As time mills about on its exercise cycle in the living room, and memories keep tearing free from my storybook and drifting off like so many roadside candy-wrappers reflecting only when the light hits just right else lost amidst the tumble and brickleweeds in the median — it occurs to me that I should tell my story before I forget too many details left out of the stale Xun? Look holiest of “holy Swiss cheese, Batman!” — as it has not been heard yet in full. Like the cheese, I stand holistically alone yet ever accompanied, and so, in trying to be a good host… I’m going 4crackers?
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I have not told my tale to anyone in full yet, and I have been losing memories like so many laundry socks, never to be seen again. In part catharsis for me and if any so choose perhaps a way to bridge the gap over our schism of perceptions. In my own way I shall try to meander through my life… neither chronologically nor in sequence but periodically touching upon one or the other as it may. In advance, I would like to (by way of apology) offer fair warning to any unsuspecting readers that my prose tends to be rather heavy in appearance yet lighter in substance than would seem in the fashion of Chinese take-out wherein you are quickly full and over it but not long after curiously hankering for a little more (or at least, that is my hope). But should you find me too cumbersome for your tastes, feel free to enjoy what you like, ignore the rest, believe what you want to and blissfully disbelieve that which does not resonate well within your paradigms. Honestly I myself don’t believe some of the events of my life and I was there in the moment. Mom, I know you’ve repeatedly asked me not to tell you everything, so maybe just read like every other paragraph or something? For instance (and I don’t recommend doing all these… I’ll give more details at another time), but I have somehow accomplished or survived: jumping from the top of one elevator and sliding down the cable to the next which was parked one floor below, snorting a line of wasabi (and on another occasion - one of minced garlic), swimming pelagic in the Pacific Ocean with a family of whales, (with my brother) building a mostly working-ish flame-thrower out of an old water gun and some paint-thinner (that only lightly scorched the side of the garage), surfing down a mountain on a rockslide wearing open-toed Birkenstocks, scaling around the corner of the outside of a building seven stories up while drunk clinging to very loosely mounted chicken wire (strangely also while also wearing sandals), catching a rainbow trout out of the water with my bare hands, having my hacky-sack blessed by Pope John Paul II, and exploding into a fireball centered on myself. I intend to relay only with truth (although as subjective as perception and belief are to understanding, clearly all will inherently suffer from bias of my vantage but I shall try to be as objective as possible).
If you have made it this far (and as this is still only the introduction), I offer a treat to break the monotony of my narrative - and intend to do so as best I can.
There… a nice pair of kitties! I have always said that kitties make everything better.
I do tend to derail tangentially at times, and will most likely also wander off like an intermittent stream meandering through the sandy beaches of the hourglass funneling the metered progress of inevitability. Time is a fickle whore and always seems to be conspiring against me from time to time. Standing still being the best way to run out of time, Watch as I try to make it in time without being caught in time, and after wasting time and killing time… if I’ve beaten the clock, I plan on unwinding for a time.
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