“Perhaps you had better start from the beginning.”
-White Zombie, Electric Head Part 1
Well fuck all!
Yes, fuck all.
I am bored. I am not bored with anything more than this fucking blog. I have had this blog for going on three years and another one or two blogs for just as long…granted I killed them too. Oops, spoiler alert!
Used to be that writing for Speaking Out on Life was something that I looked forward to, hell used to get a chubby for, especially when I had a plan. By plan, I mean five or six posts in a row that had a subject or theme or whateveryoudliketocall whatever it was that I used to do, and yes that is supposed to be one very long word. Then I graduated from college and everything went to shit, because I had NOTHiNG to write about. Nothing at all and I don’t like Seinfeld anymore than anyone else did and don’t LIE everyone hated Seinfeld, deep down in your soul or wherever that pit of humanness is you hated Seinfled. It was a show about nothing, about people who had you known them you would have unfriended and tried to find someone to take them out for as many TGIMcFuckster coupons as you could gather in your grubby hands.
Floundering about. I don’t like to flounder. I do enjoy flounder, but I don’t enjoy floundering about.
Shit fuck, I got all off on a tangent before getting..damnit, starting with the begining…who here likes history…not that five years is really history, more like a story your grandparents tell about you as a child, “Yes, yes, I was naked in the bath as a baby and it was cute how i loved the bubbles and farted causing more bubbles and a stink.” Damn that was an honest moment or was it?
It wasn’t, I was never a baby. I do fart. And tell dick jokes. And say non-appropriate things in public, I call it speaking my mind and telling stories but we all have our own view of reality and myne is way more fun.
“I’m hungry and need to kill things.”
-Me to the rather baffled checkout clerk (I had bread and fly killing devices)
So history that is not really history, I studied history, I know what history is and there I was sitting in some fuck all class being “taught” by a fuckwit, not fucktard, but fuckwit who thought she knew more than me which is normally the case in the classroom, but not her and she thought she would teach me a lesson and boy did I teach her a few. And that is how Speaking Out Life was given birth. Disgusting right?
Yes, I saw the proverbial light, actually the window was open and light did shine down on the pile of crap I was attempting to clean up and there, right there, no over there was a pile of my writing. Did I mention I am a prolific writer? I should have, as I have four books, self-published of course, no one likes my writing enough to put their career at risk to publish this shitte, of previous writing and I had an AH HA moment…speaking of Ah HA moments take a moment to enjoy this video…
Any way to make an even longer story long, I am bored of this blog as this blog’s birth had two reasons for existing…
- A fuckwit thought I was too profane and “professional” writers cannot be profane, thus I wanted and did prove her wrong
College is over, has been over, and the fuckwit is I assume off doing fuckwit things, thus inspired by a pile of my writing which upon reflection I thought was damn good or at least a damn site (I know that is not right site) more interesting than a lot of the clap trap I put on here, thus I return to my roots and I hope those of you who used to receive the rambling enjoy your flashbacks and nightmares.
What does that mean for here…other than some cosmetic changes and a change in overall tone, next to nothing, I will continue to Scrawl away, although the amount and frequency will change to something more realistic and fitting for interest…one other change, Puddles and Whiskers are leaving, exiting stage dive, they are getting their own blog shortly. I love those cats too much not to keep writing them, but they deserve their own place. I’ll let you know.
“I am bacon to your eggs.”
“Sounds sexual, but shouldn’t that be, I am sausage to your eggs?”
“Patties or links?”
-Conversation over a shirt at Bob Evan’s