It looks like I might have to work overtime on this blog, seeing as how I forgot to post at least something for a December post. From the bottom of my proverbial heart, I'm sorta sorry.
What is it about a new year that gets to me so? I'll tell you. It's because it's like this: You have a slate. Said slate gets covered in oil, grease, muck, shit, piss, possibly a dash of vinegar, woodchips, cornchips, aardvark dropping, blood, ash, and the occasional spittle of vomitous disgustingus. And then the new year begins and that slate of yours is cleaned off nice and tidy. It's new. It's fresh. Ahhhhhh, so fresh.
And then before you know it, something happens and you find some oil stains on your nice, clean, and fresh slate. Not so bad. Easily dealt with. Shit happens. Ah, but not yet! Because then, from out of left fucking field, spatters of grease and muck appear and you stand there going, "Motherfucker, this ain't right!". But you take a breath. A deep one. Still not terrible but the doubts, oh they are growing aren't they? Indeed. Still, though. Could be worse. And so you carry on with your slate which is not so clean anymore but still very usable and filled with pride and hope and good, good things. As you are just about to exhale in relief, HOLY FUCK! BOOM!
The onset of shit happening happens. Mixed with unbiased droplets of piss. You're becoming pretty distraught but wait, there's more! Because as you dive headlong past these obstacles that you are sure to be free of in mere moments, you find yourself WHAM! The smell of vinegar assaults you and you look at your slate with sad eyes. Balls, you might say. And consequently, through brief moments of relief and "Whew, glad that's over!", once again, you find that the once-clean slate has been peppered with woodchips, cornchips, aardvark droppings(wtf were you doing to warrant aardvark droppings?), blood, ash, and the occasional spittle of the inevitable vomitous disgustingus.
At this point, it doesn't matter what's on that slate of yours. Why? Because New Year's Eve is just days away and it's time for a new slate!
Rinse. Repeat. Until you're dead.
I know what you may be thinking: That's fucking godawful and depressing! AND IT IS. The saving grace throughout all of it is actually somewhat liberating if you choose to think of it in the manner I'm about to present......
Life is ups and downs. Twists and turns and any other horrible cliche' to signify life's turbulent courses. And all that stuff that is fucking up your clean slate? That's your life. That's your experiences. Because nothing in this world is pristine because if it were?
What a boring fucking time we'd all have, yes?
So, chin up, folks. Learn from the dirt that comes across our paths, it really is the spice of life.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Nanowrimo. . .
I'm compelled. Drawn. Whisked away by these delusions. Or are they memories? Yeah, they're probably a mix of both really.
This is a very, very rare day for me. For some reason or another, the excited surge of writing is filling me up. I haven't quite had this feeling in years. Literally, years. But looking upon Facebook and seeing some of my friends participate in the yearly National Novel Writing Month or, Nanowrimo, has sent me into a flurry of "well, shit!".
And so I created an account on the website. I picked a username and password. I'm three days behind but from here on out, the goal is 50,000 words by November 30th, 11:59pm. I will not make it. I don't care if I do but what is getting me all whipper-snappy and bothered is that I feel my "spark" again.
IT HAS BEEN SO LONG.
It's....scary and awesome. However, I have absolutely no fucking clue what to write. In fact, I'm pretty sure I should be writing something right now instead of this oft-neglected piece of fungus I call my blog.
I'd like to just point out that I'm using this blog post for two reasons:
I'm not telling you the first reason.
The second reason? BRAINSTORM.
I have no FUCKING clue where to begin any type of story of any kind at the moment. And so as I sit here typing away at this infernal bastard, I grasp at the notion that an the ember's of a huge story-fire will catch on me and set me completely ablaze.
That is my hope, at least. Hmmm. Fire. Catching. Completely.
Ah, hell. I got nothing.
So, this is my November post. Cheers fuckers and good luck to anyone else out there attempting a go at Nanowrimo!
This is a very, very rare day for me. For some reason or another, the excited surge of writing is filling me up. I haven't quite had this feeling in years. Literally, years. But looking upon Facebook and seeing some of my friends participate in the yearly National Novel Writing Month or, Nanowrimo, has sent me into a flurry of "well, shit!".
And so I created an account on the website. I picked a username and password. I'm three days behind but from here on out, the goal is 50,000 words by November 30th, 11:59pm. I will not make it. I don't care if I do but what is getting me all whipper-snappy and bothered is that I feel my "spark" again.
IT HAS BEEN SO LONG.
It's....scary and awesome. However, I have absolutely no fucking clue what to write. In fact, I'm pretty sure I should be writing something right now instead of this oft-neglected piece of fungus I call my blog.
I'd like to just point out that I'm using this blog post for two reasons:
I'm not telling you the first reason.
The second reason? BRAINSTORM.
I have no FUCKING clue where to begin any type of story of any kind at the moment. And so as I sit here typing away at this infernal bastard, I grasp at the notion that an the ember's of a huge story-fire will catch on me and set me completely ablaze.
That is my hope, at least. Hmmm. Fire. Catching. Completely.
Ah, hell. I got nothing.
So, this is my November post. Cheers fuckers and good luck to anyone else out there attempting a go at Nanowrimo!
Friday, October 29, 2010
Well?
A little late. Happy October.
In other news. . .
Guess I'm going solo on this whole destructive sequence called "life". This is probably the way it was always going to be anyway, not that I didn't brainwash myself into thinking otherwise because I did.
Naturally, I never think in the right way when this sort of thing is concerned.
It kind of really hurts, though. Mostly for the shock. Mostly for the inevitable-ness. Yeah. Mostly the latter.
Just call me Snowman.
In other news. . .
Guess I'm going solo on this whole destructive sequence called "life". This is probably the way it was always going to be anyway, not that I didn't brainwash myself into thinking otherwise because I did.
Naturally, I never think in the right way when this sort of thing is concerned.
It kind of really hurts, though. Mostly for the shock. Mostly for the inevitable-ness. Yeah. Mostly the latter.
Just call me Snowman.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
Brog prost. # 4569
Man-rape chair is out of control. +
Steven Seagal is really ugly.
0001010101111000110000100110010111
Why would you do that!?!?!?
Steven Seagal is really ugly.
0001010101111000110000100110010111
Why would you do that!?!?!?
Sunday, September 12, 2010
"How To Lose Your Mind In A Matter Of Moments" or "Cabbage Ain't Yer Aphrodisiac Of Choice"
Before I get to the matter at hand....
Happy September Blog Post!
And now, for the matter at hand.
I enjoy pizza. It's great stuff.
That is all.
Happy September Blog Post!
And now, for the matter at hand.
I enjoy pizza. It's great stuff.
That is all.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
No Where To Run...
Hookay. No cheap three-sentenced update today, I guess. I've been drinking so naturally the need to express my mind's junkyard of intense and irrelevant bullshit is due.
Politics. Oi. I said it. Poly - meaning many, Ticks - meaning blood sucking things
Anywhoozits. My point herein is this: I've been running madly away from most if not all political dealings for the past six years. SIX. YEARS. And it always finds me. It sucks me back in. My sad indifference of most things gets tossed to the floor as my rage and ultimate idealistic self takes hold once more. And I hate it.
I hate politics because I hate people. You cannot enforce any referendum or vote or law without a say of the people or their proper representative (ideally). Since we obviously don't know what's best for us, we tend to stray from what might lead to a progressive and intellectual society.
We end up with Justin Beiber and Miley Cyrus. Reality TV. Left or Right wingers debating their own agendas. The actual use of short hand writing (LOL or OMG)via text messages and the universal Attention Deficit Disorder bullshit of the goddamned curse/blessing of the internet.
That's a fraction of what is wrong. Yes. WRONG. People in the US of A are completely and utterly BATSHIT CRAZY AND FUCKED. Not all of us. Just enough of us to make it hurt as they add (more) salt to the already bleeding injuries we've sustained as a people.
It really hurts to even begin to talk about these things. Seriously. What I see and what I know and what I am confident is the answer to it all. . . is more frustrating than a bad case of blue balls before a track meet.
And some asshole just called me and destroyed my rant-momentum. Ah, hell. I need another drink anyways. Especially after thinking about the state of the country and how 2012 SHOULD happen the way it was meant to.
Perhaps that's just the optimist in me talking.
Politics. Oi. I said it. Poly - meaning many, Ticks - meaning blood sucking things
Anywhoozits. My point herein is this: I've been running madly away from most if not all political dealings for the past six years. SIX. YEARS. And it always finds me. It sucks me back in. My sad indifference of most things gets tossed to the floor as my rage and ultimate idealistic self takes hold once more. And I hate it.
I hate politics because I hate people. You cannot enforce any referendum or vote or law without a say of the people or their proper representative (ideally). Since we obviously don't know what's best for us, we tend to stray from what might lead to a progressive and intellectual society.
We end up with Justin Beiber and Miley Cyrus. Reality TV. Left or Right wingers debating their own agendas. The actual use of short hand writing (LOL or OMG)via text messages and the universal Attention Deficit Disorder bullshit of the goddamned curse/blessing of the internet.
That's a fraction of what is wrong. Yes. WRONG. People in the US of A are completely and utterly BATSHIT CRAZY AND FUCKED. Not all of us. Just enough of us to make it hurt as they add (more) salt to the already bleeding injuries we've sustained as a people.
It really hurts to even begin to talk about these things. Seriously. What I see and what I know and what I am confident is the answer to it all. . . is more frustrating than a bad case of blue balls before a track meet.
And some asshole just called me and destroyed my rant-momentum. Ah, hell. I need another drink anyways. Especially after thinking about the state of the country and how 2012 SHOULD happen the way it was meant to.
Perhaps that's just the optimist in me talking.
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