time of the year. When Igor had to prepare for the Great Visit.
He had to make everything right for her, put on the favoured poets, light the one candle he possessed, aka his soul.
But now she Knocked and he trembled and shuffled the table into pieces. Everything collapsed. In his mind. He opened and she said oh you have such a nice place. He concurred. He looked back to see it through her eyes. What he saw was so obvious.

[Meno_]

And it blew his mind, for when she came in, she surprised him by her looks, she looked so different from what he was used to see say a decade or two ago, sadly, he lost touch with her .

And had she looked at herself as he saw her, this is what she may have seen:




https://images.app.goo.gl/rRX7gNN2bQrQxvtN9



What happened to the plastic fantastic lover he loved? She attained merely one feature: PLASTIC , only plastic.


https://youtu.be/yymN3Ouzz7o

[Jakob]

Igor snapped out of a dream about latex puppets which he was sure he hadn't really been having. He vomited, filled a glass of hot water and salt and let it run through his mouth as if it was some nice whiskey. Resting his hands on the sink for a while, leaning forward, breathing, wondering where that filthy plastic had entered his mind. He almost fell asleep standing there and woke up by nearly falling down and causing some cling clanging of the pots and pans. He then put on his socks and went to sit on the couch, staring at the black window into the night which he invited to stare back into him.

[Meno_]

Igor snapped out of a dream about latex puppets which he was sure he hadn't really been having. He vomited, filled a glass of hot water and salt and let it run through his mouth as if it was some nice whiskey. Resting his hands on the sink for a while, leaning forward, breathing, wondering where that filthy plastic had entered his mind. He almost fell asleep standing there and woke up by nearly falling down and causing some cling clanging of the pots and pans. He then put on his socks and went to sit on the couch, staring at the black window into the night which he invited to stare back into him.

As he did, a faint glow began to show at the edges of the whimsical frame.-working it's way toward the blackness of his orbs, thinking that the darkness of them was not the result of the deep stare, but had a blackness of it's own.

As his yet sleep ridden eyes looked for the anticipated dawn, the birth of the eye of the tiger , who was really HER, the vision of beauty , now reduced through the year, of a cat, the green eyes of the monster of whom years ago he would vouch for body and soul.

She remembers his brother , the duplex extraordinaire, who actually tried to stop her from such absurd and strange regenerecy, that most nowadays judged rather, as a vicious form of feline degeneracy.

How that proud tiger one time au passant in the middle of a sustained dark night of the soul, excommunicated, he tried to cheer up, saying don't give up to the only venue that offers a slim chance of redemption, assert Yourself , and stick with it, through sticks and stones hurled about?

Why? Who knows but one thing sure,
Someone may come along. Some day, Some how, who will come and holding his burning heart high above the platoons following, will claim some merit in the quest for victory.

This battle was lost, but the war raged on. There are no unconditional surrenders, only that of lazy gods living in the waning light of Walhalla.

[Jakob]

Igor spent an entire day on deciding whether he liked the mirror better or the deeply cut and magnificently woven copper and silver ornaments that made up the frame which had made he mirror so impossible to lift when they moved to the 20th floor, down from where they grew up. He had stared at this mirror as a kid and wondered who had made it and if he could also learn to do something special like this. This is why Igor had chosen the education that had come to haunt him so much: metallurgy. There was a metallurgical saying, that had imprinted itself on Igor like acid on metal: "Enough, or Too Much!" And Igor thought this was wise, and stared in the mirror. He liked it. But he also liked the frame. It was weird and he left the room.