This morning brought the news that one of my fellow horror gals passed away yesterday afternoon, after struggling with a failing liver. It's starting to sink in now, but it still doesn't feel quite real. Maybe it's because I never got to meet her face-to-face. We talked over email and Skype and IMDb's horror boards, where we met. That doesn't make her any less of a friend.
I'm angry. Angry that there wasn't enough time to meet 'in real life.' Angry that it didn't seem like she was given a fair shake. Angry that there's nothing to do about it now. It isn't fucking fair. It isn't fair to anyone who knew her, whether it was just online or in the flesh.
More than that, I'm sad. I'm sorry for her family and friends. This is a crushing blow to IMDb's horror community, to the horror chicks on FB, and to everyone who knew her, even if we couldn't meet her.
Rest in peace, in true peace, Sunny Jennifer. Love always.
Showing posts with label navel-gazing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label navel-gazing. Show all posts
12 January 2010
06 January 2010
Froooo-eee...POP*
Man. I've lost some weight lately. I won't list sizes because people will say "are you complaining? I'd love to lose weight like that/be that size again," when I'm not even complaining, I'm just saying. ANYWAY. I dropped two (or three, I don't know how it goes) sizes in around a year, maybe less. I don't bother weighing myself so I don't know when it started to happen. The point is, part of me kind of worries about it, because while I don't think I changed my diet much, there must be something different going on. I think it's because I'm cutting back on boredom eating. If I'm sitting down and watching TV or a movie, I feel like I should have something to eat. I could have had a huge meal beforehand, but it's that theater reflex kicking in, saying, "you want some popcorn," or "wouldn't ice cream sound great?"
TANGENT: I've also recently developed something of a lactose intolerance, which fucking sucks, because I love ice cream and milk. I suppose it's time to get those lactaid pills or whatever. In fact, discovering this makes me crave ice cream even more, which is totally fucking annoying. END TANGENT.
So I cut out the boredom eating. But still I wonder, is that all there is? Someone made a joke about a tapeworm and I think back to the time I ate that raw beef** and wonder some more. But still. I'm not complaining, especially because I'm back into pants that I was wearing in college. I feel healthy, and I like that I shed the pounds I never wanted to begin with, but still...how did it happen?
* title has no relevance to post, it's just a phrase that's been stuck in my head all damn day.
** That didn't happen. But still...tapeworm?
TANGENT: I've also recently developed something of a lactose intolerance, which fucking sucks, because I love ice cream and milk. I suppose it's time to get those lactaid pills or whatever. In fact, discovering this makes me crave ice cream even more, which is totally fucking annoying. END TANGENT.
So I cut out the boredom eating. But still I wonder, is that all there is? Someone made a joke about a tapeworm and I think back to the time I ate that raw beef** and wonder some more. But still. I'm not complaining, especially because I'm back into pants that I was wearing in college. I feel healthy, and I like that I shed the pounds I never wanted to begin with, but still...how did it happen?
* title has no relevance to post, it's just a phrase that's been stuck in my head all damn day.
** That didn't happen. But still...tapeworm?
25 August 2009
Wisdom from alt.slack
"I like friends who have enough respect for me to keep their goddamned distance."
That comes from Rev. Susie The Floozie's ex-husband.
I like that. A lot.
30 July 2009
I sleep a lot
The last two evenings, I've come home from work and slept for two and three hours. That wouldn't be so bad if I were home at five in the evening, but I get home around seven. Sleeping until ten, just to go to bed an hour later, doesn't seem quite healthy to me. The last time I did this, that I can remember, is when I was a teenager. I would come home from school at about three, sleep until seven, eat dinner, then go back to bed about an hour later. But teenagers need more sleep, because they are growing and changing.
Anyhow...it's just weird. If I plan on napping, I think I better set an alarm.
Anyhow...it's just weird. If I plan on napping, I think I better set an alarm.
24 July 2009
Inalienable
I long for a day when all we need to discuss are human rights. I know this is a pipe dream, but I wish we were in a world where we didn't have to specify between groups of people, but rather where we could say "you are a human, so you deserve to be happy, healthy and safe" and that would be all. The world is a rainbow and there is so much diversity to be recognized, but at the core we are all flesh and blood and we all deserve equal treatment. It shouldn't matter what shade your skin is, or what your body looks like, or who you sleep with or fall in love with, or what your bank account balance is, or who you are on the inside or the outside. We are all breathing, alive, human.
Life. Liberty. The pursuit of happiness. It can't be any clearer than that.
The long road in working towards this goal is still ahead of us. There are so many challenges to face. It isn't going to be easy to get to this place, and we probably won't see it in our lifetime. But that doesn't mean anyone should give up trying. The easiest way to start is to look at every person you encounter as just that: a person. Not as a black person or a white person but a person. Not as a gay person or a straight person. Not as rich or poor, heavy or thin, even male or female. That doesn't mean to forget or cast aside that part of the person, but to look at them primarily as a fellow human, no greater or lesser than you.
I know this all sounds terribly naive. It is. But it's something I think about every now and then. I like the idea of breaking down boxes and compartments and getting everyone on the same level. I hope this also isn't taken as a "let's remove everything special and unique about ourselves and become faceless drones" message, either. I'm just thinking of a place where people aren't judged on their looks or their status, but on their hearts and deeds.
*sigh*
Life. Liberty. The pursuit of happiness. It can't be any clearer than that.
The long road in working towards this goal is still ahead of us. There are so many challenges to face. It isn't going to be easy to get to this place, and we probably won't see it in our lifetime. But that doesn't mean anyone should give up trying. The easiest way to start is to look at every person you encounter as just that: a person. Not as a black person or a white person but a person. Not as a gay person or a straight person. Not as rich or poor, heavy or thin, even male or female. That doesn't mean to forget or cast aside that part of the person, but to look at them primarily as a fellow human, no greater or lesser than you.
I know this all sounds terribly naive. It is. But it's something I think about every now and then. I like the idea of breaking down boxes and compartments and getting everyone on the same level. I hope this also isn't taken as a "let's remove everything special and unique about ourselves and become faceless drones" message, either. I'm just thinking of a place where people aren't judged on their looks or their status, but on their hearts and deeds.
*sigh*
23 July 2009
On the topic of virginity
Recently, I posted a quiz result on Facebook that was based on the old slumber party game of Truth or Dare. The instructions were to either choose 'truth' or 'dare,' and then post the result on your profile. In your result are ten questions with the instruction to answer one of them truthfully in the post. The questions were your standard fare: do you have a crush on anyone, are you a bad kisser, have you ever farted in class, and so on. The last question was a fill-in-the-blank style where you could reveal any one truth about yourself that hadn't already been asked. I mistakenly answered the nine questions as truthfully as I could -- the bad kisser one threw me, because I've only kissed two people and neither of them said I was bad to my face, so I didn't know -- and on the tenth question I replied:
"...*deep breath*...I'm a virgin..."
It felt interesting to say it in a widespread public forum, and the responses I got were varied, from general surprise to "Dibs!" (which honestly cracked me up, since it was to be expected at some point, and the friend who said it is a sweet guy who means no harm) to "I'm a virgin, too." But the response that got me thinking the most was that virginity is bullshit. I agree to some extent. For myself, it doesn't matter anymore, although I sometimes wonder if I hold out much longer that the idea of what sex is in my mind will be far better than the actual act itself. I hope that made sense.
Anyhow, for many people, the idea that virginity is bullshit does not hold true. It is still a relatively important concept, particularly to those who believe that sex should be saved for marriage. I certainly cannot discount that as invalid, because it is a truth for someone else. I don't necessarily believe in it, clearly, but I also can't claim that it's bullshit. The myth of virginity or the concept of it is going to be different for every person. However, for my friend who says that virginity is bullshit, that is a truth for her, and I also can't discount that.
The whole point for me is this: I am a virgin. Is this a big deal? Not particularly. But it is a part of my life in some respect so it can't necessarily be thrown aside as just bullshit. It invokes a lot of questions about how I treat relationships and intimacy. The floor is now open for discussion.
"...*deep breath*...I'm a virgin..."
It felt interesting to say it in a widespread public forum, and the responses I got were varied, from general surprise to "Dibs!" (which honestly cracked me up, since it was to be expected at some point, and the friend who said it is a sweet guy who means no harm) to "I'm a virgin, too." But the response that got me thinking the most was that virginity is bullshit. I agree to some extent. For myself, it doesn't matter anymore, although I sometimes wonder if I hold out much longer that the idea of what sex is in my mind will be far better than the actual act itself. I hope that made sense.
Anyhow, for many people, the idea that virginity is bullshit does not hold true. It is still a relatively important concept, particularly to those who believe that sex should be saved for marriage. I certainly cannot discount that as invalid, because it is a truth for someone else. I don't necessarily believe in it, clearly, but I also can't claim that it's bullshit. The myth of virginity or the concept of it is going to be different for every person. However, for my friend who says that virginity is bullshit, that is a truth for her, and I also can't discount that.
The whole point for me is this: I am a virgin. Is this a big deal? Not particularly. But it is a part of my life in some respect so it can't necessarily be thrown aside as just bullshit. It invokes a lot of questions about how I treat relationships and intimacy. The floor is now open for discussion.
22 July 2009
The Memory Issue
Lately, I've been having noticable memory problems. For instance, today it seems that there was a specific reason I wanted to have this Saturday off, but for the life of me, I cannot remember why. I know it was something not two days ago I could remember. If you ask me what I wore on a certain day last week, I'd be unlikely to be able to tell you with any degree of accuracy. I wish I had more examples, but for the life of me, I can't even remember them. It's starting to weird me out.
Oh, I remember now...I have a dentist appointment Saturday morning at 8am. I wish I hadn't remembered that.
Oh, I remember now...I have a dentist appointment Saturday morning at 8am. I wish I hadn't remembered that.
21 July 2009
From 'The Gonzo Zombie's Film Journal': Going to the theater will never die for me
I don't think people get it anymore. I'm not saying that buying DVDs are bad, or that renting a movie is silly or any such thing. I'm just saying that people don't appreciate actually leaving the house to go to the movies anymore. Granted, it's quite expensive to see a movie in the theatre these days (somewhere around $10, without popcorn), but aren't you paying for the experience as well?
There are some movie memories that will never die: there used to be a drive-in theatre about ten miles from where I lived as a child. It's hard to accurately describe the feeling of going there to see a double-feature--there was something thrilling and scary and overwhelming about it. Something that would make my heart jump into my throat and something that felt like home as well. When you got to the drive-in and paid the $4 per person and pulled into just the right spot and set up your blanket and chairs and snacks, you just felt the summer weather go right through your body as you listened to The Temptations sing "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch)" on the pole speakers and you got a chill. When it got dark enough, you'd put on the car radio to the right station and see a few previews and some ads for local businesses (much like the Acuna Boys ad in the middle of Grindhouse) and then you'd watch the first feature, usually something family-friendly. Between films, you'd go to the garish neon-lit snack bar/bathroom/projection building and beg your mom for a candy bar or some stale popcorn in those red-and-white boxes. You could see the projector in the front, grinding away, showing everyone the commercial for the Marathon car wash that was "just down the street!" and you knew that it was. As you left the snack bar, you'd always try to put your hand in front of that smoky beam of light so that everyone at the drive-in could see your tiny hand amplified on the big screen. On the way back to the car, you stopped to talk to friends and neighbors, and maybe you ran up to the old rusty swingset to get in a few good rounds before the show started back up again. Once the second feature got started, you moved into the car because it got colder and you wanted to maybe doze a little, but before you knew it, the movie was over and the car was moving, getting in line to get out, and you strained so hard to watch the credits as the big screen became so obtuse you couldn't see it anymore. You begged to keep the radio station on as long as possible so you could hear next week's features, and when the car turned away from the drive-in, you craned your neck to keep watching the screen, watching it to see just one more minute, one more second of anything on that screen. Your heart would fall back into its original position once you were out of its sight and you would drift into sleep and dreams in the car going home again.
There is absolutely nothing like that experience. I try to chase that feeling whenever I can, going to the theatre to see a movie as often as I can afford it. Sometimes I'll forget what it's like, just briefly, to see a movie on a screen so big, but then I sit in that tiny dark room and it comes back to me like a head rush and I want to cry a little. I feel a tiny thrill and my heart leaps when the movie starts and I strain to hear the projector and smell the dust in the air and taste the stale popcorn and sense that feeling of childhood suckerpunch me in the gut.
You cannot know what it is like unless you have been there, but I hope that you can catch a taste of it sometime.
There are some movie memories that will never die: there used to be a drive-in theatre about ten miles from where I lived as a child. It's hard to accurately describe the feeling of going there to see a double-feature--there was something thrilling and scary and overwhelming about it. Something that would make my heart jump into my throat and something that felt like home as well. When you got to the drive-in and paid the $4 per person and pulled into just the right spot and set up your blanket and chairs and snacks, you just felt the summer weather go right through your body as you listened to The Temptations sing "I Can't Help Myself (Sugar Pie Honey Bunch)" on the pole speakers and you got a chill. When it got dark enough, you'd put on the car radio to the right station and see a few previews and some ads for local businesses (much like the Acuna Boys ad in the middle of Grindhouse) and then you'd watch the first feature, usually something family-friendly. Between films, you'd go to the garish neon-lit snack bar/bathroom/projection building and beg your mom for a candy bar or some stale popcorn in those red-and-white boxes. You could see the projector in the front, grinding away, showing everyone the commercial for the Marathon car wash that was "just down the street!" and you knew that it was. As you left the snack bar, you'd always try to put your hand in front of that smoky beam of light so that everyone at the drive-in could see your tiny hand amplified on the big screen. On the way back to the car, you stopped to talk to friends and neighbors, and maybe you ran up to the old rusty swingset to get in a few good rounds before the show started back up again. Once the second feature got started, you moved into the car because it got colder and you wanted to maybe doze a little, but before you knew it, the movie was over and the car was moving, getting in line to get out, and you strained so hard to watch the credits as the big screen became so obtuse you couldn't see it anymore. You begged to keep the radio station on as long as possible so you could hear next week's features, and when the car turned away from the drive-in, you craned your neck to keep watching the screen, watching it to see just one more minute, one more second of anything on that screen. Your heart would fall back into its original position once you were out of its sight and you would drift into sleep and dreams in the car going home again.
There is absolutely nothing like that experience. I try to chase that feeling whenever I can, going to the theatre to see a movie as often as I can afford it. Sometimes I'll forget what it's like, just briefly, to see a movie on a screen so big, but then I sit in that tiny dark room and it comes back to me like a head rush and I want to cry a little. I feel a tiny thrill and my heart leaps when the movie starts and I strain to hear the projector and smell the dust in the air and taste the stale popcorn and sense that feeling of childhood suckerpunch me in the gut.
You cannot know what it is like unless you have been there, but I hope that you can catch a taste of it sometime.
From 'Something Poetic and Random': fly away home, little one
there is a time to just go home. the time is now. but then you have to come back, and i don't smoke, remember? oh my lord, i want to sleep so badly that it hurts.
rivers cuomo went to harvard. jesus christ.
in a fishbowl.
rivers cuomo went to harvard. jesus christ.
in a fishbowl.
From 'Something Poetic and Random': elusive sleep and sweater cats
(Note: I really like this one for some reason.)
it takes me so long to get to sleep. there is no tossing and turning or fidgeting. it is laying still and wishing for total darkness and silence. it dances over my head like the skull on the ceiling fan. there will be little rest for me until next year. i wonder if i can hold out that long. time moves very slowly when i want something to happen.
it is 11:47 at night and i need to be in bed. but i am not in bed. i cannot be in bed. i cannot even turn on the tv. i cannot rest. i am tired and wide awake. i think maybe i have insomnia. sometimes i will not sleep until three in the morning. i have to pee because someone is using the shower.
the sweater cats are making their annual appearance again. they will be in your town soon. they have invaded the apartment. argyle is the new black. the cats are angry about it and they hiss and growl and whine. they don't want it to be that time of year.
it takes me so long to get to sleep. there is no tossing and turning or fidgeting. it is laying still and wishing for total darkness and silence. it dances over my head like the skull on the ceiling fan. there will be little rest for me until next year. i wonder if i can hold out that long. time moves very slowly when i want something to happen.
it is 11:47 at night and i need to be in bed. but i am not in bed. i cannot be in bed. i cannot even turn on the tv. i cannot rest. i am tired and wide awake. i think maybe i have insomnia. sometimes i will not sleep until three in the morning. i have to pee because someone is using the shower.
the sweater cats are making their annual appearance again. they will be in your town soon. they have invaded the apartment. argyle is the new black. the cats are angry about it and they hiss and growl and whine. they don't want it to be that time of year.
From 'Something Poetic and Random': a bit of a rattlesnake
i think it feels really good to smoke. at least, it feels so good in my dreams. i've had dreams of smoking for the last two or maybe three years. the first of these dreams involved me searching and searching for cigarettes. i would have this dream where i was driving to the gas stations with the intent to buy, but then i would wake up before completing the sale. sometimes i would be carded and i realize i forgot my license. sometimes i wouldn't have enough money.
the next dreams would be me obtaining said cigarettes, and even opening the pack and smelling the tobacco, but something would keep me from actually lighting and smoking them. sometimes it would be that the lighter was broken, but sometimes it would be because the gas station was robbed while i was there and i had to hide behind a rack of chips. end of dream.
the more recent set of dreams finds me enjoying the cigarettes, finally. i take great pleasure from lighting and inhaling, sucking in this wonderful feeling of love and warm and peace. sometimes these dreams are so powerful that my first thought on waking up is that i need to go buy a pack of smokes so i can be as happy as i am in my dream. there have been times that i will go get gasoline for my car and have to force myself to pay at the pump because i know if i go inside i will buy cigarettes.
i have never smoked in my life. i don't plan on starting to smoke. but this urge is coiled so tightly inside me like a spring that sometimes i am so afraid that i will become a smoker and die like my grandfather.
the next dreams would be me obtaining said cigarettes, and even opening the pack and smelling the tobacco, but something would keep me from actually lighting and smoking them. sometimes it would be that the lighter was broken, but sometimes it would be because the gas station was robbed while i was there and i had to hide behind a rack of chips. end of dream.
the more recent set of dreams finds me enjoying the cigarettes, finally. i take great pleasure from lighting and inhaling, sucking in this wonderful feeling of love and warm and peace. sometimes these dreams are so powerful that my first thought on waking up is that i need to go buy a pack of smokes so i can be as happy as i am in my dream. there have been times that i will go get gasoline for my car and have to force myself to pay at the pump because i know if i go inside i will buy cigarettes.
i have never smoked in my life. i don't plan on starting to smoke. but this urge is coiled so tightly inside me like a spring that sometimes i am so afraid that i will become a smoker and die like my grandfather.
From 'Something Poetic and Random': some days i get thoughts that run on
they go for miles on end and sometimes my head will ache because i can't stop them enough to grab them and touch them and it makes me want to cry or sleep.
i think of films i've seen and books i've read and christmas and music and even the carpet sometimes. why isn't it cleaner? why am i lazy about the whole vacuum situation? does that mean i am defective in some miniscule way?
ugh. i want to maybe let my eyes fall out of my skull, because that is how it feels to have these thoughts that run on forever. i think my back is hurting too. maybe it is tired. maybe i should lie down and let everything slip away into some black void-a-ma-jig. but then i realize that my hair would be messed up and for some reason this will keep me awake until midnight. then i can't take it anymore and my eyes force me to sleep and i try to fight it and be angry about it but i just can't can't can't stay awake.
i think i need to just not go anywhere or do anything, but i always have places to go and things to do. it sounds lame to say no.
i think of films i've seen and books i've read and christmas and music and even the carpet sometimes. why isn't it cleaner? why am i lazy about the whole vacuum situation? does that mean i am defective in some miniscule way?
ugh. i want to maybe let my eyes fall out of my skull, because that is how it feels to have these thoughts that run on forever. i think my back is hurting too. maybe it is tired. maybe i should lie down and let everything slip away into some black void-a-ma-jig. but then i realize that my hair would be messed up and for some reason this will keep me awake until midnight. then i can't take it anymore and my eyes force me to sleep and i try to fight it and be angry about it but i just can't can't can't stay awake.
i think i need to just not go anywhere or do anything, but i always have places to go and things to do. it sounds lame to say no.
Such a slacker I am.
Hi. Remember me? It's been a terribly long time since I've posted anything here. I decided to change the name. The url is still the same, but I was: a) tired of Bitch Snatch (it's still amusing, don't get me wrong), and b) I remembered that a former college professor once called me a demented cheerleader and it cracked me up.
It's quite true, you know. I am a demented cheerleader. I say it with a smile, even when "it" is something terribly morbid or disturbing. I think it gives me a little something extra, no?
Anyhow, I'll be importing some posts from the other blogs I have here, just so I can eventually delete the multiple blogs. They're sitting dormant anyhow.
It's quite true, you know. I am a demented cheerleader. I say it with a smile, even when "it" is something terribly morbid or disturbing. I think it gives me a little something extra, no?
Anyhow, I'll be importing some posts from the other blogs I have here, just so I can eventually delete the multiple blogs. They're sitting dormant anyhow.
23 September 2008
Little coincidences
Strange. I just called to check the balance on a prepaid gift card I received, and I have $31.01 left on the card.
I just entered a debit card purchase into my checkbook register.
I have $31.01 in my checking account.
Strange to know that all the money I have right now is $62.02.
I just entered a debit card purchase into my checkbook register.
I have $31.01 in my checking account.
Strange to know that all the money I have right now is $62.02.
28 August 2008
Is it so sad?
Is it so sad for me to eat dinner in a restaurant alone? Apparently, people at restaurants think it is.
This is not the first time I've been given pity looks when I am eating alone. Tonight, it was Cracker Barrel, a fitting name, since I only ever see white people eat there. That's not to say that any other race doesn't eat there, it's just that I never see 'em. Anyhow, this is about me. Eating alone. Getting pity looks from the hostess when she asks "How many?" Am I the only person who ever eats alone? I guess so.
It happened once before at a Denny's. When I told the hostess, "One, please," she even said "Really?" before catching herself in her incredulousness. I wanted to be rude, but I couldn't, because I was absofuckingloutely gobsmacked. I gave the waitress a good tip, though, because she was friendly and didn't treat me like some poor soul whose date stood her up or something.
Another time this happened, I was at the theater to see Grindhouse. This story is actually funnier than the other two. I was waiting in my seat for the show to start, and this lady with her two dude-pals sat next to me. Right away, she turned to me and asked me if I was alone. I said that I was. She said, "Oh, honey, that's so sad! All alone at the theater, no man to take you out." I replied that, in fact, all of my friends were either out of town or working and there was just no one to go to the movies with. She nodded and gave me a quiet "mmm-hmm" in understanding. Had she said only that to me for the whole night, I would have lumped it in with the sad stories. However, during the big reveal of a certain actor in Grindhouse, she turned to me, nudged my arm and said in a loud whisper "Bruce Willis, MMM-HMM!" That made my night, as well as the fact that she wished me a good night when the movie was over.
Why can't everyone be more like Bruce Willis Lady? Just. . .let me be alone at the theater or at the restaurant, enjoying myself with my favorite person.
This is not the first time I've been given pity looks when I am eating alone. Tonight, it was Cracker Barrel, a fitting name, since I only ever see white people eat there. That's not to say that any other race doesn't eat there, it's just that I never see 'em. Anyhow, this is about me. Eating alone. Getting pity looks from the hostess when she asks "How many?" Am I the only person who ever eats alone? I guess so.
It happened once before at a Denny's. When I told the hostess, "One, please," she even said "Really?" before catching herself in her incredulousness. I wanted to be rude, but I couldn't, because I was absofuckingloutely gobsmacked. I gave the waitress a good tip, though, because she was friendly and didn't treat me like some poor soul whose date stood her up or something.
Another time this happened, I was at the theater to see Grindhouse. This story is actually funnier than the other two. I was waiting in my seat for the show to start, and this lady with her two dude-pals sat next to me. Right away, she turned to me and asked me if I was alone. I said that I was. She said, "Oh, honey, that's so sad! All alone at the theater, no man to take you out." I replied that, in fact, all of my friends were either out of town or working and there was just no one to go to the movies with. She nodded and gave me a quiet "mmm-hmm" in understanding. Had she said only that to me for the whole night, I would have lumped it in with the sad stories. However, during the big reveal of a certain actor in Grindhouse, she turned to me, nudged my arm and said in a loud whisper "Bruce Willis, MMM-HMM!" That made my night, as well as the fact that she wished me a good night when the movie was over.
Why can't everyone be more like Bruce Willis Lady? Just. . .let me be alone at the theater or at the restaurant, enjoying myself with my favorite person.
07 August 2008
Guys, I have a lot of blogs. It's time to bring them all home.
I'm getting frustrated with blogs. In fact, the word itself makes me cringe a little. I think it's because everyone has one, and no one respects them. What's to respect? It's just faceless people on the Internet gibbering about shit that isn't important to anyone but them and maybe a handful of other people. It's like an inside joke--why talk about it in public when no one else is gonna understand it?
That said, here's another blog. I don't have a plan for it, unless "taking the world by storm" is a plan. That's more of a "thing that just happens." You can't account for three things: taste, weather and things that just happen. Wait. I guess I lied. My plan for this blog is to eliminate other blogs I've had in the past and incorporate them all into one place.
I knew there was a plan.
That said, here's another blog. I don't have a plan for it, unless "taking the world by storm" is a plan. That's more of a "thing that just happens." You can't account for three things: taste, weather and things that just happen. Wait. I guess I lied. My plan for this blog is to eliminate other blogs I've had in the past and incorporate them all into one place.
I knew there was a plan.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
