Everyone has his story about the oddest place to be born. I suppose I was in a quite hurry to check myself out of my mum’s hotel one cold September night in Karlsruhe. The nurse rushed my mum in her bed down the hallway at record-breaking speed to the lift. Whilst the lift churned its way down to the birthing room, I emerged out into the good, bad, and ugly world. Ah, that wondrous aroma of burnt grease from the lift, the stale air of cigarette smoke (people did smoke in the hospitals in Germany back then), the faint fragrance of nurse’s body odour, and the cold and harsh illumination from the fluorescent lamps. What a marvellous and most uplifting way to enter the human race! No wonder I feel I am God or Jesus resurrecting from the mum's womb.
During the formative years, teachers, speech pathologists, school nurses, and various staff at school sometimes snuck a look into my scalp to see whether I carry the Mark of Beast or not. I conspired and masterminded many plots and schemes to take over the world whilst growing up in Germany. The speech pathologists were my favourite target as I had no love for their cruel and unusual approach to speech therapy, their antiseptic-flavoured fingers probing my mouth, their mephitic breath, their impossibly high expectation of us to utter the perfect pronouncation with perfect German accent, etc.
I am reputed to make people bloviate, turn man of a few words into the loquacious talker, pry the most secretive of secret into the open, conspire the most stubborn of stubborn to do what I say. My interrogation sessions are unlike those nefarious dark room with glaring bright lamp shining in your face, faceless men with smoky voices messing with your mind, spent cigarettes on the floor, ok, ok, you get the idea. My classmates took the heat for me because they were too gullible to see it coming. Thenceforward, my expertise as éminence grise. No doubt about the spy organisations desiring my interrogation skills.
I sometimes frighten myself and people with my encyclopædic knowledge of many trivial stuff. My friends guard their credit cards very carefully and keep them close to their chests because my eidetic memory proves to be useful many times. I am connoisseur of avant-garde, bizarre, surrealist, experimental stuff, people, places, designs, films, writings, ad infinitum (thanks to the Uranus in Virgo in my natal chart).
I experience lot of paranormal shit that makes Exorcist look tame in comparison (not really but close), and pretty much lot of stuff in my life, including being a deaf waiter and sales associate. Many times do I improvise funny acts and have overacting imaginations. My friends have me instead of Prozac to brighten their mood with my jokes and funny stories.
Ah, here's the result of entering my name in the acronym generator.
O Outrageous
L Lucky
I Innocent
V Vigorous
E Enjoyable
R Relaxed
May your succulent earlobes ever flap about my knees like a thousand wooden pigeons fleeing the local sawmill. Ever so slightly, you remind me of a staircase falling exotically into a sea of spilled macaroni. Cretins and vermin cannot compare with the depths of your lassitude. Your nose hairs scare me. Optical delusions still themselves when you pass by in convexing pomp and sacral trance. Entranced by the bitter harmony of your lips, I gaze beyond reason to find the oasis of your ruptured soul.
