About Me
upon birth, the world enveloped me like a mother's womb. my aunt was the first to hold me. she called me "sweet william", and continued in doing so for the next 23 years. i was named william clarence cannon iii, for my father, and my father's father, and as the rightful heir to cannon-hood, i layed my claim upon being so-named.
my testicles immediately dropped.
"it's a boy!", my mother, the nurses, and doctors exclaimed. "i just knew william was the choicest fit, i saw his name in the entrails of a sardine, the can of which cut me deeply, whilst the sardine itself caused such a calamity in my person that i could hardly say i've had a more dreadful experience", my mother announced rather triumphantly. her name is aurelia, which in some expired tongue means "golden"; a most fitting nomenclature indeed!
we left the hospital under the guise of italian merchants, my mother now in men's clothing, which included an extravagant hat, crested by a peacock's plume. she layed a hairy catipillar on my lip, commanded it not to move, and then placed in my hands some prestigious-looking documents, and tied a small coinpurse to my waist. for some strange reason, even as a man now, i have a penchant for the holding of fine purses.
i spent most of my youth traveling from town to town and school to school. my father's business demanded it, and as my filial duties would have it, i was obliged to join him and the rest of my family, as we searched for the ever-so-elusive home that continued to escape us. somewhere along the way, i think it was the commonwealth of georgia, a girl named coleen shat in my chest-box and made me cry uncontrollably. all i wanted was to dance, and to perfect the prussian waltz, which wasnt prussian or a waltz at all. later, on this very same day, a carrier-penguin delivered her acceptance of my invitation for dancing. how marvelous!! Now i could run around her in circles flailing my arms screaming "prussian waltz! prussian waltz!!" over and over again. and when she arrived, i did. she then proceded to burst into tears, and was sent home promptly. i was in the 3rd grade.
"Onward!! to Charles Towne!!", my father belted out, as we packed our belongings on a makeshift raft, which we then tied to our vehicle and dragged down the highway. This harbor town has been my home for the past 13 years.
most of this time was regrettably dull until i was 20 years of age. i befriended a most-charming, sophisticated man, whom for anonymity’s sake we'll call polemarchus moribund. as our undertakings, we took to writing manuscripts for novels, for films, and philosophy. upon their completion, we beheld them as if we were laymen, and promptly destroyed their remnants, for they were filled with such staggering genius, that we feared we would be unable to cope, should the public learn of them.
it was also during this time that i was enlisted to serve as the fourth member of a three-man quartet. i was to play the thumb-tacks and the tally-whacks, the nick-knacks and paddy-wacks. I quickly learned that none of these were actually instruments of music, but rather intruments of idle-minded tom-foolery. we dashed it all, and settled on the black-and-white-toothed noise box as my instrument. we still continue to make humbly-dulcet tones, and perform under the monicker of masahiro.
these recent fortunes, the friendship of polemarchus and the creation of sing-song-melody-cheer, left me utterly content.
imagine my joy when my circumstances improved! i had yet to meet polemarchus' woman-equal, gertrude himmelfarb, and when he told me that my oppourtunity had arrived, i was nearly floored with elation.
making the journey with gertude was distelfinklily montecito. they both arrived promptly, dressed in the finest of linens, surpassing in richness even the finest of gowns. naturally, i offered to relieve them of their purses. this was the first visit.
indubitably i was overjoyed to hear that there were to be a second. because our fair visitors were from athens, we went to the finest grecian victual-house the world has ever known, or ever will. my affinity for purse-clutching got the best of me while dining, as your most-clumsy narrator dispursed with the contents of distelfinklily's purse. overcome with embarrassment, and with the tenacity of the most zealous of zealots, i quickly became prostrate to aquire the contents of such a grand display of hand-baggery. our most lovely guests were not in the least perturbed with my bumbling idiocy, and for the rest of the day, the four of us laughed and dined in the way that greeks do. with their fleeting, i longed for their return.
this is how we were, and much is the same, save the ever-growing fondness we all have for giggly-things and innocent acts of ninnery.this is the band i am in if you wanna check it out
