There are Life Diarists and then there are Life DIIIIIIIAARIIIISTS… and we at SELEDA are bristling with honor… ere Qoi, esti bedenb bristle inarg….

Brrrriiiiissstttle...

Ehem...

We at SELEDA, who have not rubbed shoulders (or any part of our extremities for that matter) with anything/anyone/any mnim that is literary or luminous, are honored to have this month's diarists grace us with their cyber-gurbitina.

As they undulate in the waves of literary symbolisms, scholarly fua-fuwatEys, sentient korebtas and all that cocktail party chitchat we are so grossly under-qualified to talk about, we realize that one day someone will tell these diarists what a mistake they made wasting their qmems on kutara people like us.

Whaddo we know about generational awakenings, word dissectations, anything remotely resembling f'ray neger, voluntary a'emro magulalating in order to understand a phrase or sentence... listen, it is hard enough for us to sit still long enough to read anything that don't have pretty pictures in it... Inante demo!

Gn, like the ashqabaCHs that we are, we are sanguine in pretending to be perched on an illusionary silTan koricha and letting out guttural "hmmmmmmm"s when we think someone has just uttered something profound and/or profane.

Until this ashaTr of ours is exposed and we are flogged in public, we shall keep up appearances and lay out the welcome mat for our December Diarists. They humble us like nothing else...

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