Cos writes (whatever vol. this is now): Like an intellectual

Merriest of greetings and salutations to the sundry comrades of mine,

So as not to squander my meager moment here, I shall hastily inform the entirety of you pertaining to my life experiences since my last maundering.

The academy wherein I live and study, by means of programs from organizations guided by pupils, graciously provided for me to utilize my adroitness with a guitar, piano, and the most recent challenge, a mandolin.

I gleefully performed on the second of February according to our current twelve month calender, a date regarded by a myriad of the populace as "Groundhog Day." Solicitously considering the prominence of this supposed holiday, I circumspectly crafted a ditty on the aforementioned mandolin entitled "Ignoring My Shadow." The gloaming of sonic production coupled with aesthetic delectation pleasantly possesses my recollection of my latest happenings.

The elder of my two beloved female siblings has, as of last Monday, been alive (that is to say, been alive from the time of uteral evacuation and not from the time of zygote production) for a score minus two, currently my age as well.

My beloved mother, as of this very day (the eighteenth of February) has reached yet one more year further into her existence, a precise number of which shall remain surrepticius.

My beloved father will discover this same new age of existence ten days beyond my mother's. In summary, the days of celebration of birth and life are manifold in this contemporary season.

Other tidings I could possibly mention, but a vague awareness of an already protracted and reasonably boring account has penetrated these considerations of mine, so I shall desist from such notions.