Nineteen Candles

As I vaguely recall, at 19 all I could think of was my coming exams. In medical school, they make up regular surprise tests in intervals ( I know it shouldn't be a surprise then! ) as a sadistic method of torture. Supposedly to keep us on our toes - but possibly in a bid to brainwash us into the clones that I spoke of once upon a time. Sadly there seemed to be nothing else in life other than desperately cramming for exams over endless cups of coffee and endless reruns of the top 40 hits.

Sure every once in a while while skimming through endless text on lumps and bumps, I'd have wonderfully wet dreams of tying my ISO ( Insignificant Other ) up with my silk ties but since our study schedules seldom meshed, I didn't have all that much opportunity to put bondage theory to practice.

Certainly no thoughts of advocating liberty, equality and fraternity in my head.

I was a single-track mind kinda guy. Sex and books, that was all.

Actually I still am pretty focused on the above :P

Which is why it was refreshing to meet a young guy whose fiery idealism practically shone like a star. Really, we should all be that idealistic in our youth. Save petty cynicism for the cantankerous old folks like me.


I have a dream.
And to cap it all off, the boy Junior Guevara ( or J Guevara for short ) also speaks in expressive polysyllabic words. Finally, someone quite as loquacious as me.

At his age ( a healthy 19 in case you were wondering ), J's already a budding activist fighting for the rights of the dejected, the downtrodden and the disenfranchised too. The descamisados so to speak. Even surprisingly a defender for the rights of the walking steak dinner.

Whoops. I promised not to say that again. Fine, the defender of the pedestrian rump roast.

There I go again. Fine. Animal rights.

J : Like I would feel so guilty after hitting a cow. Like what of its feelings.
Paul : Feelings?
J : Imagine hitting the cow with your car.
Paul : Imagine how hurt your flimsy car feels! If you prick motorized vehicles, do they not bleed?
J : But the cow might have internal injuries.
Paul : True. So I'd invite all my friends for beef kurma and oxtail soup potluck the next day. Maybe some steaks if there's leftover.

Well I paraphrased. I really need a dictaphone.

Suffice to say, the earnest advocate of the injured bovine wasn't amused by my barbarity. Just to get a rise, I almost said I'd run over a few chickens for good measure ( nothing like fried chicken for a weekend potluck ) but I think J Guevara was already horrified enough by my unfeeling callousness. Probably busy dialing the RSPCA as we speak.

Sharp brains and youthful sexiness. Nice. Of course I would have propositioned him for a quickie tour of the backrooms - but since ( knowing my reputation ) the savvy J had brought an eagle-eyed chaperone along, I figured I'd better err on the side of caution. After all for a guy so well versed in constitutional law, he could be carrying a sexual harassment lawsuit under his tee!