CnGy
03-31-2009, 11:46 PM
I have to do this and I don't know how I'm going to remember it.
And it sucks.
Enjoy
Miss Adelle Adieu is an old lady. She speaks to death now, as she in general terms, goes batshit insane.
Oh now darling, let's have a seat. Right here's just fine, on this spot of earth. Well, how have you been convulsing the agendas of the sycophants and ending the progress of the infinite amounts of the popularly intellectual apartheid and vehement public tangents of reticent dissonance.
How do you do, you know me, my name is Miss Adelle Adieu. I suppose you would like to know a little bit about me.
As early as three I was plagued with the age-old disease of curiosity. Looking, searching, running, hiding, tagging, day dreaming, music screaming, house-hold cleaning, dog walking, gossip talking, philosophically musing, gradually becoming a person of whimsical proportions.
Finding the meaning in life through simple things. You know?
When I was six I absolutely adored walking my dog Jeffory, down the forest paths in my skip-de-doo step-father's voracious vacation home on the beaches of France, the country of my heart, I had many countries, I had many hearts. Indeed the lessons of my parents, like our travels, often transcended the trivial virtues of traditional free thinkers. We were a family of free spirits, forced to bind our fiery souls down our fated trajectory. My swim down the stream of life was rubbled with rocks and rapid brooks of fishy fates and bear enemies.
I was fast to grow, that much was certain, one of my main goals was always the grandest human pursuit of earthly knowledge, the most terrible scientific vice. I managed to rise through the social hierarchy of the schools and of the many cliques and friendless societies with the utmost ease. People were puppets, they are puppets. It might be granulated from the fact that I was indeed a looker, and I was in the most definite sense of the word. And as such, it never entered into my goal in life to be attractive, or popular, I just was. It was a mere variable that I could use to achieve much grander, devious goals.
So many goals, so little time. If I must through with death sir, in the most mortal of ways, an organization most keen to the mind, a grouping of three, three goals for me, three goals for this life of mine, three goals that sum up all of this wonderful. The first of these suckers is goal number one, and it is important.
To understand my world, my environment. If you don't know what's around you, you're going to miss out and find o yourself behind in no time.
A common first step in this is a correctly appropriated domicile. Good trimmings and a truly intelligent design. And what does every home need, why a good pet of course.
I remember for instance one with Jeffory I had come to a clearing in the woods. Something happened and Jeffory came loose from my grip and ran right out into the very field! I of course ran after him, long wet grass grabbed at my boots and fog clouded my glasses. And then I came to see Jeffory, placed between two brushings of grassy weeds on a soft spot of soil, quietly licking the dead head of a racoon. It was stark save for one eye. That eye looked at me and I could feel the cold clutches of your grasp. You were there.
You did your job well. How is Jeffory? He's been dead for so long..
I know. I'm sure he's fine. That's just the way the world is. JFK and Hitler, Roosevelt and Stalin, from depression to recession, funeral procession to wedding reception. I've traveled through the world and it isn't pretty sir. No matter if in Bangladesh or Los Angeles, Tokyo freeway or New York strip mall. Alaska wild or Amazonian tropical. I've seen it all, mostly.
My people? The human race? They've been forever in place, ancient mystical knowledge in awaits me, though I have no avarice, there are a few iotas of pride. Anyways, onto my second spire of aspiration, to understand myself.
My ethics, the core of my being, my code of values, stem from a vast investment in the contrived progression of knowing myself and maintaining my self image.
Even as a young child, when someone stormed my castle in the sandbox, I knew that the response must be to declare war! This was possibly of course a model behavior influenced by the strict tutelage of my army uncle Emanuel Adieu. Captain of the seas, he sailed the high waves until he died. He was strangled by the sailing ropes, his body swung in the wind for hours tangled in the lines before they could cut him down to throw him away to his watery grave. Death, a sacrifice, or the deepest of reliefs?
Ah, such is goal numero tres, Monsieur Macabre. To know that which is unknown. I cannot in good faith say that this is a realistic goal of any sort. A vain fantasy! But I can now indeed reconcile with this status. What I cannot know cannot harm me. To not necessarily know but accept all of life's many intricacies, that is the only real goal.
Acceptance of the infinite.
And n ow, to go with you sir angel of the fatal door.
Hello, sweet Death. Goodbye Life no more.
So how much did it suck?
And it sucks.
Enjoy
Miss Adelle Adieu is an old lady. She speaks to death now, as she in general terms, goes batshit insane.
Oh now darling, let's have a seat. Right here's just fine, on this spot of earth. Well, how have you been convulsing the agendas of the sycophants and ending the progress of the infinite amounts of the popularly intellectual apartheid and vehement public tangents of reticent dissonance.
How do you do, you know me, my name is Miss Adelle Adieu. I suppose you would like to know a little bit about me.
As early as three I was plagued with the age-old disease of curiosity. Looking, searching, running, hiding, tagging, day dreaming, music screaming, house-hold cleaning, dog walking, gossip talking, philosophically musing, gradually becoming a person of whimsical proportions.
Finding the meaning in life through simple things. You know?
When I was six I absolutely adored walking my dog Jeffory, down the forest paths in my skip-de-doo step-father's voracious vacation home on the beaches of France, the country of my heart, I had many countries, I had many hearts. Indeed the lessons of my parents, like our travels, often transcended the trivial virtues of traditional free thinkers. We were a family of free spirits, forced to bind our fiery souls down our fated trajectory. My swim down the stream of life was rubbled with rocks and rapid brooks of fishy fates and bear enemies.
I was fast to grow, that much was certain, one of my main goals was always the grandest human pursuit of earthly knowledge, the most terrible scientific vice. I managed to rise through the social hierarchy of the schools and of the many cliques and friendless societies with the utmost ease. People were puppets, they are puppets. It might be granulated from the fact that I was indeed a looker, and I was in the most definite sense of the word. And as such, it never entered into my goal in life to be attractive, or popular, I just was. It was a mere variable that I could use to achieve much grander, devious goals.
So many goals, so little time. If I must through with death sir, in the most mortal of ways, an organization most keen to the mind, a grouping of three, three goals for me, three goals for this life of mine, three goals that sum up all of this wonderful. The first of these suckers is goal number one, and it is important.
To understand my world, my environment. If you don't know what's around you, you're going to miss out and find o yourself behind in no time.
A common first step in this is a correctly appropriated domicile. Good trimmings and a truly intelligent design. And what does every home need, why a good pet of course.
I remember for instance one with Jeffory I had come to a clearing in the woods. Something happened and Jeffory came loose from my grip and ran right out into the very field! I of course ran after him, long wet grass grabbed at my boots and fog clouded my glasses. And then I came to see Jeffory, placed between two brushings of grassy weeds on a soft spot of soil, quietly licking the dead head of a racoon. It was stark save for one eye. That eye looked at me and I could feel the cold clutches of your grasp. You were there.
You did your job well. How is Jeffory? He's been dead for so long..
I know. I'm sure he's fine. That's just the way the world is. JFK and Hitler, Roosevelt and Stalin, from depression to recession, funeral procession to wedding reception. I've traveled through the world and it isn't pretty sir. No matter if in Bangladesh or Los Angeles, Tokyo freeway or New York strip mall. Alaska wild or Amazonian tropical. I've seen it all, mostly.
My people? The human race? They've been forever in place, ancient mystical knowledge in awaits me, though I have no avarice, there are a few iotas of pride. Anyways, onto my second spire of aspiration, to understand myself.
My ethics, the core of my being, my code of values, stem from a vast investment in the contrived progression of knowing myself and maintaining my self image.
Even as a young child, when someone stormed my castle in the sandbox, I knew that the response must be to declare war! This was possibly of course a model behavior influenced by the strict tutelage of my army uncle Emanuel Adieu. Captain of the seas, he sailed the high waves until he died. He was strangled by the sailing ropes, his body swung in the wind for hours tangled in the lines before they could cut him down to throw him away to his watery grave. Death, a sacrifice, or the deepest of reliefs?
Ah, such is goal numero tres, Monsieur Macabre. To know that which is unknown. I cannot in good faith say that this is a realistic goal of any sort. A vain fantasy! But I can now indeed reconcile with this status. What I cannot know cannot harm me. To not necessarily know but accept all of life's many intricacies, that is the only real goal.
Acceptance of the infinite.
And n ow, to go with you sir angel of the fatal door.
Hello, sweet Death. Goodbye Life no more.
So how much did it suck?