Everybody says I caught the disease from my father. My one and only poppy. Dad. Zdenek Zochling. Zed, for short. (I suppose in America he'd be called Zee.)
They don't say I inherited it from him. They just say I caught the disease.
The collecting disease, that is. (It's a disease because it makes other people sick with envy because they don't have all the stuff that I have. Though, as you may find out, I love to give things away, too. I mean, not just swap them, but give them away.)
Or is there always a price to pay?
Of course I've got a database of all my stuff, but don't think I'm going to show it to you. You've got to figure out for yourself what sort of things I collect. Although I'll give you a few clues. Like: I wrote a poem about what I do with the things I collect (so from that it's obvious what some of them are ), somewhere (I think) there's something about my shrine (where I worship, so to speak)...
Oh, by the way, don't think I'm kinky or anything. I just like things...lots of them...organised my own special way.
Especially words. I love to collect words. I've got zillions of lists like this:
But I didn't really catch the collecting disease from my father, Zed. (Though, perhaps, like him I developed the symptoms for the same reason...) The real reason I get so obsessed about collecting is that it takes my mind of things that otherwise I can't stop thinking about all the time.
Or girls, in other words.
It's in my fantasies (pantyfantasies, legfantasies, lipfantasies, swimwearfantasies, night-n-day-fantasies) and lots of thoughts and feelings that just, well, well up inside me and threaten to overtake me when I least expect it. Although I ought to expect it.
I even write poems about it.
And I certainly make collections, like my shrine which I have already talked about.
There are a few other things I should mention.
My descriptive video is an interactive computer game based on a future version of basketball played in space.