den 15. scene i mit aller-sidste nye skuespil.
jeg ved ikke hvad det skal hedde endnu.
måske noget med;
en hund i et spil kegler, bambi på glatis,
and last call for a desperado heifer out of skidrow.
. . .
the hood was prone to debauchery & low style.
in general, common practice was also ill defined, but let us try.
det alment opbyggende civil samfund.
forfølger man hin realistiske markeds-åbning,
så danser man typisk rundt igennem byen,
som man forfølger ærinde efter ærinde.
hvis ikke vil kvartalerne slæbe sig frem for evigt,
indtil man skifter om til den faglige forankring,
der passe til ens personlige sindelag & evner.
now try to do an algorithm that defines,
if a subject is pursuing a realistic market opening,
according to its genuine motivation, preferences & abilities,
determined by consistent trial & error approach,
through a steady participation in the labor market,
with workshops & vocational training to fill the gap?
you can’t.
it takes a hands-on approach, with peers & supervisers from campus town & labor market, issuing concise & adequate personal recommendations for each individual,
as they punch the clock & check in for 3 months at a time.
for the more general upkeep of the labor force – i.e; every single soul –
it takes a hands-on approach by unions, associations & social service in each muni,
who shall conduct a personal assessment of each individual, with targets set for each quarter.
the short version; turn the pile, scour the field for openings every day, and no one left behind.
the elaborate version; the house of landlords used to have this responsibility in every parish.
the yogi bear with a megaphone on a tour bus packed with a genset from wyoming version;
my newbe newbe newbe new, is such a snoopy dooby do,
whatever the god damn clientele, she might as well go for a barrel of herrings,
and since my snoopy dooby do, disregard the act of 92,
as well as my fair-haired own lovely kin – we better leave her to window dressing.
doc holiday checking his piece by the ringside;
it’s a little chilly out here, but I saved a couple for you, engraved with principia universalis.
. . .
not worthy of love / aiming for locked up in the masters bedroom?
the low-down from a snooby dooby du,
kissing up to all the mansions on the hill,
the ceo’s in a private jet from the glitter,
alpha males prancing about in the capital,
earl grey tea at every (.) in-convenience,
a barrel full of rotten herring on the bidet,
the only dis-advantage she will ever face,
(smuck)
a very abrupt directors cut,
general strike from the entire crew,
and all the dramaturgists & bouncers on stage;
that’s so un-fair - we just want to hear the low-down,
straight from our fair lady, without your god damn filter!
after a long & tedious casting for an actress with a brain of her own.
( the final low-down, right as our fair lady wants to have it )
is your house in order, are you organized, plying a realistic trade?
ok, I like a fair cry, and I see you already settled your priorities.
I just wonder who you turn to, when you reach the glass ceiling,
once your house is in order, you organized, ply a realistic trade,
you got your in-house manager, your out-of-house consultants,
you skip all over town, conducting one errand after the other,
you are out of the woods, not in the throe of your hormones,
nor prone to irrational actions, based on emotional whims,
once you turned your stash of 700 suitors for the last time,
once you narrowed the search to a final 8 ½ candidates,
once all of them hung you up to dry by the wayside,
because all they want is a cheap window dressing sucker-hoe?
and by the way;
garp just let me know. he took the tube to a jiujitsu club in brooklyn, 2 times a week,
even though you persuaded him to do the upper east side chess club, 18 months ago.
. . .
. . .
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