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You may never have doubted for a moment that Selena Dreamy is for real. But since, according to a number of incredulous observers, Miss D. does not actually exist, it may be as well to revise my profile. So I’ve settled on this because too many distorted versions of my life have been appearing. In truth, I myself, may on occasion have been rather liberal in my management of the facts, and not because as a female I am subject to moods, but precisely because the intolerance and bigotry of contemporary society left me no choice but to strive for mastery in the art of dissimulation. And if I have laid some false trails, concealing my emotions behind a stance of non-restraint and total nymphomania, please be assured that I have measured all the responsibilities that accompany them.
And yet, at the core of this pseudo-fabrication is a person. The most substantive and provocative fusion of Selena Dreamy's private and public selves, the embodiment of complementarity - alert, responsive and absolutely reciprocal. One day she is naive, innocent, trusting, a girl of ten, the next I am the Delphic Pythia, a thousand years old, knowing everything. No doubt this is all
part of the psychological process by which my earlier life has ceased to exist
and I am committed in every sense to the future of the species. A profligate, wildly cerebral woman with exquisite taste in everything except the right man. Before I was ten, I understood that human consciousness is not only a medium of exchange between different bodies in space, but a property of space-time itself. Two years later, I had reinvented the solution to a crucial
problem in quantum theory. Indeed, on the journey we are about to undertake,
such secrets as have been revealed to me in all I have written to date, are
merely the tip of an iceberg. I am the virus of a chain waiting to become
contagious. In short, I am the chosen one. But only, of course, if you, the
plebs, do so desire.
And now, if you will excuse me, a Dresden Opera matinee recording of
Wagner’s Siegfried is shortly to commence on Radio 3, and I intend to
listen to Brünnhilde whilst reclining in the bath...
Dreamy
13 comments:
Modesty never was your style I guess. That's okay.
I resent being called the plebs though. Be careful, or you will provoke a revolution. Always treat the plebs as if they weren't the plebs.
Interesting to speculate on how closely a persona one might choose for oneself resembles that which others see in real life... is it a complete fabrication, a total disguise - or does it highlight inner traits one feels deeply but hides from people. Or does it comprise wished-for characteristics. Might it even simply be including those items of personality and appearance that sugar the pill of difficult subject matter for the audience?
Hard to tell... either way, I've never met anyone quite like you. Apart from anything else, perfect 37 year old asses are hard to come by.
A very shrewd and totally apt analysis, ASU, of a fixation often referred to as a Messiah Complex. Best to be deprecated rather than taken seriously, few of us entirely escape it.
Though, predictably, in my own case, you (and the Vatican) are cordially invited to authenticate the miracle (involving Senora Pilar Sánchez Muñoz ) I am going to perform on your own website at .... (approximately) 18 hours GMT!
BLOGGERS REPENT....
Modesty never was your style I guess.
...and how could Selena not have had the modesty to take a pseudonym when attaching her shocking reputation and her high art to such an event as the Second Coming?
Let’s face it, Gentlemen, while gravitational force has long been replaced by the curvature of space-time, and the Newtonian universe by the passive cerebration of anthropomorphic intelligence, the Eucharist, as understood by Catholics, is but an extremely outdated doctrine, a blend of witchcraft, voodoo and medieval Christianity...
Surely an acute choice of options...
La señora Alcaldesa is beyond improvement, Dreamboat. Even in the ass department, no doubt, if one were indiscreet enough to look.
I'm thinking it's time I upped my own image on the blog. Any suggestions as to which parts of the male anatomy (if any) I should highlight would be welcomed.
Then there's the question of a persona to choose... hmmmm.. the one thing I shall try to avoid is the implication that I'm not appreciated enough even though I try, oh god how I try, to please everyone. There's too much of it about in Blogland. Your place excluded, of course! (so far!)
I'm thinking it's time I upped my own image on the blog. Any suggestions as to which parts of the male anatomy (if any) I should highlight would be welcomed.
I believe I may assert that I'm entirely conscious of exactly how beguiling and eye-catching the middle-aged, erect male anatomy is - but I also tend to think that blogging folk are above the rampant imposition of impromptu carnal revelations, so my suggestion would be a computer-tomography of the ASU cerebellum....
Yes, and on second thoughts.. it would probably attract the wrong gender.
Gracias por su milagro que es estupendo.
Esto, sin embargo, no es un problema práctico, sólo un principio. La falacia, en definitiva, es el error ideal para el real...
Are you sure it is your brain that has a fantastic ass? Isn't it your body?
I am trying to imagine what the ass of a brain looks like you see...
Personally I can't do brazen immodesty and the revelation of my delusions of gradeur (presuming they be delusions, which would be a reasonable assumption I suppose)
But each to their own, as it is said...
Are you sure it is your brain that has a fantastic ass? Isn't it your body?
Ahh...the stylist - I'm glad it was you who caught me out...touché!
Given that it's back where it should be, your description of the more bounteous aspect of your corporeal form, supplies one further reason, beyond dialogue, to look forward to meeting you, Oh Dreamy:)
Were such to be possible.
When the veil over thy identity is to be removed, if it is.
Not that I wished in the above remark to be ungentlemanly, of course.
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