Friday, May 22, 2009

My genre busting blog, yo.

Barring a miracle I failed in my goal and it's pretty bleak. I wouldn't even want to waste a miracle on this and so again pretty bleak. I don't like you anymore, blog. I opened up to you last night and I made myself vulnerable to you and you ... you ... just nothing. I think you don't have anyting smart to say in return? Hmmm, am I right, blog? Could be I'm wrong blog, but you're not going to tell me so I'm just going to assume you are emtpty headed and hearted. Barring a miracle you will remain inert and I will soon leave you completely. I have no choice.
I don't know if I ever liked you and maybe your remotemess made me think at times that I loved you but I doubt it. I don't even what to tell you my views on Love as I can't help but see your silence as a ....rebuke. Rebuke seems like a fake word there but I used it for a reason. On the radio a song had the word "intertia" in it, even in the title, I believe. That's the second time in recent memory that I remember really being put off finer language in Rock music. The other time was "Melancholy Diety," and I'm still annoyed by it as I write it so I can't blame that on low blood sugar etc.

Well, blog, look at me. I keep going despite no evidence that you going to give me the mercies I need. You remind me of God, Blog. And, that's not a compliment. You might think it is but as of 5/22/09 I'm no fan. Just, in the last two days, I saw too many skinny jeans on fat chicks and I saw too many "creations" that defied any idea that you are all about love and beauty. Yesterday, a woman was on some dance reality competition and she was born with 2 verterbae instead of the 7 verterbae, she said, we're all supposed to have. One of the judges tried to make it inspiring, but nooo sireee, I wasn't buying it. Just have god give her 5 more vertabrae and then we'll talk.

There's an art in talking to the abyss like this when so many seem to be scrambling to have just the right amounts of pic to vid to text ratios in their blogs. I think I'm being valiant as I type away here and then click on the orange publish post afterwards. I'm certainly going to feel a little icky or vulnerable afterwards,but I won't delete.

I have all my 7 vertebrae and still how I complain. I wish I could tell that dear dancing girl that verterbrae is not the answer. I doubt I'll ever meet her.

Hmmm, I would fail so bad at Twitter. Don't limit my characters, mister. Sure, Twitter would be great if maybe used by The alongonquin round table and bon mots were result of such a "device" But, I gave it a look yesterday and saw that someone named "JBFORFREE" ate a good pear and was promoting an EVENT and that he or she is 2 hours from home etc.

Today I saw that some spiteful beast with my sensibilies is trying to get old Oprah in hot water by suggesting that she is being mercernary with some Skype promotion on her miserable show. This poor writer has not and cannot spark outrage and downfall vis a vie Oprah Winfrey and she is very possibly the Lord. I get the feeling that 50 years down the road she will not die and then 60 years later she won't die and then 30 years more and she'll still be here. And, then the people that are alive then will at least know that she is the Lord. I'll be dead by then, see.

Ok, a very sweet looking broad is insisting i eat chicken soup. bye.
Post a Comment

Stef Willen's Disaster, Literally.

In the history of publishing, there is a fascinating history of memoirs that get pulled from publication, after an eagle eyed reader or rea...