Confession: I had to double check the dictionary for the meaning of the word “slut” in order to use it properly in this piece.
I’m that kind of writer.
Careful with, and thoughtful of, the words I use.
I may err with grammar, or poor vocabulary choice.
But never with intention.
So, no slice of life in this article.
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I’m also this kind of writer: I often mix up profound ideas and pedestrian language.
I like exciting.
I like exciting people, getting them pumped up.
Even if it means giving them a shock.
Or a heart attack.
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I also like being unpredictable.
I am not moody.
I do not have mood swings.
I create the moods.
I create the emotional swings.
Everything is really planned.
Under control.
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I can be Peter Solis Nery, the profound philosopher.
The serious thinker.
The great opinion of my generation.
The great mind.
The boring, thinking, articulate guy like Plato and Descartes and Heidegger.
But I don’t like to be that.
Or be just all like that.
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I want to be Peter Solis Nery, also the trickster.
A.k.a. the prankster.
Someone with a great degree of intellect and secret knowledge.
And using them to play tricks.
And otherwise disobey normal rules and conventional behavior.
I want to be a fun person.
Fun to be with.
Fun to f*ck with, if you ever dare.
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I don’t take myself too seriously.
That’s why my critics cannot do something to hurt me.
That’s why they go crazy.
The trick is on them.
Because I always end up smarter than they are.
I always outwit them 10:1.
Actually, make that my 10 to their one-half.
Losers! Haha.
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And so it happens that I do something serious and deeply moving one day.
And often it is just writing.
And the next day, I do something really crazy.
Slutty even.
Sexy.
Or obnoxious.
Just to remind everyone that I am also a trickster.
I like my life this way.
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My unpredictably keeps me young.
Keeps me, makes me, exciting.
I keep people guessing.
And I always make sure they guess wrongly.
Just when they could almost predict my downfall, I rise.
And rise triumphant.
It drives them crazy.
And I love it!
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My unpredictability also keeps me interesting.
People always want to see what I’m going to do next.
I surprise my fans and supporters.
I delight them because they continue to discover new things about me.
Or, even if they are the same old tricks, my true and loyal supporters are always glad to discover I could push these tricks several degrees higher, or several levels deeper, whichever way you want to think it.
But for those who really love me, they adore my chameleon-like versatility.
And the expanse of my great mind.
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My haters, they eat my sh*t.
Because they’ll never come close to my greatness.
Or my notoriety, for that matter.
Whatever I do, I always do better than they can.
I’m super smart.
I’m super bad.
I’m super. Period.
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Seriously, the best way for these losers to do is just to ignore me.
I mean, they’re stressing themselves out thinking how to hurt me.
They’re giving themselves a headache, not me!
I mean, I cannot possibly give them a headache.
I am just Peter Solis Nery.
I’m not a merciful God.
I mean, if the Omniscient is merciful, they’d be put out of their miseries already.
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But they refuse to listen to God.
They have the envious attitude of Cain.
Do I have the sign of Cain — that curse will be upon them sevenfold if they try to hurt me?
I mean, how can their tiny brains try to cook up a disaster to bring me down if they’re smaller than a mung bean?
Of course, they’ll have a headache.
Of course, their brains will be overworked.
Of course, their brains will malfunction.
Of course, they’ll go crazy!
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But these people cannot ignore me.
Like you can’t ignore me, if you are reading this far.
Why can’t they just ignore me?
Because I make it so!
Because I am that powerful.
Because I make waves whatever I do, or do not do.
Or, do not wear.
Because they are bound to hear what I do, or do not wear, from their circle of friends and acquaintances.
That’s my power.
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And that’s not even my superpower yet.
I really want to reveal my superpower to you.
Because somehow I want to be understood once and for all.
But you know what?
It’s not worth it.
You are bound to misunderstand me anyway.
I mean, if you can’t understand the profundity of this piece I’ve just written, how can I expect you to absorb my superpower?
So, it’s better to just keep you guessing:
What will Peter Solis Nery write next? (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)
