Post #1

My dear friends, this perhaps begins a meager and wanting stroll through the black-topped, baffling bypaths which advance beneath our poorly turpid morality, ever only to find themselves fornicating on the doorstep of a mutant, aboriginal god, to whom we owe all reverence and neverending praise; a beast who afterall gives meaninglessness to all of our most profound inquiries, and boasts a mighty sack of heads.

Years ago, when I was a younger man, rather a boy, I lied upon returning from micronesia that I had in fact learned to speak the language. Assuming a nobility of stature give with ease only by children, I'd atop a stump, one hand upon a bent knee the other arm bent, forming that infamous "spout", with fist fast against my hip. And I'd spout some gibberish and translate it for my ethinically diverse (one was adopted and black) group of very interested neighborhood friends. They were very impressed, I recall, over the story of that school-yard micronesian bully who threw a pocket knife so that it stuck, hilt deep really, in the palm of some poor thief's hand (who would to make off with the bully's older sister). A story so terrible to tell that I was sorry to be uanble to narrate it in the original micronesian in which it had occured.... I'm more of a purist now so I won't even try, as much as I would enjoy writing an entire page of bullshit.