Today my 62 year old father started his own blog, so I guess I can too. Today I'm procrastinating while I should be writing a six page research paper about the history of Thailand.
My dad's birthday was yesterday so we went and saw the Aristocrats and then musical shakespere - which led to a fun, if odd, day.
Short first entry, I know. But more to come in the future...
So, so many choices about how I can manage the look of this thing. Experimented a while. So far, the only thing I like is the goat.
It occurs to me I should have started this blog a year ago when I was still on medication, was seeing bats and spiders and having dirty weekends with various young things from nerve.com.
Now my life is just drinking, smoking and fucking my gf - which is fun for me, but perhaps less so for you guys to read about.
On monday my crazy british desiger is going to try to paginate a book for my crazy Irish mother. Hopefully this will not lead to another Celtic war.
So a guy goes into a venture captialist's office and says "I have a great idea for a money making blog!"
"Oh yeah", says the VC. "What?"
"Well, first we start writing about eating shit. Then we have a few entries on vomit. Next, we have an entire month of entries about incest and goat fucking. Finally, once we start signing people up, we start talking about making people eat shit while fucking dead goats!"
"Damn, what the hell will you call that blog?"
It's so easy to update this blog I'm terrified I will do so while drunk and post something awful about killing Canadians to turn them into fuel, secret ways to get high off kitten blood or somehow insult a small nation in the Baltic.
I wonder if there is a why to attach an alcohol tester to my computer and have it not let me blog unless I can blow a .08 or less.
If someone has such a device let me know.
Brett Easton Ellis once said "I've become very good at impersonating myself."
I think that's sort of what blogging is, right? Some weird mixture of fact and fiction designed to give a view of someone that's more true than a 100 percent true account would be?
Jacques Derrida says that words by their nature can't tell the truth anyway, so perhaps the quest for anything real in a blog is just tilting at windmills (of course, I'm very good at both talkin shit and tilting at windmills, so this may be the ideal venue for me.)
My girlfriend comes back tomorrow from a week spent at her mom's house. Meanwhile I have a six page thing on Thailand due by Monday, that I'm clearly not doing tonight, so Sunday should be an interesting mixture of "holy shit I missed you making out" and "holy fuck I have to write about Thailand's history!"
Saturday is frustrating in Brooklyn. From Sunday through Monday the local bar has happy hour until 9 pm which means I can go get my ass a cheap drink after an early dinner. On Saturday, however, the happy hour does not start until Midnight - so I either have to buy expensive drinks now or wait until midnight.
Those that know me, know there is only one choice in this situation.