Gregor Cuzak

on marketing, business and philosophy



there’s a hypohondriac in my closeness, that is sick when she’s feels good and not sick when she’s not well. now tell me is that sick or what?

a decision that I’ve just taken is that I will not be correcting errors, the typos that occur while writing these tidbiits, see, there’s one already 🙂 there’s a reason beginh this. the reason is that i beliebve an error is just a was for gord to say he loves us, well its a messafge o f sorts. damn, reall pcomplicated, see, not that my writing is so error infested usually, yet trully I do type blidndly, so that mught just be it

alas, what’s next. dancing. just like sex. just like feelings. just like the universe. just like shiva. just like elementary particles. i’m not saying it’s obiusous, yet it makes esence to me. dancing just as writing is a rhythimc process of moving orderly and chaotically at the same time, and that’s why it’s so delightful, it’s a game, just like sex. i mean, if sex is a matter of aggressive expressioning of supressed emotions than let them have it, i shall have my joy.

families, they are the bonds. the wonderful bonds that five ultimate freedom, freedom to do anything, except one, cut the bonds. james bonds. the secret agent bonds of this woreld.

i love em mistakes, i know they also knowck the bottom out of patience of most, well many, however mistakes should not be intentionall. if they arte, they’re vicious, and one should not be vicious, one shall e goood.

cartoons, my daughter loves cartoons, adores them

piano is palying in thedark, the melofy id wonderful, contagious, incredibly amgnetic, as if it were pure heaven, a delight of some magical sorts, a token of one0s unvocovered heart, the seat of soul, the maven among idols, the eagle of peaking altruistic ambitions of a free wandering mind, the top, that is spinning out of gravity, and flying, over the rainbows, the one’s arching in the eye of the beholder where the beauty lies and tell s the truth, the one that conquers and embraces and extends into the void that is fullness of grand intelllectual retribution towards a flick of a goatful mourn that says i do love you indeed as if it were just a dream beyond the wheel of a card a wild one, a sexy one, a live one, to two, to three, to four, is playing in the dark, the melofdy is wonderful, contagious, it is is it it is.

uf, that was hard, seems as easy, and it was, but the weifght i geld tt the end was uneasy, and it remains so, as if my chest is being squeezed, not in the heart, two to three inches below and it belows and it presses and it feels benign, yet fears of malignant cancerous forms endears, takes me to tears that pour down my cheeks, as if prince was playing a ivolin, albeit a guitar is the tune that sets him apart.

cooking, it’s a dsicipline, it’s an art, it’s a science. if you wish your foood to taste delicious, play while cooking, seek the edge, not to go over it, just seek it, aromas, the chemicals react when you’re close to the edge. need prooof? boiling is an edge, freezeing is an edge, meeting of oil an d water is an edge, every spice delivers it’s bite to the foood in small invisible explosions, miucroviolent events that release the unbelievable taste later pickued up by our nostrils, tastebuds, and tummy. love is at the edge of order and chaos, keep your foood in the love zone, keep it there and ejnoy. maybe play music, or just dannce. it’s tht easy.

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