This particular blog is from Dennis - crazy guy, kindred spirit, friend
I have a confession to make. I am a lousy writer. Butat least I am man enough to admit it. I’m all man, as a matter of fact. I’ve got a washboard abdomen,barrel-chested and I don’t shriek at the sight of roaches or vermin. And if you are willing to make a trip to Vigan to find out…well I guess sending you a picture would be more practical.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. One day out of the blue, Ijust had this urge to write down my thoughts and musing and make it accessible to the general public who undoubtedly would never care to read it. Unless Iput some financial remunerations for those who dare read it. But what the heck? Am not a politician. And so after a week of organizing my thoughts and, writing from memory alone, I had my first blog published. Since it was written from memory, it mirrors my memory’s limitation and palpable imagination. The reactions I received from friends are words that I dare not write here. I was devastated. I wanted to severe what ever ties I have with them. I wanted to jump from the fourth floor of our church but I can’t,for the fear that it’s not high enough to finish me off. I thought of swallowing a litter of muriatic acid but the death skull printed just below the brand scared the hell out of me. Its okay though because it is good only in removing scales and rust on tiles,toilet bowls, plastic concrete and stainless steel. And I was cautioned that it may be irritating to the skin.
This sequence of frustrations saved me from my attempt to flee from the sting of my friends’impartial assessment of my work. How could they be so objective? I’m their friend! And I was just recovering from diarrhea and eczema. A little grace would do me good. But to no avail. Thanks to thePlatonic world of ideas, my work obtained an idyllic infinity accessible only to Plato's students exceptAristotle of course. I just comforted my self that I am a gifted person. More gifted than they are and has a higher probability of making it to the AmericanIdol. Little did they know that I am a painter, a tambourine dancer, a hula-hoop expert and a hearsedriver. Not to mention eating fire underwater. I guess they just don’t realize that unconditional love requires great courage, spiritual faith, and,sometimes, extraordinarily low intelligence.
I have a confession to make. I am a lousy writer. Butat least I am man enough to admit it. I’m all man, as a matter of fact. I’ve got a washboard abdomen,barrel-chested and I don’t shriek at the sight of roaches or vermin. And if you are willing to make a trip to Vigan to find out…well I guess sending you a picture would be more practical.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. One day out of the blue, Ijust had this urge to write down my thoughts and musing and make it accessible to the general public who undoubtedly would never care to read it. Unless Iput some financial remunerations for those who dare read it. But what the heck? Am not a politician. And so after a week of organizing my thoughts and, writing from memory alone, I had my first blog published. Since it was written from memory, it mirrors my memory’s limitation and palpable imagination. The reactions I received from friends are words that I dare not write here. I was devastated. I wanted to severe what ever ties I have with them. I wanted to jump from the fourth floor of our church but I can’t,for the fear that it’s not high enough to finish me off. I thought of swallowing a litter of muriatic acid but the death skull printed just below the brand scared the hell out of me. Its okay though because it is good only in removing scales and rust on tiles,toilet bowls, plastic concrete and stainless steel. And I was cautioned that it may be irritating to the skin.
This sequence of frustrations saved me from my attempt to flee from the sting of my friends’impartial assessment of my work. How could they be so objective? I’m their friend! And I was just recovering from diarrhea and eczema. A little grace would do me good. But to no avail. Thanks to thePlatonic world of ideas, my work obtained an idyllic infinity accessible only to Plato's students exceptAristotle of course. I just comforted my self that I am a gifted person. More gifted than they are and has a higher probability of making it to the AmericanIdol. Little did they know that I am a painter, a tambourine dancer, a hula-hoop expert and a hearsedriver. Not to mention eating fire underwater. I guess they just don’t realize that unconditional love requires great courage, spiritual faith, and,sometimes, extraordinarily low intelligence.
Comments
now that's a lot of fun. i'm guessing you don't shift gears too often with that car...that i can drive.