The Time, She Do Get Away from Ye
So, yeah, it's been almost exactly a month since I dropped by here and did my part to make the digital universe just a little bit brighter. I'd love to say that I've been spoon-feeding the great white sharks of the Great Barrier Reef, or getting halfway through that book about a revenge road trip that's been rolling around my brain for the better part of a year, or "helping" a couple of exotic dancers who look like but aren't twins through their Daddy issues.
But basically, I've been working a new gig, and worrying about my mom. (Looks like she's going to be ok by the way, thanks.) The job is very word-intensive; plus, it involves posting and commenting on news items, and yadda yadda come home and do the same blah blah blah.
(I did find time to cover one of my Telecasters with duct tape, though -- hey, I was bored.)
But basically, I've been working a new gig, and worrying about my mom. (Looks like she's going to be ok by the way, thanks.) The job is very word-intensive; plus, it involves posting and commenting on news items, and yadda yadda come home and do the same blah blah blah.
(I did find time to cover one of my Telecasters with duct tape, though -- hey, I was bored.)
I did think often of dirtytricks, though, and spent some time trying to come up with a theme or topic a little more specific than Ravis' Cavalcade of Random Thoughts, Observations, Listicles and Attempts At Humor. And you know what? I couldn't really come up with one to which I felt enthusiastic about committing. There are already a million blogs that make fun of movies, that wonder why America is so obsessed with celebrity, that chronicle the downfall of the culture, that overshare about the personal lives of people about whom other people otherwise wouldn't care less, that are passionate about music, that pimp skateboarding, that hate on overly trendy people.
So, you know, fuck it. This is the closest thing I've got to an idea journal (or a journal, period), and really, who cares? On with the Bitter, Aging Hipster and the quack quack quack bad movies chizzuh chizzuh commercials suck I'm getting married zip zop I like candy et cetera ...
So, you know, fuck it. This is the closest thing I've got to an idea journal (or a journal, period), and really, who cares? On with the Bitter, Aging Hipster and the quack quack quack bad movies chizzuh chizzuh commercials suck I'm getting married zip zop I like candy et cetera ...
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