Or “What Happens When I Try Yet Again To Blog, After Umpteen Times, In Various Forms and Fates”, that is, if one wanted to be completely honest.

However, one man’s virtue, another man’s vice and all that… This time, I have given up any pretense at attempting some semblance of cohesiveness. This is just me rambling. There won’t be much else. As Hugh Grant’s eternal bachelor says in the film About A Boy, “I really am this shallow.”

Right. How does one do this? Let’s try this on for size:

~ * ~

Kenny is a writer. He writes really, really short stories or micro-fiction.

Fortunately for him, given the average attention span of his fellow men (and women too) these days, this actually works in his favour. He has written several books, three of them in e-book format: Brutal Virtues, Broken Mornings, 27 Love Songs and Lady. He believes one day, all books will disappear from the face of the earth. Till then, he is reading as many of them as he can before they are all gone.

He has discovered that everytime one does not follow the voice of one’s heart, a fairy somewhere dies. (Or a priest turns into a politician, whichever’s more horrifying.) So far, he has killed 317 fairies (or converted priests 317 into politicians). He’s not proud of this, but 318th time’s the charm, eh?

Currently he’s training to be a Les Mills BodyBalance instructor partly out of passion, but mostly because the eejit hasn’t found the sense to run away from a challenge yet. You’ll see him very often at the gym, sometimes more so than the people who get paid to be there. Despite this, he doesn’t look like Ryan Reynolds yet, though he looks happy enough. (Perhaps happier than most of the people who work and work out at gyms, even.)

He has lived in Germany and Indonesia before. Not surprisingly, he is fluent in neither language. He spent a lot of time riding the U-bahn in one, hailing mafia-driven taxis in the other. His favourite place in the world is Tuscany, where unlike the rest of Europe, he does not get mistaken for Thai, Korean or Vietnamese. (All very delicious, though. The food, I mean.)

He does not need love, a soulmate, a life partner, et cetera, but seriously folks, wouldn’t mind one. Be careful of him, he can flirt with a Himalayan yak if you let him, but only when he isn’t too lazy to woo. Apathy and romance doesn’t mix well, apparently. If only he would listen to his heart, to its poor, long-suffering voice. But then again, he’s killed 317 fairies already (or, you know, converted 317 priests), what’s one more?

After all, his life is just beginning…

~ * ~

That being out of the way, let’s get on with the business of being ourselves and being happy. (Not to mention the ecstasy of failing but at least we tried, right?) There will always be time to be afraid and to judge later. Spread the news, boys and girls!

April 7, 2007

N.B. The original all-about-me, circa 2004, can be found here: (In Lieu of An Actual Biography) Confessions of An Accomplished Failure Wishing to Seek An Alternative Career.