Monday, February 12, 2007

Sometimes I get stuck between wanting this space to be an out & out basketball blog, and then wanting it to be an out & out whatever blog and then an in & in comic book blog and then over & over a white spotted owl anthology blog and then I remember jesu christe, who gives half a log, and then I querize myself, oh yeah, I do, and then I wonder why in the name of marmaduke would I ever do something so inanely silly (care how this here espacio is categorized) and then my mind starts like doing the antithesis of melting and I cognizate, wait, bloggelagio is like big beeswax now, da biz, and people are making dinero on cognizating on all kinds of topics, but you have to be specific, you have to limit yourself to one area, to one thing, you have to concentrate Daniel san, and then I cognizate, like, but fuck it, who gives a crud, I’m not a good enuff writer (ok, yeah I am, or maybe I’m not, it’s not a matter of that, really) to actually make a living blapping blogs (posts, sigh) on the clippers, or on the nature of batman versus thanagarian warrior mentality, not that I couldn’t, but I just wouldn’t, never nunca, I mean, I could and would for like one or two days, and then suddenly I’d be on to something else, like the airspeed of an unladen swallow, and that’s good, that’s something that needs to be done, and no one taking in my viewage points is something that needs to be sacrificed for the good of the herd, the herd being all the various nodules of my brain that zap and zip and shoot ray beams of sunlight at one another just to keep the whole hemisphere alive and baking. Now that’s science, even though it’s not, and the importance lying therein is that it continues and it exists and me and this inebriated widower named spockstein in Saskatchewan read it every day and twice on Sunday, meaning it’s like peanut better for your soul, well, not your soul, your heart, ok, not really your heart, your brain, but not, actually your medulla oblongata, just don’t tell anyone. Ok.