Sort of increasingly stupid, this whole blogging thing, don'tcha think? I mean, really, every motherfucker out there has got one, and no one's any more or less interesting than anyone else when you come right down to it. And on top of that, who has time to read? My girllfriend is away for two months, I'm unemployed (though writing all day) and I have maybe two nights a week of stuff to do. And I don't read. I hardly have time. I read when I'm in bed unable to sleep. Not sitting upright at the computer. Okay, except for the occasional TruthOut article or Pitchfork review. But is anyone doing one of these really keeping me hanging on by describing their thesis paper woes at grad school? It's like in The Incredibles, you know, if we're all Super, then what's the point? I think what it is is I'm losing interest. Either that or cat-sitting my girlfriend's white furball is starting to get to me. Cat hair everywhere. Constant meowing. A nice chunky hairball yesterday. Yeah.
I guess I'm in a bit of a grim mood lately, or a "what's the point" mood, at least. I've been reading (when unable to sleep) The Long Emergency (which further contributes to insomnia), which is all about the Peak Oil thing. We are in for it when the tap runs dry. According to this guy, at least, pretty much the world as we know it is a nice piece of burnt toast. Then somebody told me about the Maya Calendar last night, and, I mean, that's all I need - although there is a weird comfort to knowing what is possibly the exact date of end times.
All this has led me to some awfully dark places lately, which, at the recommendation of my highly paid professional therapist, I've tried to leaven by watching reruns of The Simpsons. Ol' brain doctor thinks I dwell on the negative. Really? What next doc, gonna tell me that I could stand to lose 15 pounds? What mighty powers of observation, Dr. Freud.
Anyway. It's a nice enough day here in soon-to-be-returned-to-the-sands-of-time Southern California. So I'm going to go for a walk and see if I can spot a bluebird or something and not think about the doomsday of my writing career, which is as fucking dead as those bird-flu chickens in Turkey.
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2 comments:
Do many making opportunity comments add to the doom and gloom? :) Do people actually fall for that?
Sure, there's oodles of bloggers out there, but everybody's got their own individual voice. I dig yours, so keep it up.
I am glad you wrote, Drew, because for a tenth of a second I though, wow, someone I don't know reads my... ah, crap its spam. And then you come right back with the spot-on retort. Nice one! And glad you like it. I'm not gonna let the spammers get me down, or the easy money bastards. I'm not even gonna let peak oil get me down. I just came back from buying some local produce at the Silverlake Farmer's market. A stranger likes my blog and I've got a bag full of organic peaches. Life is good.
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