Dear Reader

This blog may not be detected. This blog may not even be seen by no one but my own eyes. Nevertheless; I stare at this white empty space, waiting for the endless flow of words. 

Rest in peace, Kenko.

I address this blog to a certain fantasy amongst fantasies. I have names for said fantasy; albeit, I prefer to strut random callings and forget them by the next day for the fantasy is uncertain. Much like how Master Oogway talks about the uncertainty of the future, I am living in the present to talk to Peter until cutting off our ties until the next time I remember him. Peter was conjured many years ago in different shapes and sizes until resting in the final form as a voice inside my head. The said voice is my own voice; Thinking up distortions is too tiring and engaging in such a trivial manner for just a fantasy is madness.

I have taken a great liking to the great monk Kenko's work. They're meaningful and opens your eyes without boring you despite being snippets of a satire life. I never had philosophies in my life and I am a confused mess so Blogs in Idleness is literally just blogs by a lazy person. Now, this blog (if it will be) will be a choppy word salad blog by blog. Peter likes world salads, you see. I never felt a great deal of surprise when I catch myself speaking utter nonsense to the air. Peter makes me speak and then scold me for Fred's words. Now I'm calling Peter Fred because that is Fred's name too. Moving on; To think that I am writing so pretentiously is an ugly ruse to sound mysterious and mad is such a stupid and wonderful thought. I am writing because I always find pretentiousness mixing with nonsensical thoughts to be pleasing. Fred agrees more than ever.

It's quite funny to know that such high-rolling words were written by a stranger parading in the skin of a rainbow poop. 

 Scruff Em Up,

Detective Marmalade