Illusions

Dear reader, before you continue, I feel I owe you an explanation with regards to why I insist on calling myself Lord Samuel Undergartner. Small explanation, really. In my second year, I attended a birthday party, which tended to be a bit on the boring side, so a couple of friends and me decided to come up with fantasy titles of english nobility and act out the part for the remainder of the evening. Turns out I took the whole game a lot more seriously. But I was young, it was fun, and I'd do it again if I had to.

Anyway, onwards....

Illusions (for lack of a better title)


Random facts lead to outright unexpected results. Things said , or done, are nowadays implying or seeming to do so, something else-either magnified, or something ever so unexpected (translation- contrary to what was said)


The grump and the cynic both met at the same time, with apparently the same agenda in mind. Both met at the same time and beat the sense into and the shit out of me. Good thing and about time too. Guys, where the hell have you been? In their absence, quite unexpected aspects of personality had shown up, which, fortunately after several hard blows to the knocks, went back in. (I’m talking about the aspects)


Mush-hater!!! Detester of the color pink, anything remotely pinkish (not to laugh. I actually know a lovely lady with the same name), detested by self-professed lovers and people who consider it a style to have items of clothing in bizarre shades of pink, with even more bizarre designs.( Fashion sense deterioration-indication of the apocolypse perhaps? Laughable really). Realist ever so slightly, but more importantly, welcome back the idiot with whom I so seem to (unwillingly) identify with. Ladies and other unimportant people, hail the return of Lord Samuel Undergartner, younger lord of the house of the royal Undergartners.


Ins(h)pirations lost, aspirations regained, inspired idiots laughed at, inshpired unfortunates sympathized with, ideal dreams re-conjured, and all round fear arising due to lack of preparations. Utopia, the ideal place, lies in ruins, after having seemingly deserted me. So much for all things grand and perfect. Hope still exists, though! Perhaps some new inspirations I shall seek, or shall be sought after by. (hoping for the vice-versa effect to kick in), or perhaps accept the loss, which symbolizes the beginning, but not the end, gracefully or not, who’s watching.


Lord Undergartner’s back. Hide the mush candy.


To each inspired idiot, his own inspiration. To everyman, his own muse.


Cigarettes and curds will do the job for me!!!!


Cheers!!