Sharing is Caring

Have a clever thought?  Tell your ten Facebook friends, or seven Twitter followers.  Or blog about it to your fifteen followers (thanks, I guess).

Whatever you end up doing, it's always regarded as sharing.  And it's with this thought that I've recently come to the realization I'm not an e-crack dealer...I'm an every day, run of the mill, narcissistic asshole.  It's me who needs you.  You're my crack.  I'm the e-whore who e-sucks e-dick for e-validation.

You want an EJ brah?  Two comments please.

"Wow that's all?!"

I know right...I'm so reasonable I'm almost not the exact same thing as a 20 year old girl who tells her friends how fat she is so she can hear them tell her how pretty and skinny she is.

God my blog sucks.

"Oh my god, like...your writing is sooo good.  I love how you are like ten times the blogger I am even though you only have like, four blogs."

Thanks, I guess.  Now I know how awesome I am and you haven't positively reinforced a the most annoying, attention seeking behavior in the world.

God my blog sucks.

"Oh my god, like................shut the fuck up!"

PLEASE LOVE MY BLOGGING!  I'm like an altruistic, compulsive sharer.  Can't you see how much I sacrifice for you?  I mean...isn't it obvious that I'm not completely egocentric?  That I do this for you?  If you don't know all the minutia of my day how are you supposed to remind me how cool I am, even though I'm a confident, self-reliant individual.

Clearly, I'm not rationalizing a behavior that even I realize is destructive.  I can't help it if everybody around me loves me so much they just want to be me.  It's not like I hate myself.  I'm in love with myself.  Wait...what's that?  You have the greatest boyfriend in the world and you couldn't be happier?  You don't know where you'd be in life without your idol Jesus?  Your puppy is sooooooooooo funny?  You're getting a nice base tan before your two week cruise in Mexico?

Thanks for sharing.  You're fucking awesome!

My Mind's Morose Meandering

This blog is just so good that you can't but help read about it every few days.

I can already feel it in my fingers as I type every sentence.  You're probably wondering where my wonderful writing will take you next this very second.  Yes...my mind's morose meanderings are all that you have now.  How quickly you went from not caring at all about me to needing me.  It's strange though...this particular blog isn't as good as the last two.

That's okay though...you just dismiss the fact that you're not feeling the same rush as you did the first two times.

"It'll come back...I just need to read one more paragraph.  That's all...just one more paragraph."

There's that wonderful feeling.  It's like waves of euphoria pouring down your body, constantly, yet in slow motion.  It starts on the sides of your head, building up slowly over time until it overflows down into your neck and shoulders.  Then it builds up again, and shoots down your arms and torso...all the way down, over and over.

"That was nice, I guess."

You're all fools though.  It's time to reveal my true identity to you...I'm an e-crack dealer.  I give you the good shit for the first two blogs, and once you're hooked I give you garbage.  Blogs cut with bad writings and seplling mistakes.  It's all about supply and demand.  Basic assumptions of suply and demand say that as supply goes down, demand goes up.  But I have an inelastic product at my fingertips.

"God this sucks..."

This means I have to keep you thinking that your getting you're e-crack with a bad product.  Maybe I'll start rebranding my self or something.  How does 'The Eternal Optimist' sound to you?  To obvious, right?  But I can't have you leave me and find another e-crack dealer who gives you that final rush that puts you over the edge because you're so used to reading crap that you read too much good shit and OD.  That would be bad. 

It's all good though.  There's a couple brainstorms in the making that should make for sum good readings. 

Stay tooned.

So why Menippus?

Simply put...because poems are fucking gay.  It's very natural for me to write as I speak (prose) compared to metered/structured writing (poems).  I can remember hating poems ever since I was a wee little cynic in eighth grade.  The hate began with an assignment for a Humanities/English class, and if I recall correctly, we had to write something like ten different poems using ten different styles.  My very first "poem" was about how I hated poems so much.

Don't get me wrong...some people can pull it off.  Homer and Luo Guanzhong of Romance of the Three Kingdoms come to mind.  But they're epic writers/philosophers, and I'm just some douchebag with an online blog.  You think in thousands and thousands of years, when Google's old servers are found by the new super human race, and they recover my blog, my shit will be so good that they'd base a whole assignment on prose writing for their eighth graders?

Probably not...but maybe we'll be so foreign to them by then that it'd be worth a second look.  I don't think any of the ancient homo sapiens who engraved petroglyphs on rock thought that in a thousand years people would look at the carvings with wonder.  I hope the super humans don't understand this blog when they see it. They'll stare at it in awe, and wonder if there's any significance to it, when really it's just some doucher douching some insignificant douche on the Douchynet.

Hey super humans.....fuck you!

On a more related note...Menippus is kind of a mystery.  None of his works survived, but he was the original playa hata, ya dig?  I may never become an epic a good writer whose work is revered thousands of years later, but I can at least strive to fascinate some future, super human kid whose parents paid $125 space dollars to go to the crappy Google museum on Mars.  Even if at first he didn't want to go, but his dad convinced him otherwise cause he's kind of a nerd, and he's interested in stupid old shit such as old, unintelligible blogs found on old, useless Google servers.  But I digress...

I'd be content if that's the only thing this blog amounts to.  For now though, I'll just continue to do what I'm doing regardless.

I hate lots of things...

I hate lots of things, seemingly for no good reason other than, "Hating is what I like".  This will be the basic theme of my blog; a blog which I will probably hate.  This is not original in the least...I know that, and I hate that.  People have been writing their thoughts for centuries, all of them probably better and funnier than what I could ever be.  In the short list of things I don't hate however, is two things I think every person should continually strive towards: genuineness, and working on something so much, and with such vigor, that you become so goddamn good at it you can be a smug asshole for the hell of it.

For me, that includes drumming/music foremost and writing secondly.  Likewise, those will be secondary themes for my blog, not that you give a damn.  If you're still reading up to this point I'd be surprised, and I'd question your actions.  Why should you give a damn about what I have to say when I'd probably dismiss anything you say, and virilely disagree with you, then write a crappy blog about how much I hate it?  That's a good question.  If you thought of that before you read this far then I probably don't hate you.  I applaud you for thinking like a true cynic.  

As if you give a fuck.

But surprise me, feel free...that would be kind of cool.  Cool in the way a hot chick smokes her cigarette between her third and fourth beer; right before she goes on a tirade about how shitty guys are, as the fourth guy in a row with a popped collar asks to buy her a drink.  That's also on my like list.  Maybe I'll actually make a like list.  Every title of my new blogs perhaps?  A hater's blog, on things he likes.  What should be my tagline? I'm thinking, "Perspectives from a self-deprecating misanthrope".  

"But...but, random blogger...........................I still don't care." 

That's okay, cause I don't either.  I don't speak for anyone but myself.  I just want to be an awesome drummer, a good writer, and I want to earn the right to be this douchy.  One day perhaps...I'll have to work my ass off for it, but I'll have earned it.

And you know for damn sure I'll be genuine.