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01/07/2024
Axiomatic
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Axiomatic
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44
Brutalus kalleiensis
Ojemine, from the dusty back row of bottles still to be organized, a bully spits on the floor right next to my desk.
Just what I needed in young 2024.
Sure, postponed doesn't mean canceled, silly me.
So, let's get down to business quickly and describe the soup in a nutshell.
Hiss!
Babble, babble.
Galbanum quite good.
Yawn.
Oud chips from the retort.
Räkel.
Banger of the 1980s.
So, a quick jingle before I can enjoy a restful sleep in a warm bed.
Drunk with sleep...
"The house of Bogart succeeds once again with a new creation."
Shit, this thing is already ten years old.
Set new tab.
"This year, the House of Bogart is celebrating the tenth anniversary of its bulky slap in the face of art oud.
Those in the mood for a proper tavern brawl will be satisfied with soapy galbanum, coarse leather, dried graveyard flowers and spices.
Holds well and projects magnificently.
Price/performance are not objectionable.
Awaken the tobacco-chewing, uncouth Texan in you! You are the law!"
Well, that should be enough. Send it off and call it a day.
Yawn.
Off to bed!
After five minutes...
Knock knock...
The door is wrenched open, a dark figure storms in and my swivel chair is violently turned around.
A tattooed hand flips over my table lamp and I am blinded by the beam of light.
Kalle: Hello, master! So we meet again. Have you forgotten my fair face, eh? And what am I reading here?
My signature and Texans?
He's choking me with the collar of my sweater.
A: Chhhalle, waththth for a surprisegg...
K: I like that, it's a good start to the year!
So, spit it out, what do you have against my scent, hey? Did they put "sissy" on your birth certificate?
A: Chhhalle, my air horn!
He lets go and I gasp for air.
K: So, let's practise this until it works, Mäsiär!
He even drenches himself under the armpits with the liquor, the last hiss finds its way through the buttons of his jeans.
There it stands, the sewer rat of the darkest corners of notorious neighborhoods.
"Haue" is tattooed in Fraktur on the left palm, while "kuscheln" is immortalized in italics on the right.
K: Let me put it this way, if we agree on a few changes to your stupid short line, I'll be gracious.
I've heard from oral surgeons that no one has ever liked the other outcome.
A: That's what you call coercion garnished with threats of violence, lovely suburban hyena! But I don't want to be like that.
I sniff thoughtfully at my opponent, who tenses his triceps in warning.
Well, the impression of the gear oil isn't that bad.
A: Well, Brutalus kalleiensis, I'll be lenient then.
I like the bottle. I would even be inclined to say that the brownish tint is in the context of the original greenish version of that 1980 OMS as a generic prototype of the 1970s color scheme, a blueprint in the broadest sense, a half-baked precursor, so to speak.
I get a slight slap on the back of the head for this.
K: Digga, one more like that and all you'll smell is trouble!
Quick semantic adjustment.
A: Knorke Pulle!
Alder, the opening is crassly spicy! Awesome seventies feeling from the galbanum and bergamot.
The pissy thyme strulls properly.
K: We are on the right track..
A: Wow, the territory marker! Becomes slightly soapy.
Hmm, warm and woody.
Ok, synthetic but good.
K: Go on!
A: Dry rose geranium. Full of the midday heat in Austin, Texas.
K: Watch out Kleener!
A: Um, I mean Argelès-sur-Mer!
Could also be Benidorm.
K: Better...
A: Sexy leather on cinnamon, a little allspice.
As I said, labdanum and patchouli always score points here.
So, I'd say this makes you le roi du quatre-vingt-treize.
K: What am I?
A: Hot spot in the north of Paris, but let's not go there.
You're already gorgeous enough to decorate the Tiergarten in the capital anyway.
K: Meenste?
Mariendorf Süd would be enough for me!
My tiredness gets the better of me and I forget my hospitality.
A: Let me tell you, the clock has struck thirteen!
So, off you go, so that you can pick up some good H/S!
Adele!
K: Man Axio, you're a good buddy.
Sometimes you just need the right motivation, don't you? Give it a rest.
Have a good time with dear Kalle.
And so the night tiger swings its fur into the darkness of the night.
His scent plume smells slightly ambery.
Oh, if only I had told him that the scent is not entirely unwise.
I like the dry, bright interruption of the woody notes with the green, acidic aspects.
Also, it all ends on a very memorable papyrus note.
This will certainly leave a nice impression the next morning.
Not everyone has.
So, good night.
Just what I needed in young 2024.
Sure, postponed doesn't mean canceled, silly me.
So, let's get down to business quickly and describe the soup in a nutshell.
Hiss!
Babble, babble.
Galbanum quite good.
Yawn.
Oud chips from the retort.
Räkel.
Banger of the 1980s.
So, a quick jingle before I can enjoy a restful sleep in a warm bed.
Drunk with sleep...
"The house of Bogart succeeds once again with a new creation."
Shit, this thing is already ten years old.
Set new tab.
"This year, the House of Bogart is celebrating the tenth anniversary of its bulky slap in the face of art oud.
Those in the mood for a proper tavern brawl will be satisfied with soapy galbanum, coarse leather, dried graveyard flowers and spices.
Holds well and projects magnificently.
Price/performance are not objectionable.
Awaken the tobacco-chewing, uncouth Texan in you! You are the law!"
Well, that should be enough. Send it off and call it a day.
Yawn.
Off to bed!
After five minutes...
Knock knock...
The door is wrenched open, a dark figure storms in and my swivel chair is violently turned around.
A tattooed hand flips over my table lamp and I am blinded by the beam of light.
Kalle: Hello, master! So we meet again. Have you forgotten my fair face, eh? And what am I reading here?
My signature and Texans?
He's choking me with the collar of my sweater.
A: Chhhalle, waththth for a surprisegg...
K: I like that, it's a good start to the year!
So, spit it out, what do you have against my scent, hey? Did they put "sissy" on your birth certificate?
A: Chhhalle, my air horn!
He lets go and I gasp for air.
K: So, let's practise this until it works, Mäsiär!
He even drenches himself under the armpits with the liquor, the last hiss finds its way through the buttons of his jeans.
There it stands, the sewer rat of the darkest corners of notorious neighborhoods.
"Haue" is tattooed in Fraktur on the left palm, while "kuscheln" is immortalized in italics on the right.
K: Let me put it this way, if we agree on a few changes to your stupid short line, I'll be gracious.
I've heard from oral surgeons that no one has ever liked the other outcome.
A: That's what you call coercion garnished with threats of violence, lovely suburban hyena! But I don't want to be like that.
I sniff thoughtfully at my opponent, who tenses his triceps in warning.
Well, the impression of the gear oil isn't that bad.
A: Well, Brutalus kalleiensis, I'll be lenient then.
I like the bottle. I would even be inclined to say that the brownish tint is in the context of the original greenish version of that 1980 OMS as a generic prototype of the 1970s color scheme, a blueprint in the broadest sense, a half-baked precursor, so to speak.
I get a slight slap on the back of the head for this.
K: Digga, one more like that and all you'll smell is trouble!
Quick semantic adjustment.
A: Knorke Pulle!
Alder, the opening is crassly spicy! Awesome seventies feeling from the galbanum and bergamot.
The pissy thyme strulls properly.
K: We are on the right track..
A: Wow, the territory marker! Becomes slightly soapy.
Hmm, warm and woody.
Ok, synthetic but good.
K: Go on!
A: Dry rose geranium. Full of the midday heat in Austin, Texas.
K: Watch out Kleener!
A: Um, I mean Argelès-sur-Mer!
Could also be Benidorm.
K: Better...
A: Sexy leather on cinnamon, a little allspice.
As I said, labdanum and patchouli always score points here.
So, I'd say this makes you le roi du quatre-vingt-treize.
K: What am I?
A: Hot spot in the north of Paris, but let's not go there.
You're already gorgeous enough to decorate the Tiergarten in the capital anyway.
K: Meenste?
Mariendorf Süd would be enough for me!
My tiredness gets the better of me and I forget my hospitality.
A: Let me tell you, the clock has struck thirteen!
So, off you go, so that you can pick up some good H/S!
Adele!
K: Man Axio, you're a good buddy.
Sometimes you just need the right motivation, don't you? Give it a rest.
Have a good time with dear Kalle.
And so the night tiger swings its fur into the darkness of the night.
His scent plume smells slightly ambery.
Oh, if only I had told him that the scent is not entirely unwise.
I like the dry, bright interruption of the woody notes with the green, acidic aspects.
Also, it all ends on a very memorable papyrus note.
This will certainly leave a nice impression the next morning.
Not everyone has.
So, good night.
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