I have been asked to begin blogging again. I guess I will.
I have a hard time keeping up with it things to write about and actually doing it; so many mundane things seem to happen that I can’t weed the good from the boring.
I also refuse to edit/rewrite or even reread this shit to make sure it’s of any quality.
And I also get distracted. To wit: between previous paragraph and this one, I managed to get lost online for a good 30 minutes…
What’s going on in my life?
What’s going on in my life?
What’s going on in my life?
I am so fucking busy. This newspaper is the most time/brainpower/money/conversation robbing thing on the planet. I wish people were as excited about it as I am.
So I don’t want to talk about that anymore… for now.
Women are still impossible to me.
Nothing is different.
I have no analyses.
I have been reading a lot of newspaper design and style guides. That doesn’t make for interesting blogging, either.
All that does is the truth, which I dance around like a Spanish flamenco.
I could talk about the bullshit that fills my head, constantly. But it’s all about women.
Oh, here we go. At the release party, I got insanely drunk and hit on a girl and was flatly denied (as usual) and then some faggot blondy assface starting hitting on her right in front of me. Wow. Come to find out, he works for a competing publication. So, I belittled him and his gay little magazine and ran off in a drunken stupor, yelling at “niggers” (like I said, drunk) and walking (literally) through horseshit.
That sums up most nights out for me.
It’s a wonder I am not suicidal. I really should be.
I think I don’t want to kill myself because I know I am the second coming of Christ and don’t get to die for another five years. I cannot find a woman because I already had my Mary Magdalene. I have to become a born-again virgin to be sacrificed to save humanity a second time.
May 25, 2012 is when it all begins, I believe. I know.
It sucks to know that you are Jesus.
I just wish I had super powers like Jesus I.
Maybe I will gain them, soon. I would like to heal everyone. That would totally get me laid, right?
And why does he bitch about women so much? Well, how long is it since you’ve been laid? Really? Well, it’s been a bit longer than that for me.
Of course I am preoccupied with that shit. Duh!
These dumb hoes I know keep telling me that I would obviously be a great boyfriend, or some such childish drivel. Whatever. They tell me that they will keep their ear out for a friend to introduce me to.
I met one of these girl’s friends last week. I practically begged for just a kind word to be said or a proper introduction. Never happened. Fucking cows.
I am cursed. Like Burroughs, Jr. From birth. And it will continue forever and ever, until I get this stupid monkey off of my back. I am actually astounded by how long it has been since I have been given any kind of attention by a woman. It is building up right now. This very second. I am getting really upset and a bit depressed.
I should stop writing now.
Now I can be accused of whining too much, great.
What did I tell you? I ramble and don’t stay to the point. Ever.
“There’s no fucking C.O. here.”
