I Thought You Were Better

by thekathmandudes

 

Just like every week, I met him today. He’s a normal bloke. There’s nothing remarkable about his brusque appearance or his dreary personality that easily manifests to anyone. In fact, he’s just another imbecile to our pseudo-intelligent world where people merely babble and dabble and nimbly bite the dust. Such has been our way of overcoming the insipid nature of true reality. I sometimes find that the old masters were hilarious. In sooth, they were the true pseudo-intellects not others. Others are normal unlike their mind-fuck brains. I myself, on a daily basis assert to everyone that I am an imbecile too. But, it’s a clever disguise of my disguise to disguise myself from what others think about the disguise with I evince lucidly to them.  This looks like a clever sentence but it’s not. It’s a pseudo intellect sentence.  “It is!” I have to emphasize and upon this accentuation, I lucidly evince my disguise to lead you into thinking that I am a pretty veritable being. See, a pseudo intellect! Already trying…..

The matter at hand is that he was no pseudo intellect. He was pretty normal and he didn’t even try. That’s hard with us nowadays that we can’t act normally. I have come to a conclusion that one’s pet is what one is.  I have been observing the diverse tendencies and inclinations of animals, especially, dogs that are petted in particular. Sometimes, there can be observed a myriad of similarities and none of which are manipulated of course. There an old cliché that, you’ll see what you believe, but I swear on my balls that my convictions have not been such manipulative in the least.  For example, I have a lady friend who is often sweet like a child and I like her very much, I have to add which clearly depicts that I have no scruples against her. But in sooth, she is very plastic. I have never held it out against her, I emphasise. And so is her dog. That little devil of a pug with its nimble gait and adorable wrung out face!

………so, I was saying that he was a common folk and nothing more. At the onset, there were a few fleeting glances and then we cared to show common acknowledgement through our faint smiles and then our handshakes became firm and then we started to accost each other and before we knew it, we were already spending more than enough time in local tea stalls and cringed cafés by the roadside. That’s what two good male friends in Kathmandu do. Drink a hundred glasses of tea and smoke a thousand cigarettes’ a day in a humble commonplace until the dusk begins to fade out. It’s very therapeutic, I have to add.  At Kathmandu, when men are not busy staring at curvy and delicious bosoms of women they actually spend their leisurely hours at such cafés. And so were we.

I am already feeling a wee bit tipsy. I like wine but it always makes me pant and act raucously. God bless the child who made thee! Long story short, he died today. My fellow brother succumbed to an ideal. He was murdered by the mass masquerade of the utopian idealism which is juxtaposed with fibbing and lying altogether.

In super short, I found out that by the virtue of my acquaintance and indelible friendship he has turned into a non conformist just like me. I always manage to spread my decadence, it seems. I thought you were better than me, man!

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