As I transition away from alty bandgeek and into technerd with a side of artfag 9000 I find that through most of my personality re-incarnations one thing has remained constant. I am a goober. By that I mean a dork, or if you prefer, nerd. Personally I don’t like the ‘N’ word anymore because it has been darlinged about all too often in magazines like blender, source and (gaakk!) spin when referencing numb-nuts barking pumpkins wanaabees alt-country-psych whatever bands. I hate them, hate them all. Back to the point: I am truly dork-tastic. Example you say? Allrighty – my heart was reduced to strainer pulp not long ago by a beautiful woman. It happened quickly and because I am the consumate social misfit I missed all the signs completely, forcing this wicked vixen to become so frustrated at my inability to detect the subtlety of our impending demise that she actually had to stick her hand into my chest and hand me the burned remains of my love muscle. Just like in that indiana jones movie.
I finally got it. SO what do I do? I started a blog. Yep. Not only is that option incredibly unique but the subject matter was of course completely unlike any other blog that had come before it. I decided to publicly air my hurt and resentful feelings of rejection and pain, down to some very pathetic minutiae. Not only that I had some choices to make before hand – which mother f@^king blog to use? I just didn’t think the content would fit well with my Technorati, or lifehacker blogs, ditto for Gizmodo or techdirt. Yelp has totally soured for me and I cant even really put my finger on it but I cant stand even looking at the scrollbars anymore. I had given on up LJ about a year ago because I couldn’t get an ounce of play out of that site, and for some reason it just screams BEIGE! Myspace blog = too ghetto for these kind of passionate rants, facebook = too elite and ivy league and frat or whatever…. I could go on and on about facebook right now. I have about 20 friends and family who are desperate to convert me to “the grown-up” social networking cult but I’m not buyin into it,……yet. SO to complete this uber-emo dork out session I started a blog on (surprise) blogger! (owned by google, like most every quantity content portal) in June and wrote everyday. I also had some photos taken of me with fake blood on my chest in clown makeup. Yes that’s right. Clown make up. Fake bleeding heart. Pictures. I sent her a link to the blog posted the pictures and then scored some internet Zoloft and a case of mendocino syrah, and planned on hunkering down for the remainder of the summer blissed-out and drunk; working on a full uni-bomber beard.
I woke up the next day at 4pm and made the blog private, took down the pictures, and threw away the other 50 packs of Zoloft. I did however begin smoking again. Which I don’t even remember doing. My parting words to her? “you couldn’t possibly dislike me more than I do!” OOOHHH that showed her.
I have to get into a bar. Everything fun in life happens in bars.
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