Tuesday, July 12, 2005
memoirs.To come into a point wherein your own life is already appealing enough to be written about is definitely gratifying. Judging nonetheless from the things I've been getting and the things that has been happening to my so-called life recently, I wouldn't be able to say that my being falls into that kind. I still have a few home works left undone, a laboratory gown left crammed with creases, a topic or two in physics still waiting to be comprehended by my little brain, and an unpaid locker. I still have to work on these kinds of predicaments before I label my own life "appealing" enough for everyone to read about.My years of living used to lack vibrancy and spice (oh yes, that's the most appropriate term, so to speak) until an evil bunch of cantankerous, flesh-eating carnivores attempted to visit me inside my humble abode made of fresh foliages of leaves and dried up tree branches left alone in the jungle one murky night. Their leader, a feline-like creature unaware of me being nocturnal (which can sometimes get so amazing, once my eyes smolder in the dark in a reddish glow) ordered her subjects to end my miserable life. I wouldn't be here writing about this piece of dull article which exactly has no point whatsoever if it weren't for her loyal right-hand whom I've heard was actually addressed by the name Joyce. (The leader of the pack, the fireflies told me, was Chynna, a ruthless tiger ready to crush her victims in an instant anytime, anywhere) She beseeched their chief to cease the attempt to attack me lest I might retaliate against their assault and let the ruddy shine of my eyes penetrate through their bodies, ushering them to death. Much to my surprise, Chynna saw the potential I never thought I possessed at that time through my unprepossessing countenance (I was sporting a headband at that time, if you might want to know) and let me live with her pack, believing that somehow, someday, I might be of great use.They thought me the ways of living with the fact that I would have to deal with the inconsiderate ambiance of St. Paul University, QC. Angge and Zcheyenne were superb gurus in hunting for female rodents to be arranged for dinner later on by Jocelyn, the only animal lucky enough to have studied culinary arts (and survived, thank God) in the immense world of human beings downtown. I would make them homes and coats on cold nights and would be asked to repair if some things were damaged most likely caused by the turmoil Jamille, the resident carpenter of the pack would often bring forth whenever she swings her hammer as large as a modern vendo machine. I came to enjoy the refuge this little home brought me day by day, and all the more when Price thought of bequeathing upon me a little of whatever she knows about arts and crafts one blistering morning. That very same day Rita initiated me to the art of having even at least a tiny bit of a fashion sense despite the fact that we lived in a suburban village cradled by all the fuddy-duddy things in life. Eji, Czaren, and Dana, on the other hand, inducted me to have this dream of being in a (what was that term again?) band once they have heard me one night grumbling out inhuman wails and have seen me pummeling rocks with an uncanny speed. With them I dreamt of forming a group in which I could develop all these "skills" altogether, and here I am now on the apex of my success: being in the renowned band of Oxygen.I, in due time, began to take in and enjoy the perceptions these people carried into my world in which the values of everything I have supposed about my life were nothing more than a pile of bat dung. We eventually took a trip down into the real world where more of these contemporary things were more appreciated and maltreated less. I have been into this pack for more than a year now, and I must say - beneath the myriad smiles, rabid conversations, song-writing proficiencies and perceptions people might have, I must say that I've enjoyed every minute of being with this evil bunch of cantankerous, flesh-eating carnivores collectively known as Gx12 and I know that if I hadn't just said that, I'd totally regret it. Like totally.IN CAVDA VENEVM GENESIS X IN AETERNUM AD EXTREMEMUM.
the generic generator @ 7:42 PM
***********************************************************************************