Some mornings the Positive Wolf stays tucked in his den, curled up and snoring. He can go out all day, he’s not some working chump like you. So you end up alone in the basement with your the Negative Mind.
It starts with the usual questions. “Why the hell are we doing this again?” And then starts the barter, “hey, you know bedtime was late last night and all we’re short sleep, so you could just do the minimum number of sets today and skip the two extra…”
Sometimes you can’t even hear the banter over the popping and complaining of your 47 year old joints ringing with their years of misuse and abuse. Forget the actual exercises, you pathetically struggle and grunt just to get up off the floor and transition between them. And really, you have no answer for your Mind, you don’t know why you’re doing it except that, if you can remember and remind yourself often enough, it’s to avoid the feelings of regret, disappointment and lack of accomplishment when you don’t.
Those are far worse, and you try to remember that when you’re struggling to even stand up off the floor.
Bit of a late season spring snowstorm dumping about 10cm of snow on our neck of the woods today. That ‘spring snow’ that is very heavy and wet and clings to everything. Huge monster flakes that are hard to miss. Went out for a walk at lunch just because.
I find days like this tricky for cameras on phones. Snowy and overcast, the photos always end up with a lot of blue in them. I adjusted this one in Photoshop a bit, but it’s still not quite what it was like standing there.
I had a dream last night that I was hanging at some sort of house/bbq/pool party somewhere and I’m in the kitchen talking to Martin Lawrence – yeah, THAT Martin Lawrence – and also, Ice Cube was hanging out with some other people in the kitchen as well. Because that’s the kind of parties I hang out at. In strolls Dr. Dre (see previous comment) and I bust out some line of rap that I can’t remember now but it basically described me being there with those guys in that situation and I managed to rhyme ‘nice’ with ‘Ice’ and ‘kids pool day’ with ‘Dre’ and I got a laugh out of them and everyone in the room. I turn back to Martin who’s laughing and I say, “Damn, man, as a white guy in this room who just dropped a line mentioning Cube and Dre in it AND got a laugh out of ‘em, that’s about as good as I’m ever going to get. I pretty much need to quit right now.” And he laughed harder at that. So that’s why I’m no longer in the rap game. You know, because people been askin’.
I am gonna sit here an write this because Titus told me to I don’t know why. I don’t know why I’m writing or what to write about.
I don’t believe in blogs anymore. There are too many blogs. Blogs are dead. Blogs are news magazines. Blogs are old news. Some blogs are fake news. I can remember when there were no blogs. People used to sit and write in their journals and keep shit to themselves. Now we have to tell everyone and it’s become increasingly difficult to find anything worth reading. I’ve returned to books.
I don’t have anything to say. At least nothing that someone else probably hasn’t said already on one of the 350 million Tumbler blogs alone on the internet. More WordPress blogs. Blogspot. Blogger. Blot. Squarespace. Millions. Millions of words and people who want to be heard. Are they getting what they want? What they need? Do they know?
I’ve felt compelled lately to start writing and posting to my blog again. My glob. My glob of words and nonsense. I don’t know why. Few people will read it. I’m not interested in stats. I’m not interested in page views. I’m not really interested in validation through comments. Or confirmation. Or trivial argument. Or “yeah, I feel you dude’s”. This is not an affront to my past commenters, it’s just that social media picked up that comment thread – literally – and wore it the fuck out. For all intents and purposes comment threads are the dumpster of the internet. I’m convinced it’s the worst possible way to engage with anyone on a serious level. You want discourse, email me – and let’s get it on – old school style. Make sure you bring some well thought out and fully composed sentences and paragraphs. Check your damn spelling and punctuation. REREAD what you’ve written for clarity and content. Make sure it MAKES SENSE. If I wanted sentence fragments spouted from your thumbs while you’re in the process of taking a dump I’d have stayed on Twitter.
I’m not interested in my old posts. No one is really. No one goes back and reads old blog posts. I don’t anyway. Not mine. Not anyone else’s. When was the last time you did? We don’t have the time. We are about now. About economy. About disposability. We’ve got notifications to attend to. We read words and if they don’t instantly capture us, we dump them and move on. We don’t even read whole blog posts anymore unless they are confirming what we already believe, filling a need, creating a warm fuzzy feeling or in some other way validating us. If you don’t have your reader by the short and curlys in the first sentence. You’ve lost them. They’re gone. They just went and bought something online. They’ve forgotten about you. I think I will start making posts just a sentence long. And overwriting the previous one. It’s there, then it’s gone. You either get it or you don’t. It’s an instant.
Maybe Titus is right. I just start writing with no idea at all and came up with an idea. Just because I felt like I needed to write. I had some ideas whirling in my head earlier today thatI thought were going to compose a post and none of them made the cut. I don’t know where they are now. Really, when you think about it, that’s about all there is really, to life maybe. One sentence at a time. Call it an experiment. Call it lazy. Call it an idea that someone else on the internet has probably already come up with – but I’m too lazy to look for it.