Tuesday, June 10, 2003

99% of the time that I start to write these sentences that end up on this page I have absolutely no fricken idea what I’m going to write. Well maybe the first sentence. I think of a catchy little thing to kickstart it, like, oh, I don’t know, how most of the time I have no idea what I’m going to write, and then I go from there. Today is one of those times. Today is not part of the 1% (maybe less) when there is some kind of master plan, some kind of thematic portrayal and overlaying (?) idea behind the innocuous comments and observations, if you could even call them that.

I don’t really like to tell you too many things about my real life, because, well, I don’t like when blog life meets real life and causes, oh I don’t know, issues. Which is very rare, you see, but may be in part because I am usually so good about not concerning you with any semblance of reality. I find that it makes for a perfectly nice la-dee-dah to simply ramble on and on about nothing and usually when I read it over again it seems meaningful in some trivial and vastly important way.

Sometimes I’ll be listening to a certain piece of music and just throw in a lyric and go from there. Or I’ll read another blog entry and, like, answer it, in my own little style, you know, respond to what that author was trying to put out there with my own distorted and inconsequential view on the matter. Almost all the time I’ll end up diverting my own & your attention on to another matter altogether before our brief moment of time together is completed.

I am totally unashamed of the fact that this blog is completely meaningless. In fact, as mentioned, some of the times it seems that the less I say the more I think I like it. I’ve seen so many bloggers say “I write for me and no one else, so poo-poo (yes, poo-poo, I’m enough of a man to admit my fondness for the phrase) on you and your criticisms.” To this I emit a hearty poo-poo, the verbal kind not the latrinarian type, becuz, really cuz, if you were just writing for you, then I mean, scribble it on a wall, think it to yourself and then look at a bird in a tree and psychically tell him all about it, I mean if you don’t want to or care about broadcasting it, then why are you? I mean, there is a certain amount of action that must be taken to take that step, yes? Set up blog, type blog, hit publish, check that it came up, the whole 9 yards. So no, I don’t just blog for myself, I blog for you, all of you, even you over there in the corner playing jump rope and pining away for your Atari 2600, even you with the scuffed up keds and the iron maiden powerslave shirt, even you. in fact, maybe especially you. ok not especially you, but really, it’s for you too.

Like I said, sometimes the more I ramble and the less I think I said, the more it seems like I say and the deeper it gets. I would tell you that I’m gonna go back and read this now, but I don’t want to sell you swampland in florida, I want to take you back to the secret screening room and give you the extra large tub of popcorn and show you the super exclusive premier of the long awaited film known colloquially as the life of a friend of the owner of a dog named clipper, in 3-D, live from the island of Oahu. 7 years percolating.