What Template Says Me

Just like a pair of shoes or a new shirt, a somewhat conscious choice has to be made here. What particular blogging template represents me, this virtual self, digitized into cyberspace to float amongst all the pornographic spam, diet recepies, and chat room fodder. My own words probably fit into either the first or last catagory, but living in this world of tabloid hello ME where strangers seemingly have no problem expelling their virtual guts into the technological world of self expression no longer troubles me morally anymore, wouldn't Picasso be proud, maybe at least Dali. Nowadays I live for the self indulgent fun of shows like Jackass who needs high art and intelligent thought, does anyone even recognize it or give a damn. I might but probably should pretend to enjoy the monday night football game on the other page of my web browser instead. Getting drunk is an idea, go out amongst the people, take the pulse of the world, I need material for this new endeavor that has hung around my neck ever since I had enough sense to write things down on paper, artistic or whatever. I use to wall paper my room as a teenager with handwritten poetry, then get high on blotter acid to watch the words flow like an ocean, an ocean of subhuman intelligence. Life at that age felt so romantic and new, every experience had an aura of freshness about it, drugs, getting laid, hell even sitting in community college level classes dumbfounded without a clue of how to do any of the homework felt surreal, like a tourist, nothing really counts, we have something more inventful for the likes of you, it's called a service sector job, marriage, kids, and a faint idea of something called creative talent which you shall torture yourself with in a constant battle of art vs entertainment, where making a dollar the easyway with fresh pressed bullshit just so lame kids in urban america can feel good about themselves can become reality.

Well, maybe they will finally get their chance, I am getting old now and my narcissic (sp?) ego is beginning to fill in for my declining looks, nothing like having to survive on spirit, guts, and inventiveness; it requires so much brain power, much easier to be very very good looking and let someone else worry about the bills. Godzilla is rattling the cage now along with all the other loonies in my head at the idea of self publishing, isn't this what this whole blogging thing is after all, the god child of Guttenberg, he'd cream his pants if he's ever thought it would be possible to transmit viral material all over the world, a bible for every man, woman, and child, but not in this life bubba, I need my social network fix, to find out if my best friend is also watching Gray's Anatomy or illegally downloading the newest movie in the New Moon vampire series. Social networking has to be the most self indulgent thing created since chocolate and crack, I imagine anyone reading this has tried the former, more so than the latter, yet I do know some rather free spirited people, but for another time.

My life is on trial here, it's amusement, relevance, and overall ability to make people do something, wanted to say think, but I only offer what is recorded in my senses, mind, and learned environment, this is an attempt to transfer information like magnetic tape, a cassette player, 8 track, 5 in floppy disk, and all the other obsolete technology created since the first human being put stone to flint and created art, urrr, I mean fire, fuck art that is retirement home stuff, wheelchair material inbetween golf sessions and trips to the proctologist, none of that will be going on here, no we're are going to get into the innards, between the teeth, inside the single cell being called the human and with so many to choose from on a daily basis, there is no doubt I will be able to use my inadequate english skills to recall some of the rather unique, uncomfortable, and at time disasterous moments called life. I look forward to this like a junkie cooking up the next fix, life has purpose now, hooray, mother put away my revolver, have no need for it now, if only to cover myself from fire when a nerve is actually struck, but isn't that great, isn't that what good reading is all about, Nixon might not think so, he rather used those tapes as New Year's confetti, but who the hell is Nixon anyway. This is the era of choice, the freedom to spend, wallow in debt, and do enough narcotics not to care, eh, political stuff, best to divert, back to the point, the revival of the quill, to pen such magnificant documents as the Magna Carta and Declaration of Independence, my new personal joy and much better alternative to Facebook, time to get wired in, the digitizing of Antony Miller begins today.