nas safa - Giannis Tzelepes Thomas Tzatziki

Release Date: 06/23/2023

1. Photography is the Greatest Disaster of the 20th Century (1:56)
2. Prosopo in 3 Iterations, Pt 1 (2:37)
3. Prosopo in 3 Iterations, Pt 2 (3:06)
4. Alternative Mathematics, Pt 1 (3:20)
5. Alternative Mathematics, Pt 2 (3:00)
6. Alternative Mathematics, Pt 3 (2:06)

A 23-part rap about a ratio named Giannis Tzelepes Thomas Tzatziki and his inebriated evening at a bar named Nickanee's (alternate version of the record Ice Hookah w/ the Tzatziki).

Each verse is written in the meter >.667. Meaning the repetition to syllable ratio is greater than .667. (i.e. if there are 30 syllables in a line, then there should be at least 21 repetitions or 'echoes', 21/30=0.7).

Text:

—01
Flipping myself ass up at the colonoscopy before it was appropo, there’s no longer a notion of sanctity in abstract expressionism, quantum mechanics and nonlocal relations or something, John Bell was correct about the physical universe, writing ‘muttering my constant curiosity got in the way of my suicide to myself’ in a somewhat ironic tone but muttering nothing at all—the older woman had no interest in geriatric footwear yet wouldn't stop speaking to me of my destiny after eight o'clock at the Wrentham outlets, aged thirty six Portuguese dancers inform you in minute detail of your own acute misery then walk away unconcerned, this is why Christ had his feet rubbed—

—02
Dip down like a quick bath into the DMT-like essence of what seems poetic, breakfast and coffee spots close so quickly, yet I find myself yearning for an Americano and omelet a little after four, the clouds over one forty six south consistently look like oil paint, prior to the mental health revolution adolescents were forced to internalize trauma, many of them becoming complete assholes in the process, I've soured on the beach, skin care I suppose has become a bit of a priority, sand is somewhat of an annoyance—

—03
Two midgets eating delicious looking rice bowls at Xaco Taco, repeating the phrases ‘there is no image,’ ‘there is no memory,’ there’s no image and there’s no memory, sans image and memory we can start to approach the fundamental nature of the universe as such, triple egg omelet with the kalamata olives, a chest crevice stained in a permanent ink of sorts, cuddly beavers eat vegetables from the hands of well intentioned human beings, the small bottles of soju were only eight bucks a piece—

—04
The saki at Somo was possibly the worst alcoholic beverage I've ever sipped, the can looked like an anime juicebox, it appealed to me, it struck me Tiny Bar had a pretense about it that just struck me as completely out of line, people from various backgrounds making fast friends as I ate breakfast out on the patio at Domenic’s, considering going to Chilango’s, once again deciding against it, the condo complex looked like total shit, real estate as an investment has always struck me as less than a no brainer—

—05
Blue light eyeglasses with the black wire rims I look like a complete douchebag, there's a document titled password is password with the dollar signs after the A, Proust was a renowned fan of male prostitutes—they think Nietzsche died of syphilis, in my mind I'm the last of a long line, made American English into Ancient Greek—consider me the twelfth Constantine, genocides are just a matter of taste, anatoli just means East—

—06
Gregory of Nazianzus implicitly understood the nature of quantum physics, of nonlocal relations, it's possible the Occident has clung to an initial linguistic reversal, a reversal creating an illusion of perspective, it's possible the perspectivism discovered by people like Nietzsche was in fact a simple byproduct of this initial reversal of the Occident, this idea of a perspective, it seems totally illogical to me, no pun intended, ice hookah with the tzatziki I wasn't quite in my right mind at the time, samurai sword in Washington Park, the car seat saw too much, videography is archaic in retrospect, the science of phonetics is still ambiguous, the conversation faded of its own accord—

—07
Siberia is beautiful this time of year, all art is not necessarily ipso facto for everyone, the flesh of the human being wasn't universally appealing, believe it or not, emotional baggage lost in transit after I woke from a strange dream, my yiayia informing me she's out of sorts with smudged lipstick as I clutch a nephew that isn't mine, there are many regional differences to take into account, we construct linear states in retrospect then spit on a street in Izmir, the rolled down window was like a picture frame, memory was juvenile delinquents spraying graffiti, the Providence cop was satisfied with the answer we're just conversing—

—08
The unspecified bug trapped in the spider web on the railing of the employer's entrance made me consider metaphors or something, the cashier at Job Lot of ambiguous ethnicity needs to employ social media to assist her pursuit of establishing herself as a photographer, her favorite food is pizza, the colonoscopy was unsuccessfully rescheduled on two occasions, it struck me that ‘Russian whore’ is one of the few misogynist phrases still acceptable to say aloud in so-called mixed company, sure it was nice enough to have the assistance of Giovanni Guistinianibut not if he insisted on retreating the first time his chest caved in—

—09
I found Marios Philippides’ monograph on the last Constantine to be so pro-Latin to be nearly unreadable, which was unsurprising because it seems as though there are almost no true Greek intellectuals in the West, only faux-Greek intellectuals that shamelessly sell out their own history, who rubber stamp Anglo assertions that the Hellenic era ended after Socrates fondled Alcibiades, I often have an urge to spit on these so-called intellectuals, these scholastic imbeciles, these Levantine Benedict Arnolds, these cowards of the spirit, while I painstakingly transform American English into Koine Greek I have to deal with people of my own ancestry obfuscating in the service of secular popes, when there's nothing below a secular pope, it's why at times I feel like retiring to a monastery or something, sometimes you have to ask yourself what's the point—

—10
A bit depressed without palpable cause, slowly noticing a variety of polka dots on a pristine two thousand sixteen Honda Civic clearly due to the douchebag incessantly moving his white pickup in the parking lot, inebriated and peeing on Enzo’s door handle in two thousand and fourteen, two years prior to the Civic being issued, the scallops at Maria Cucina were succulent yet ridiculously overpriced, Curt alleged the pork was kind of dry, slowly noticing Milagro is a halfway decent tequila at Vino Veritas—

—11
Black eyebrows plucked with a muted sense of glee, the center of gravity is ultimately elusive, there's a πρόσωπο that becomes an ουσία but not quite vice versa, we begin with the individual and think this is freedom, there is no individual, the individual is no organism, the organism is the first fallacy, I've never been a big fan of sense perception, prose is some form of telepathy, this is perilous, I've only intermittently believed this is good, my beliefs are purely theatrical, there's no better opera house than belief, she asked me an asinine question and laughed, I chuckled nervously, it marked the beginning of a horrendous era for each of us—

—12
Leaving the apartment for the first time all Friday the fresh air was a revelation, Liberian with the mask on at the Greek pizza spot, rub and tug with the open sign across the street, might get my VCR repaired at Cho's Electronics, Speedway stuck up by the black dude with balloons tucked under his shirt, he picked my key up for me on a random Sunday afternoon, I always found him a nice guy personally, take a right onto Alexander and pass the basketball courts, two thousand eighteen flashbacks, taken aback by my note but as much of an asshole as you can be it's essential to remain a man of your word, otherwise there's no redemption arc—

—13
It became gradually apparent as I made incidental eye contact with a girl with a gargantuan fake ass that I’d slowly lost the ability to type words coherently into my iPhone—memory is perhaps as a concept slightly ill-advised, I considered while eating an entire rotisserie chicken at a later date, yes it was inadvisable in retrospect to give an overarching historical recap of the late Ottoman Empire to two seventy somethings I'd never met, senses get muted with age—I failed to notice the effervescent backside ambling across India Point until Katreena accused me of looking at it, orifices are ultimately negligible phenomena, Jesus didn't give much credence to bank accounts, I considered eating an entire rotisserie chicken at a later date—chanting the words ‘turn my bitch up’ in a soft whisper as I strenuously edit the HTML of a bootleg Tumblr page I feel at peace with the world, ten calendars on females with two kids I feel at peace with myself, ten mezcals enter an eleventh dimension I feel at peace with the world, with the charlatan nature of mathematics, my mother ditched me at Nick-A-Nee’s, but truthfully I didn't want to reveal my new Audrey Horne tattoo anyway—

—14
On Mineral Spring getting my eyebrows threaded by Cheryl a self-identifying Spanish lady with a curiously Arabic accent attempts to sell off a pair of air pods to help support her alleged four children and I was a little dubious to say the least, defecating at the gentlemen's venue, off-brand dude wipes from The Christmas Tree Shop, writing essays is reprehensible, having sincere opinions is basically worse than climate change in my mind, boycotting semicolons, the irony of my New York Knicks fandom has slowly fallen by the wayside with age—

—15
Pulling my penis out with a child-like sense of jubilation, I require more podcasts is the only conclusion I've come to of late, it's the only logical conclusion, there’s simply a severe lack of podcasts in the current era, we've ruthlessly deprived ourselves of others’ opinions, reading a Robert Ashley libretto while stroking my beard in a fashion that evinces a solemn contemplation—

—16
Honduran medium roast in the Mister Coffee—brown basmati with two teaspoons from the za'atar bag, only extra virgin olive oil from the cold press, at this point I think we need to admit we've made some mistakes in an adult and calculating manner of speaking, I'm even-tempered by nature, office space two feet by four feet with the stapled carpet made from recycled styrofoam or something—reading impassioned reddit posts about the heterosexuality of male masturbation dildos, toss two cubes in the ice hose and try to see dead people, one of the most profound friends I've ever had was a floor fan—

—17
Tyranny of the four-four, meaning is negotiable, the doppelganger appeared only intermittently to me on a mild Sunday afternoon, reminded me of a missed call I received five or so years ago, but I discarded the memory to the possibility of eating a self-salted french fry—the dude who stuffed the young corpse into his trunk lived in an upscale apartment complex and didn't resemble your typical pervert murderer, eye contact is quantum computing—

—18
Four walls encapsulate horrendously repetitive phenomena right around decade anniversaries, at the Italian-American club I engaged in an emo conversation regarding geographical tendencies for no particular reason, turquoise crystal covers the stab wound between the collarbones, parts and wholes are necessary, didn’t need to inform myself it was slightly ill-advised, gazing mindlessly at your own history a little aloof, succumbing to nefarious literalism with friends, to be frank I couldn't comprehend how anyone would come to think political opinions are anything but art, it never occurred to me that my passion could be misconstrued as sincerity—

—19
The deceased raccoon looked serene like it was sleeping on the side of one forty six, I saw Curtis texted there wasn't a cunt hair of a chance the Italian ass was authentic and I agreed, I thought about the raccoon corpse again, about the nonsensical nature of biology, about the big bottle of Soju I'd bought at the so-called discount liquor store which seemed to price items higher than MSRP, thoughts may be physical phenomena that haunt us no different than poltergeist, I can't honestly say I always select my phrasing in the most careful of manners, some names you shouldn't say—

—20
Discussing espressos blackout drunk with Emilio at Amedeo, half pound of the pulled pork but only if it's completely unseasoned, succulent (pause), being the only car on Memorial brought on a somewhat nonsensical sense of foreboding, I felt an intense foreboding, could it have been the Casamigos Blanco, this continual disrespect of the agave, an ad claims to unravel the meaning of agape, The Big Fat Greek Wedding franchise does nothing but perpetuate a generic sense of ethnicity that's as inane as it is counterproductive, something especially ironic coming from the so-called Greek east, the relational essence par excellence, Nia Vardalos it should be noted is simply no Cappadocian, this conception of essence is embarrassingly faux-Hellenic, back to Manuel at Manzikert—

—21
Half Greek vacuum cleaner in a mid-August malaise, fortune read unsolicited at two pm on a Sunday smoking a ten dollar cigar drinking a vodka on the rocks, half barbarian eleventh Constantines, eleven Constantines is sufficient, half Nikola Jokic, typing the word kindly in emails, I was flummoxed at the amount of redskin on the redskin peanuts, middle aged podcast host repeatedly using the phrase ‘sphincter clenching’—

—22
Ingest the special star shapes there’s a club above an arcade, there’s a seven am showing of an uneven Netflix anime, two homosexuals dance sans irony and there's an album that will preferably be disavowed at a later date, a man my age is now dying a slow death, incoherent epidermis, I used to hit the bottle hard too—indeed I painted six hours at a time with the Sobieski by my side, screwed and chopped Bjork, a sense of adolescence existed, Markos Vamvakaris wrote about the water pipes and call girls of turn of the century Piraeus, shirt unbuttoned all the way down with profound hiccups to drown out D’Andrea’s dead body, but can we confirm the Puerto Rican girl behind the bar is aware, does the butt wipe at the bar bathroom realize Ryan’s died, I don't discriminate between organic entities and otherwise, another man our age is dying, second cousins we never see drop dead in Florida yet dude was always an asshole anyway, ingest the special star shapes there's a club above an arcade, I used to paint six hours at a time with the Sobieski by my side, I found it enjoyable for the era—cigar bar with Lams, I’m well aware my charisma is unorthodox in character—

—23
I can no longer consume spaghetti alio yet I’ve gradually come to terms with this trying state of existence, surgically inserting substances into the very essence of one’s buttocks is a pure roll of the die in my humble opinion, yet a female's sexual history is frankly none of our business, we tend to view the vagina as a tissue or a kleenex when it's essentially reflexive in character, like a unique phrase or laconic collection of lexicon, that's more or less how I view the contemporary vagina at least, I was a little taken aback at the fact the wing spot only offered curly fries, that regular fries were nowhere to be found on the menu—