I'm definitely not as eloquent and timely as I seem. A lot of people comment often on my verbe and prose. I don't have a particular style at all, I just say what I need to say and the moment is usually crucial.
For example, I've just made a blog, because I'd like to organize a tale, one that is important enough for me to want a document of. If in the world, nothing of me ever gets known, I'd still like this one bit to be floating around in the world wide web.
I don't need a specific timeline or a special introduction. I say what I feel when I decide, this moment for example, when I'm writing the start of my great bloggy-woggy.
The people browsing this right now already know who I am, so I won't congestion the page with platitudes and descriptions. And you know who this story is about, this is a story about my puppy, my most beautiful puppy. I've had a lot of puppies as you well know, but none as gorgeous and maddening as this one.
I admit, some of them come close. One in particular, who I'll mention every now and then. Oh! And there's another one, that I haven't ... acquired yet, but am on my way, because we need to piss the world up and he's so fucked up and well... I'm who you turn to when you're fucked up.
I'm a doctor after all... and yes, a genius.
For those browsing for the first time: Cheerio! I'm Dr. Julian Weiss, I'm the prodigal orphan son of two people you don't need to know about. I'm a composer of classical music and soundtracks, I'm filthy rich and fucking gay. I've tried all bets possible to go down on a woman, the farthest I've gone is a long lingering french kiss with my tweetie (Tweetie = Bird = Caroline Richardson) one of my best friends. She's my pet really. So is the man in this tale, my greatest love and the rest of the male species.
Yes, I'm Julian Weiss, proud owner of the puppy foundation and mongrel picker-upper extraordinaire. I'm dashing, divine and addicted to pistachio macarons. But let's get to the good stuff.
This blog is mostly about my sex life, my love life and the love of my life; Rudyard Conrad Stocker: Mini-Buddha Owner, Hopeless Unemployed, Hapless Single Father, Devilish Whore-Child.
Order a glass of Petrus Wine and get comfortable. I'll introduce you to long nights.
