So thanks to the therapist for telling me I should get back to doing things I loved in high school to ‘heal’ some misguided issues I’ve had for years. For instance, I almost went to university for a degree in ‘English and Writing’ because of how much I loved the power of the written word. They aint wrong. I still love writing even though I can’t spell worth shit. So ya I stopped writing. For a while. Decade and a half? but mostly because I have always been worried about my writing skills and or the creativeness (and lack there of). How could I hold my own to the satirical heavy weights of David Sedaris, George Saunders, or ‘insert another satirical short story writer name here’. The literal definition of out of my league. But the therapist was right about it a little. I have been deeply missing writing and story telling that comes along with the absolute absurdity that is this world around us. And with Jnco jeans now coming back in fashion I cant help but think that maybe a Blog is soon to follow. That reminds me, self note, reboot my account on Myspace.
but here it is. A place for me to hopefully get my writings down. free of grammatical worries; proper punctuation; and sentence structure, fuck all that, buy gold and bury water, this is the wild west mother fucker. And thankfully also in an area I know others wont try to see or read because said individual may need a few thousand for the therapy needed once vacationing at the sandy shores of my brain for even an hour.
so. Per request of my own continual development, here is the space for me to finally get some of my daily thoughts down on paper not structured to only a few hundred characters. Fuck twitter or x or whatever that cesspool of virgins mad at the world for some reason or another. a place for stories that have eluded me in the past, or have haunted me but also given me strength. a casual op-ed with no intention to upset or anger others with malice or forethought. some fun stories to re-read on the shitter or while waiting for that person to come back from the shitter. They grabbed their coat and purse saying they had a quick phone call, its okay, order another drink and remind yourself to not tell them how your brain works in the first 20 minutes of the date. Bad nic. bad
*anything but humble.
Casual Entropy 