After
six decades of living in a psychologically discombobulated reality we
regard as our nogginal ambiances, viewed as a pilgarlic by many of
our inlaws and others who we really don't give a rats behind about,
we have found a way to live in an undysfunctional tangibility. We
have simply divided our psych into eleven distinct personages and for
whatever undertaking we are currently addicted with, we allow the
appropriate miscreant to take the lead. Eleven is one short of the
complete zodiac, however we think we have uncovered a twelfth rascal
lurking about as about once or twice a year we wake up with a
terrific hangover with no recollections of having imbibed with
spirits of any sort. Our list therefore includes the following
rascals:
1)
the mollifying symposiarch
2)
the ebullient scribler
3)
the anarchistic politician
4)
the reclusive scholar
5)
the agnostic philosopher
6)
the inventive grease monkey
7)
the impish dilettante
8)
the gnostic sojourner
9)
the terraqueous adventurer
10)
the surreptitious smuggler
11)
the manic charmer
12)
the local drunk
In
an effort to externalize ourselves and get a grip on what we were
dealing with here, we placed ourselves in the zodiac by our month of
coming out, so to speak, and low and behold we filled the entire
zodiac with each of our twelve persona’s fitting solidly into its'
own separate constellation. The local drunk was placed from the time
of our first known lapse of recall. We showed this chart to a well
known local astrologer who said it was absolutely amazing. She was
going to study it in great detail and try to find some history on
similar incidents. When we hear back from her we will let you know
whether this is normal, or if the books of astrology will have to be
rewritten.
In
the meantime, mostly in an attempt to get to know each other better,
we have each agreed to write a little blog post about ourselves,
whatever form it may take. So in the next few weeks, we hope no one
bores you to death.
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