Greetings World
This, undiscovered friends, is my first blog. There is nothing magical about a "blog" except that it can bring us together. So here I am addressing those of you throughout the world who are "kindred spirits" those of you who, upon reading my postings here, will recognize something in me as a sign that we are "of the same tribe" in a manner of speaking. Indeed all human beings and all living things are part of one earthly family-if we consider the almost indentical architecture of DNA whether in a human being or a blade of grass-but some people, mysteriously, understand one another and others do not. With most people, it seems, one can only communicate while with others one can commune. Language is only one part of this phenomenon so when I say that we speak the same language I mean this not only literally but also figuratively. Until my next posting, I wish you peace and health during this holiday season.
posted by Augustus Blossom at 6:14 PM
3 Comments:
helluva blog ya got here, bloom. and that moniker "bloom" - is that meant to have Joycean echoes, or am i just reading stuff into it? anyway, i'm looking forward to hearing more about your literary adventures as the year progresses. funny, i thought you'd share some of your law school hijinks with readers, but you're probably using this blog as an escape from all that, huh? btw, i think you're an adept writer, what with your flee-flowing prose and all, and your gift for incisive analysis and such. While I have your attention, let me pick your brain and elicit your view on a li'l situation I got goin' on. Heh, Bloom, will you indulge me? So here goes: Let's say the protagonist of one of your stories leaves his as-yet-unnamed country for America, meets and bones a lot of women, encounters one woman from Mexico who has a particularly luscious vagina and knows her way around a johnson, so to speak, and then later our protagonist and this senorita lose touch for eight years, whereupon she calls him up out of the blue one day, looking to rekindle their relationship, only in the interim she's gone and gotten herself entangled in an unhappy marriage complete with two year old child, and now she's get back with our protagonist, who, of course, is finds the whole situation a bit dodgy and reluctantly immerses himself back into dealing with the senorita again, only because they had had great times, especially in the sack, and let's face it, our protagonist is a walking dick, so, lo and behold, one day the senorita announces she's visiting the city where the protagonist lives with the express purpose of visiting him after all these many years, which is ok with the protagonist since he doesn't beleive anything will happen, but he is pleasantly surprised when he and the senorita, the unhappily married senorita, wind up in bed, a veritable fuck fest threatening to rein out of control beyond their mutual capacity for feeling guilt at having committed the sin of - DRUM ROLL, PLEASE - ADULTERY. So now the protagonist and the senorita talk almost every day, and he tells her that he is uncertain of the future, that he still must return to South Africa, his home country, for more adventure and other stuff, which, unbeknownst to the lovely senorita, will include a carousing romp through bushels of Cape Town and South African poonanny, which has always been the dream of our protagonist: to marry a coloured south african women, though now he seems to be having second thoughts because he's really starting to like the senorita. Oh, what to do! So, monsieur bloom, pray deliver your impression of the situation in which our protagonist finds himself. And the question becomes: How long must our protagonist search for a womanly vessel to carry his seed to fruition, and is it necessary to continue looking forever if a woman, though not South African, stands poised to have her pussy pumped to the protagonist's ultimate satisfaction, and with the end result of having little spanish coloured children entering the world. I await your wisdom, dear bloom.
1:57 PM
my bad, blossom. i posted the previous entry wherein i repeatedly referred to you as bloom. what can I say, I've got puss on the brain. it won't happen again, monsieur blossom.
2:01 PM
Greetings Anonymous. Your blunder of calling me "bloom" while my name is the similar yet poetically distinct "blossom" is forgiven. Your story has potential. Work on it. Style is everything, substance nothing.
8:25 PM
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