Aka Patato - Eden Saga

Aka Patato can as long as he loses. If he wins, he can’t chat. Aka is a pro chatter. You must hear the wise guy as he screams. Even on an empty stomach, he drinks like a blob, the old chap. Vile. Art for lard. Neither happiness, nor woe, placid. Like Louis the Monk, dead I suppose, bread if he dares, fed up if he flares.

Huff! Puff!

Aka Patato mistakenly uses false numbers. Lots of fake names. Teen nicknames. Very silly blazes that friment and rhyme and that stop, to the point that they are joined by two fists: open the quotation marks. Close the hatches, girls.” We follow you at night without making a sound on the pavement that glows in the rain.

Know it and try to bag it. It is a lot, you don’t have to hide it. I can let go of it without ruining anything, it will cost around six thousand. Similar (R). Like it looked like six thousand r si mi la ré do, the streets of Laredo on the shores of the Lido, the girl of Ipanema does cinema there, the cat on a hot tin roof could be a whore if I catch her I eat her, I love to eat pussy on my burning fingers.

Poor Job

At the end of his life, Aka is not hungry anymore. Patato has nothing but a hair on his hand. Aka does caca, Patato poops. Both are fake and bidon. Sitting on his bedpan Patato beats the butter. If it was shit you would serve as a stick.French kid song Tuna quest. Aka says bad it does him good. Patato says good things but it hurts him. Aka Patato does not say or do anything. Don’t eat a fresh egg. That he offered to various expenses, winter facts. To the fairies of yesterday.

“I don’t want ever to be a man,” Peter said with passion. “I want always to be a little boy and to have fun. So I ran away to Kensington Gardens and lived a long long time with the fairies.”
James Barrie

Aka loses as much as he can, and all he loses is always that much. Aka of his real name Alias Patate de la Rangeraye is the ultimate heir to a family without children as poor as Job before he started in cigarette paper. Aka is an orphan with no known parents, except Job son of Jonah son of Johnisse son of the Sel la Baleine.

What farm?

But as his father is unknown I will not dwell on the question. The children of Aka Alias are not many, I am talking about those he knows or has recognized without having known them, who are in the number zero. The unknown children of which he has not been aware rest in a place of ease between Limbo and Paradise, change at Motte-Piquait.Motte-Picquet, a Paris tube station Now it’s better, the boss has changed her razor.

If I tell you this is because of course I have an ulterior motive behind my head otherwise why do it? I don’t know anything, my thought is so backward that I no longer think about it, I never think at all, I’m too smart for it.(Albert Camus, Caligula) The other one is silent. He could have said Pierre or Jacques, but he shuts it down. With a firm hand. In his farm before it closes.

When you’ll give up hope, I’ll teach you will.
Seneca

But as the king …

… doesn’t want, it will be you! I know my classics, but they are so snobbish that they know nothing about me. Everyone ignores me better than who better. Everyone smells crazy. They all stink, the skunks! It’s crazy. We don’t care about anything. From head to toe, we are covered with shame. That’s good, because if it was dirty water, shame! Even if you drink water, it should be bad. Well bad.

Shut up. You stink too. So your farm is closed. So you go to the bush, you chop down old roofs. The old him, the old me. You are unemployed like all the old people.

Let’s talk about something else. Old people always make you cry. Aka, Ficelle, Gueugueu, Alias, Kashtabalda, all his buddies little farts lost for no one yet not lost for Papa Pipe taking part in pity permutons pardons pardon during full (the manuscript stops here, Patate too).

The old world is dying, the new one is slow to appear, and in this chiaroscuro monsters appear.
Antonio Gramsci

… And the Queen wants, for God’s sake!

The arenala reine = l’arène wants the old man! Yes! He will be torero. Thor hero. Wrong and rot. Who stinks who farts. And takes his kippur…French nursery rhyme you know my story, old pear. A trumpet, yes, here it is. Do you see it there? Forget it, you’re hurting yourself. Tronc pète de l’amor, sings Pignon. “Is Jules here?“French old radio play

All these words spoken will be held against you. All against. Let them keep you warm when you sleep outside. Draped in your dignity, that’s how you call your word coat. A mind, emmental coats. Loving your freedom. And the arena in all this? He coughed. What arena? That of the title. You show a pendulum, no, a Thor hero who would have you in the queen, and then nothing, no relation. Neither textual nor sexual.

Dunno, Forgot

The title is meant to title, By Odin! It’s very convenient, said the closet. Do we know with what beauty he frolics? Frightening. Stop it now! I cancel everything, said the ring. The medium is not a medium, I put him on the index. The arena wants him. he will have to have sex and drugs and rock n’ roll. Damn et schön.

It’s true and even truer. Everything is false in history. The doubter at nothing tells us stories. As many Histories as hysterical historian. Indeed! But no comment. Earth haters shut them up. Always laughing at the worst story. Aka is an orphan with no known parents. Grabbing naked tail. Common green. Come on grin? Wazza?

History teaches historians how to falsify it.
Stanislaw Jerzy Lec

-By the way, how are you?
-I walk on by the way. Do you?
-…remember when we met. The day I knew you were my pet.
-Very funny.
-No, “Sea of Love” by the Honeydrippers.

Sea of what?

Do you remember when we met
That’s the day I knew you were my pet
I want to tell you
How much I love you

Soooo noble! So rich and refined!!

Without music, life would be a mistake.
Friedrich Nietzsche

All my trials Lord soon be over