Ladies and Gentlemen.
Welcome to the first and last screening of my life. I can't promise you that you won't regret coming here tonight, nor can I promise that you'll care either. Sit back, and try to realize that none of this really matters. Because after all, this is just a show, and soon you'll go back to your own lives, with your own worries, and all this will be forgotten. At best, tonight's show will make you think. If you choose to do so, do. If not, don't. And if you don't care, then by all means, leave now. Leave and get yourself a latté, and succumb to the sensual delights of the instant gratification you've just bought yourself for 4 bucks. I hope you enjoy.
I was born. Nothing really unusual there. As far as I know, most people go through the same process. The event may or may not hold any special meaning for some people. Maybe if I could remember it, it would regard it with especial sentiment too.
The next couple of years are also quite unremarkable. As I have no clear recol lection of the first four years of my life, I shall omit them in this writing. For all I know (or care for that matter), those years didn't even occur. If they didn't, I wouldn't feel much of a loss in any case.
I attended montessori preschool. It was an interesting experience, however I was five at the time, and therefore did not possess very sophisticated tastes when dealing with entertainment/activities. There were two teachers, both female. The first I cannot recall clearly, therefore she does n ot exist as far as I know or care. The other however, I do remember distinctly. She was a matronly sort, in her forties. If I remember correctly (which I probably don't seeing as memory is an arbitrary and unreliable thing) she was from Sri Lanka. She also seemed to insist that all of her students should complete "three good works" every day. I remember being confused about what a good work actually was one day. There was an activity where one was given blocks to stack in a particular shape. Apparently this did not fall under the category of good work, wheras stacking blocks with numbers on them did. How strange.
It was about this time where I walked into Mom and Dad's bedroom and observed something both disturbing and confusing. Sex is a truly fascinating thing. When it is being engaged upon by the two individuals who concieved you in front of your very eyes... that's a different story, I may tell you. There was a desk in that room. It was a nice desk. I wonder what happened to it?
*I'll now pause for an early intermission, washroom break. Feel free to purchase comestibles from the bar in the lobby. Seems like the thing that people do at a theatre. Eat. Ingest. Consume.*t
Welcome to the first and last screening of my life. I can't promise you that you won't regret coming here tonight, nor can I promise that you'll care either. Sit back, and try to realize that none of this really matters. Because after all, this is just a show, and soon you'll go back to your own lives, with your own worries, and all this will be forgotten. At best, tonight's show will make you think. If you choose to do so, do. If not, don't. And if you don't care, then by all means, leave now. Leave and get yourself a latté, and succumb to the sensual delights of the instant gratification you've just bought yourself for 4 bucks. I hope you enjoy.
I was born. Nothing really unusual there. As far as I know, most people go through the same process. The event may or may not hold any special meaning for some people. Maybe if I could remember it, it would regard it with especial sentiment too.
The next couple of years are also quite unremarkable. As I have no clear recol lection of the first four years of my life, I shall omit them in this writing. For all I know (or care for that matter), those years didn't even occur. If they didn't, I wouldn't feel much of a loss in any case.
I attended montessori preschool. It was an interesting experience, however I was five at the time, and therefore did not possess very sophisticated tastes when dealing with entertainment/activities. There were two teachers, both female. The first I cannot recall clearly, therefore she does n ot exist as far as I know or care. The other however, I do remember distinctly. She was a matronly sort, in her forties. If I remember correctly (which I probably don't seeing as memory is an arbitrary and unreliable thing) she was from Sri Lanka. She also seemed to insist that all of her students should complete "three good works" every day. I remember being confused about what a good work actually was one day. There was an activity where one was given blocks to stack in a particular shape. Apparently this did not fall under the category of good work, wheras stacking blocks with numbers on them did. How strange.
It was about this time where I walked into Mom and Dad's bedroom and observed something both disturbing and confusing. Sex is a truly fascinating thing. When it is being engaged upon by the two individuals who concieved you in front of your very eyes... that's a different story, I may tell you. There was a desk in that room. It was a nice desk. I wonder what happened to it?
*I'll now pause for an early intermission, washroom break. Feel free to purchase comestibles from the bar in the lobby. Seems like the thing that people do at a theatre. Eat. Ingest. Consume.*t
posted by Kahloke | 1:33 AM
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