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Hello! It is I, Festoon. I am an aspiring writer, currently attending, Harbor College. I like sports, movies, music, and of course, video games. (Specifics listed below). I am always willing to try new activities, and try to keep an open mind, in as many ways as possible. Anyhow, sorry for the redundant read, and have an excellent day! :)
P.S. Can you wink your left eye, pause, then wink your right eye? How about in reverse?
P.S.S. Did you know, that I was named after a cleat, AND a, (now extinct), species of mushroom?
P.S.S.S. (Last one, I promise). If you leave a white, (yellow when illuminated), bulb on while you sleep, the chances of your dreams taking place in a sunbathed meadow, filled with striding niacin tablets, orange marmosets disguised as precocious IRS, (Iodine Residue Servants), and finally batches of eager egrets spilling loads of barley, lentils, and over-sized wristwatches into your agape cargo hatch, (otherwise known as your mouth), increase by *approximately 74 and 3/4 percent? (*Based on research conducted by and for the 7/3rd's Bering Suit Tinsel Company).
Have you really read this far? Fascinating! Simply stupendous, EXTRAORDINARY! You deserve a patch, so long as you have a vest to sew it upon. Here it is, "The Egregious Positivity Medal: Patience Properly Peddled."
Do not go gentle into that good night,Old age should burn and rave at close of day;Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Though wise men at their end know dark is right,Because their words had forked no lightning theyDo not go gentle into that good night.Good men, the last wave by, crying how brightTheir frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,Do not go gentle into that good night.Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sightBlind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,Rage, rage against the dying of the light.And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Dylan Thomas, 1914 - 1953