An Endless Redundancy with Olly Woods
Much like a Dating Profile of mine, I am doubtful of the true costs of being part of some people's Community. What Agenda. Why must we engage...? Alas, most problems are caused, escalated, exaggerated and Calculated by engaging with near-enough anything. Why bother now...?
Good Question.
I am trying to bring Irreverence back, in the vain attempt to become at least... Heard. As Pitiful as that sounds, I'd rather not even have that from you for what it's worth, so that just shows you where I BLOODY STAND. Hopefully that example can express that I'm able to be more self-aware than some Comedic-Voices. That'll be a string in my bow. GUESS WHAT ELSE?! WHO LIKES IRONY! Bit sickly, but there's fucking loads of it, as I LITERALLY LEARN LIKE RAINMAN, MYSELF/my 'isms, and all we absorb within our Lifetime period. Maybe I ought to avoid phrases like that if I want you focussed, and honed-in to me. BUT, without engagement, we know bollocks and fuck and no less, just merely bullshit, so we all need some light/thought/another white-washed Bri'rish los(n not v, am not an emo joker rip)er, with a difference. NO. GAMING. CHAIR.
; W
hilst I make myself maniacally laugh, I've brought in a Microphone, and probably copies of things (not carrot top, but 'slyly' ginger in sunlight) that make me laugh, or to build upon in an attempt to share some (probably frail in your own shite opinion) bars of Originality, from a largely Impoverished/Out of work, Creative-Waste. "Waste...": I adopted that word/phrase (I already knew the word for objects, or rotten food) when I felt I was myself, and the S fights the M ; Forevermore discovering, uncovered idiocy, that frailly encapsulates my passion for Art, Humour, and.. clearly an (in)eminent element of what I don't understand. All running through me, like Wagyu-fat. Just... 25% fat content. Porky, porky, what a malarkey. Doesn't rhyme. Waste of mine. Time, fine, over-the-line. Half-rhymes hit, some of the time. More syllables, but less of what's mine. TIME.
(lost dramatic weight (/+wait to my sex life) recently, due to an existential crisis. Lovely to grieve, even in the bonds of love. Already losing my sense of humour.)
"This guy's rhyme is a waste of my time. I feel unsettled, but, then again... I believe in Ghosts." -A review I made up
"Actually.. Not bad." - Has been the general sentiment when I really offer original ways of creating humour to others, when it works- for them too -, when other times I'm immobilised by depression. I bring boasts of adolescent wonder at 27 years old, as I've been (in my opinion), an aspiring Comedian my whole little hole, life. (pBPDoe)
Avid Question answering may or shall commence whenever you see it fit to deem me worthy of recompence(/"pounds and eskimo pence") I MEAN, THAT IS USUALLY HOW BRITAIN SOUNDS, BUT HERE IS THE E-MAIL ADDRESS FOR YOU, 'BUDDY':
sermonofdoubt996222diddlyi@mailfence.com
An Endless Redundancy with Olly Woods
#2: Give yourself ONE from me
I did say, "ONE". Don't get greedy, now.
After a month-long hiatus, (due to deciding to relinquish any semblance of life in favour of smoking bud), WE. ARE. BACK.
In all honesty, less schizophrenic than before, but, still equally doting to the idea (spawned from great rappers) that schizophrenia is a positive, or at-the-very-least, an interesting element to someone's personality.
I thought I wouldn't talk again, and I was resided to a place within the depth of childhood, where I felt talking was useless, or unnecessary. However... no. I've satiated my social-anxiety, by showing up on-form. Thus, curing my Autism and simultaneous Mutism. (What use would mutism be, for an Autist, who thrives upon the spouting of utter bullshite, bollocks, and gob-shitery...? And contrarily to the amount of respect others have for politicians... What use would my therapy be, if I was self-satisfied at home. Smoking pots. Feeling braindead...). ANYWAY, enough depressing fucking rhetoric. Hope you enjoy this.
I AM OBLIGED TO SAY IT WAS A BLARST.
OBLIGATE YOURSELF TO ENJOY. Especially if you've been dreaming like I have... Much like women in the 90s who were more uptight as a standard of being downtrodden by misogyny (didn't even know how to spell that word just-then, so... Olly Woods: Friend of Women. You're welcome, you ungrateful bitches.), I didn't reach orgasm/could not concentrate hard-enough to... "completion". And, I'm a bit of a completionist, so... That was a damn-shame. Also, I'm gay-now. All confirmed by Reddit, Quora, and some other terrible website that should barely be trusted.
Hope all of you who feed my childhood symptomatic neglect are doing well.
Love you. And you're also gay-now, if you enjoyed reading that. AM NOT - DOUBLE PERSONAL PADLOCK JINX. Now you HAVE TO, be gay-now. Sore luck and etc., Pal.
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"I never thought to say this originally, because I wouldn't like to lose myself in a Social-Vacuum-Esque Hellscape.
Purely if you think I have something to be understood, or anything of value...
Then, and, only then.
Be a Fan.
I'm opening up the idea of conversational ramblings. I think I'm naturally born reactionary, but instilled within silence. Don't be silent...? I'm a rational Human-Rights advocate, and I create my own kindness adverse to systems of Politics, wherever possible. However I'm Just not a fan of Tories. Irony, however... makes me look at Hugh Dennis differently. Like a Human. Not a Toffee. Or John Cleese. Or countless other wealthy Artists I, "couldn't possibly", relate to."
{Poddy e-mail address coming soon.}
