Marc
We kid, Mjarcie, because we really want you to shut yer piehole. -- Zach Ooooh!n, a post from today
You kid cause you know that it will actually make me stop talking about certain things. Dicks.
One. Who are these people anyways? Are they real? Imagined? Zach's little ploy to get me to stop blogging once and for all? Elves in trees with nothing better to do than send whiny emails to humans about other humans? What's happened to us? We're letting our lives be run by elves now? How sad.
Two. I thought to myself today that, yes, at some point in my life I would like to see what being a television critic would be like. Thus, I would like to be a television critic someday. I don't know why I thought this. General rambling brain activity, I guess. Then I felt very sad and lonely because my one aspiration at that particular moment in time -- the only thing that was keeping me alive and kicking right then and there -- was my need to someday become a television critic, if only for a little while.
Three. Watched the Fanography for Eminem this afternoon and wondered why so many people devote themselves so entirely to someone that they've never met. This has always puzzled me about fans, or overly-excited admirers, or whatev. Then I thought about who my biggest fan would be, and my first thought was "Mom", but then I realized that it's probably not her -- it's me. I write these things and I think, "dude ... that was awesome!" And I go to sleep happy, only to wake up the next day and find all the other people on this page making fun of me. But that's okay. I'll keep on trucking, moving forward. I'm my biggest inspiration.
Four. But why move forward, really? I'm getting the hint that no one really cares what I have to say? And why should they? I hate watching those people on those creepy fan shows because it always makes me think, "why are they talking? what is their purpose/reason/whatev for doing this? why should I listen to them?" Turn the tables around and I guess I could see being someone else and wondering why anything I ever say is important. I'm rambly, inconsistent, and pointless most of the time. I post mostly grazing-the-surface type stuff about days and thoughts and so forth. Nothing that really matters. Maybe I'm just not important. Never thought of it like that.
I'm not Brad. I'm me. Nice to meet 'ya.
Up next: n/a.
We kid, Mjarcie, because we really want you to shut yer piehole. -- Zach Ooooh!n, a post from today
You kid cause you know that it will actually make me stop talking about certain things. Dicks.
One. Who are these people anyways? Are they real? Imagined? Zach's little ploy to get me to stop blogging once and for all? Elves in trees with nothing better to do than send whiny emails to humans about other humans? What's happened to us? We're letting our lives be run by elves now? How sad.
Two. I thought to myself today that, yes, at some point in my life I would like to see what being a television critic would be like. Thus, I would like to be a television critic someday. I don't know why I thought this. General rambling brain activity, I guess. Then I felt very sad and lonely because my one aspiration at that particular moment in time -- the only thing that was keeping me alive and kicking right then and there -- was my need to someday become a television critic, if only for a little while.
Three. Watched the Fanography for Eminem this afternoon and wondered why so many people devote themselves so entirely to someone that they've never met. This has always puzzled me about fans, or overly-excited admirers, or whatev. Then I thought about who my biggest fan would be, and my first thought was "Mom", but then I realized that it's probably not her -- it's me. I write these things and I think, "dude ... that was awesome!" And I go to sleep happy, only to wake up the next day and find all the other people on this page making fun of me. But that's okay. I'll keep on trucking, moving forward. I'm my biggest inspiration.
Four. But why move forward, really? I'm getting the hint that no one really cares what I have to say? And why should they? I hate watching those people on those creepy fan shows because it always makes me think, "why are they talking? what is their purpose/reason/whatev for doing this? why should I listen to them?" Turn the tables around and I guess I could see being someone else and wondering why anything I ever say is important. I'm rambly, inconsistent, and pointless most of the time. I post mostly grazing-the-surface type stuff about days and thoughts and so forth. Nothing that really matters. Maybe I'm just not important. Never thought of it like that.
I'm not Brad. I'm me. Nice to meet 'ya.
Up next: n/a.
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