This is my third blog entry, and I have leaked out all my creative juices. Its gross. They are every where. Creative juices all over the place and not where they belong. Anyway, I have no idea what to write about. Does it matter though?
Does there have to be a point? An epiphany at the end. A purpose?
Whatever I say here, as long as it keeps your attention, does not have to mean a damn thing. It could be rubbish. Contain filthy words. It could contain replacement words for filthy words, so you can think of the actual filthy word yet not be offended.
Anyway, just keep reading. Keep going. Keep wondering. Where the….. hell…… is he taking us? (I figured hell is a nice compromise.)
Now, if you are an idiot, you have finally realized that there is not much here. Some of you have decided that taking the few minutes to read this was not worth it. Some may even get upset. You will be angered at the time wasted and may even become spiteful. Decide to despise me. (What a decision that has to be! Life must be so easy if you are in a position to “decide to despise.”)
However, there are other people out there. Perhaps. People who look at these words with wonder. Not just my words but all words. On paper. In our minds. From our mouths. Through our hearts. We are all connected with our words. There is beauty in how we all put them together in our own peculiar ways.
These people might come across this pointless grouping of English language symbols and walk away from it in awe of themselves. In awe that they were able to look and understand something from another human being, even if there was nothing to be understood.
They might also walk away in awe of themselves because they are trying to fathom why they read this whole piece. And if they managed to find something in all this nothing, it probably wasn’t what they were looking for.
The other day I was holding a significant amount of money. It was not my money. I was thouroughly examining it. I was aware that it was a lot. I could just feel the greed and the thoughts that were seeping throughout my body and mind. If I had this money, I could get this, or that. I started to feel that seduction that currency has on the soul, and I began to get scared of it.
Money can be used for anything. Anything. Food, clothes, and shelter. Drugs, sex, and even life. If you have it and you want it, you can have it. That is the equation nowadays: (Have money) + (Want Something)=(Its Yours).
I decided that money is a terrible thing, but I still want it. I like terrible things. They make me feel better. I want money. But I don’t. Yet I do. To have something that can fix all your problems or give you the worst problems of your life is almost mystical. Once you wield that money sword, it can be easy to chop your own head off (and of course with the right price somebody else’s).
SIDE NOTE:That is a crazy thought that there are people who would murder for a price. You ever wonder how much somebody would pay to have you killed? What’s my price? Oh the curiosity!
Anyway, we all look at money differently, and yet the same. For instance, 200 dollars for one person might be chump change, maybe lunch, or blown on drugs. To another person, 200 dollars is going to be stretched out for a week, put aside for rent, or blown on drugs.
Most money always seems to end up in the possession of assholes. So, what I have decided to start doing is wiping my arse with my money, because it seems like that’s where it belongs.
I have performed a lot of verbs in my 22 year life so far. Mainly the ones I use are for survival. Eating, sleeping, shitting, and avoiding death from the elements. I also drive, although sometimes I look at driving as avoiding death from the stupidity of other human drivers that don’t take into account fellow human drivers lives that they hold so carelessly in their hands. However, that is a topic to discuss for another time.
I do many things, in the smallest sense of the word do. However, in the biggest sense of the word, I don’t really do anything.
One thing that I can say that I have never done, or at least don’t think I have, is blog. Put my thoughts and ideas, however deep or even silly, onto the internet for everybody and possibly nobody to read is a concept that I am still trying to understand the point of. Yes, I am constructively expressing myself with my words, but who fucking cares?
Is a blog anything if nobody cares? What if nobody reads it? What if people do read it? Is it worth the reaction of say maybe 20 people who come across something I have written? I like to think it is.
For me, communicating with people should always bring about an outcome, at least emotionally. When I use my favorite method of communicating (talking face to face with people), I always try to conjure up a smile from either both the opposite party and myself or just myself (there are tough cookies out there). When you make someone smile or laugh, you are changing their emotional state, even if it is for a brief moment. I find this change incredible, and it almost feels like a special ability to think I can distort how someone feels temporarily. When I can see that I made a person “happier” for perhaps one minute out of their shitty existence, wow, “Go me.”
So perhaps that will be the point of my blogging. I want to talk about things. Silly things. Serious things. I want to laugh. I want people to laugh with me, shit, even at me. Maybe the point of this blog is to appease this small, or perhaps giant egoism that I have. The need to be heard and appreciated makes me feel good, as it does to most people. Whatever the purpose of this blog and future blogs is, I hope it is enjoyed.