And Here I Am Again
Everybody: I’m pleased to announce nothing! Actually, I’m not pleased at all. I’m quite disappointed, actually. Disappointed in myself. But then I become pleased again, and I forget everything bad that happened in my life, including not writing a novel. Oh, spoiler! Yeah, I didn’t do that. I would be more serious in this matter, but…
Remember how in the last article I was talking about how people who have the opportunity to use their talents to improve people’s lives are morally righteous and those who don’t have the discipline to do so are morally degenerative? That’s kind of how this is: you could have rescued me from drowning, me, in milquetoast mediocre human-nature averageness, where my laziness has led me to abandon a project I murdered before even starting.
Let me count the words I made on my pretty fingers and toes. Well, surprise, I actually wrote some, but it wasn’t a shit-ton like my last novel effort, that’s for sure. Wanna know how much? I didn’t even count. I got three drafts of a few hundred words in different styles, all sitting there on my laptop some time. I gave up some time in July. I don’t know why, but I blame social media. Shitposting on 4chan and browsing stanky dank maymays on Reddit is more pleasing to the monkey brain than.
I might have an addiction. I’m not actually sure. I read these stories on /trash/ and /r9k/ about people who don’t go outside for months on end and are consistently depressed because they haven’t done anything in life. They wake up, play around on their PCs, eat their microwave meals, and go to bed. I’m happy I don’t suffer the crap food, but I do suffer the crap life.
It’s not so bad. Every time I bring this up to myself, I think about this quote I read on Coding Horror: “No one ever said on their deathbed, ‘Gee, I wish I had spent more time alone with my computer’”. And that was from a programmer! Imagine me, not even knowing how to invert a list in Python 2 or 3 or sixty-nine billion. But, again, it’s not so bad. And why?
Well, for one thing I’m in the best country in the whole damn world, so that stands for one thing. No matter what race you are, no matter what colour your skin is cursed with, all of you are little tiny babies compared to Canada. It’s enlightening to know I can slit both my wrists while huffing meth on public transit and I’d still have my hospital bills paid by Trudeau 2. Not that I’m going to do that, mind you. I still got shit to do here. And if I would kill myself, it’d be the guillotine. Finna rent one off Kijiji.
For another thing, I happen not to be naked or starving or in fear of being shot by some scary guys in black headwraps, although after years of fighting a war against every government on Earth, they’d have run out of rocks to shove in their AK’s and will resort to the in-vogue execution method of decapitation via pocket knife. It’s fitting for us first-worlders to sit on our couches, stare at our televisions, and see human misery all across the world while eating baked beans and macaroni. What the fuck are we supposed to do? Nothing. But we can be grateful we’re not there, wherever there happens to be now, yet always in the Middle East for some religious reason.
So I got that going for me. I suppose I should be grateful to spend my life fposting on Timorese crotcheting websites rather than sending my eight children to literally swim through garbage to gather the last tasty corn kernels out of a cow’s morning turd just to eat more than three calories that day, before getting pricked by a used heroin needle and dying of HIV and-or AIDS. I’m not dead! I’m not even dying at an appreciable rate! So fuck you, Brazilian trash boys. I’m alive and you aren’t!
Do you remember my extremely good and very-well-aged-like-fine-wine-if-you-drink-wine article, “Twenty Books Changed My Life”? You better. It’s the one-year-anniversary of that beeyotch. Number one on that list is a book on Stoic dogma. And being a Stoic still, even if I’m a shitty Stoic, I have an appreciation for the things I have, and am grateful that I continue to have them even when I could just as easily not. All my human rights ― my food, my shelter, my ability to walk to McDonald’s without wading through three feet of garbage ― could simply not be here. Arrogant, I am, to be unhappy because of this.
So while I may not have finished my novel, or even started my novel, or even created a plot for my novel, the important thing is that I could have it worse. I didn’t try at all and I still failed miserably. The lesson is: never try.
WH4T NOW? Homestuck Reference
Pfft, I dunno. I might write some more crap up here. I might not. It’s been getting harder and harder to write. I don’t understand it, myself. What happened to my animal charisma and ability to effortlessly spin words into persuasive argument? Maybe I lost it, maybe it was pilfered from me. Maybe I pawned it in exchange for bad anime. Maybe I never had it. Maybe you’ll think of me when you’re all alone. The Ink Spots ― Maybe. Fallout 3 thing. Better than New Vegas. MOM, I WROTE AN OPINION ON THE INTERNET!
If I am to make a schedule for this Web enterprise called Frogesay, it’ll certainly be more lenient. I don’t have a backlog. I don’t have any opinions! I used my last one up to talk about a fucking Bethesda game! Am I so out-of-touch that I can’t even bother to care about anything? No, it’s the children who are wrong. Oh, idea! I’ll just transform my once-original property into a Simpsons quote blog for the next thirty years, just like Dead Homer Society. They still get two dipshits a day commenting on their posts, so that beats my whopping zero. By, like, two. Sometimes one.
I really should be able to spend five minutes writing some dumb shit on the Internet, even if I have to take out 5% of my jerking off budget to do so. Even if it’s just a Hangover. Hell, especially if it’s a Hangover. That’s the whole gimmick. I’m not supposed to think about these things. I barely even drink alcohol. Maybe I should. You see kids, I’m always giving you the good advice here: alcohol is the solution to all of life’s problems. It also causes them. Another Simpsons quote! Damn, I should write these down. I’m so fucking cool. Yeah, I’m so funny for quoting a thirty-year-old cartoon. I’m so fucking funny.
I’m rambling at this point. Is this entertaining to you?
Good, I’m happy. Good night!