So here I go, jumping on the blog bandwagon like a hundred million other self-important peons eager for a venue. Why am I doing this? Lots of reasons I guess, writing practice, making myself think, like that. Mostly though I am sick to death of being the nice guy who doesn't argue and who's politically correct and doesn't put himself forward. Well, here I'm not going to apologize for anything I write and anyone who doesn't like it can piss off. Go read somebody else's. I didn't do it for you anyway. Therapy. I already know I'm full of more anxieties than six volumes of Charlie Brown comics and that medication and counselling only go so far. I know how flawed I am and how fucked-up I am. I know I'll never be rich or famous or live up to my potential. It won't matter if I live another sixty years it will feel like six weeks and then the lights go out. So I'm going to take it out on the world via the blogosphere and any one out there can read it or not.
So. What can the reader expect from me? Mostly off the cuff commentary sometimes about stuff I like (books, f'r instance), probably much more about stuff I can't stand (George W. "The Organ Grinder's Monkey" Bush). Possibly some verse. Maybe some book reviews. Existential ranting. We'll just have to see. Whatever it will be I own it. It's me and nobody else and I will say what I want to say. In this tiny little kingdom, mine is the power and the glory, even if its not forever.
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