Sometimes it is for the storyteller quite annoying that he can not tell a delicious, true story, because this could be traced even in anonymity of the main protagonists in these because they can just work properly only with the involvement of the narrators.
A true story is now times often funnier than an artificially tansponierte into fictitious, as one might make an effort as you want.
Since it is easy to forget, I've been thinking to create an archive of such anecdotes to tell them either but later can, or at least the literary scene with all its dialogue and slapstick not too loose.
Perhaps the problem lies simply in the fact that I am currently so much beschäftiget with this blog that therefore too little time remains for These kinds hastily to dress in comedies that would provide a sufficient degree of anonymisation in order that more than the original Embarrassing might know it.
Yes, also a poet should times may lament: though not for long.
And probably still better, then he whines that he can not tell just one or the other story, because if his lack of love and bliss, his other lumbago, his notoriously empty bag and cup.
Nevertheless, it remains the consolation that he was the world at any time own mischief (if not too coarse failed: too is often shame) may report that they are such lyre-rays of the ridiculous can partake.
But I'm looking forward to, but should I be so old that it will someday no longer depends on how much I embarrass me to be able verklopfen the most glaring obscenities out of my life.
Get ready for this case to some in about 30-40 years appears, miraculously (tragic) funny anecdotes taken.
- Advertisement -
Tags: poet
