I’m not new to blogging. I’ve had many blogs. Just not a lot of people knew about them. That, or they were ‘private’ to an audience of 100. I like to rant, I’m opinionated, I have a mental illness and I really dislike most of the world’s population (oh, have I met them all? No.) I know how ridiculous I can sound too, and guess what? Don’t care. It’s my charm.
Blogs aren’t private, no matter how much you think they are/protect them. We know this right?
So, really, I’d like to know who’s reading? Just comment. Tell me. Please. I don’t list myself anywhere, I don’t market myself.. It’s an experiment of sorts, I guess. Isn’t life a fucking experiment??
I have learned to not write about anything that I wouldn’t want used against me. I’m a pretty open person, but I wouldn’t want my loved ones to suffer by the things I say. That said: My Mother has learned more about me in the last few years through my blog. This makes me sad, but also happy. Why? I do not know.
My Aunt came home from New York with a Dundler Mifflin mug. Every time I answer my phone the urge to say ‘Dundler Mifflin’ how can I help you? It is surpassed by the fact that NO ONE ELSE WILL THINK IT’S FUNNY.
So I don’t.
Speaking of past blogs: Check this shit out! 2000 represent baby. I love the way back machine. And how embarrassing.
How how how?
I had a webcam.
And Livejournal. And I wore bad lipstick.
I’m so glad to be almost 31 now, you don’t even know.
How does one become a writer? How do they get noticed? Some by accident, some on purpose, and some just go begging. Do they need to write for a long time? Or a short time?
What makes one a good writer?
I’ve read plenty of books. The current book I’m reading is ‘One Fifth Avenue’, yes by Candace Bushnell who also created Sex and the City. Guess what? I don’t like SATC, but I like One Fifth Avenue.
I was never one for fiction, until I started reading Chuck Palahniuk, Nick Hornby and Douglas Coupland. All 3 great male authors with an ability to make you think outside the box. My kind of thinking. Chuck Palahniuk caters to my sick and twisted mind and humour. So much so that I will tell people to read Choke, they’d ask why, I tell them and they become stunned. I just don’t get the mentality of reading fairy lite books. Fairy Lite = surface non funny light hearted shit. Dig a little deeper, why don’t you?
Candace Bushnell? What kind of writing is that? This is the genre I like to call ‘Tartlike’. It has sex, drugs, celebrity, writers, authors, rock n roll, older men dating younger women, drama. All the things that I like to read about when I’m not reading about writing that make me think. So I make fun of people for reading this stuff on the constant, but I’m allowed to read it once in a while.
Truth be told, people like Tartness. They love it. They bask in it. They want to be the Tart. The hard part is admitting that they do. I am admitting it.
Now, if Chuck Palahniuk can create a sick and twisted tartlike book I’d be in heaven (if in fact it exists, otherwise I’ll just be in a fictional sort of heaven which would be like being in the Maldives