Oct 3, 2011

Because a prose dont need to rhyme, amirite?

Thus endeth my first semester in the university;
T'was a trying time indeed,
with daily ritual of going up and down a
and a weekly one-hour-plus bus ride to the lab session.
And many a stupidly ill-scheduled extracurricular classes,
didst resulting in thy Narrator-
whose legendary lazyness and
his  "Aww, fuck it.." philosophy in life
which may or may not be well known;
-need to repeat that one stupid fucking course
sometime in the near future.

T'was many annoyances didst
he encounterth though,
for instance, there was this dickhead
-May the Devils gangbang thy soul, amen;
whose ungentlemanly misconduct of
stealing thy Narrator's wallet
did bluesth his heart
for a day or two.

T'was some smiles didst
he honestly enjoyeth though,
for instance, there is this sweet-ass lookin guitar
whose mere ownership of-
didst nearly carve a permanent grin
on thy Narrator's mug,
-though understandably this little fact
didst rage his mother
for a ten minutes or two.

A Samick Royale RL 1, with self added Chess Record logo.

So thy Narrator is now
facing a little break for-
a stretch of a month or something;
Thus he didst himself thinketh of
spending most of that time on his stupid blog
and immerse himself in the study of
the art of music generally,
and art of guitaring specifically..

However there are some facts
which may or may not be well known;
his  "Aww, fuck it.." philosophy in life
and his legendary lazyness-
held thy Narrator absolutely unaccountable
for any claims that he
had uttered
so casually.

-But he didst admits
spouting bullshit
in made up
does had its own fun,


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