I’ve joked in the past that I post here about once each year, but this is probably the first time I’ve actually gone longer than 365 days without putting anything on the Internet. I still write and I still make things, and the people I sell my things to sometimes put said things on the Internet, but I haven’t put anything on the Internet of my own volition in over a year and I feel a little weird about it.
Of course, the best indicator that a website is well and truly dead is when the author posts about how they have not been posting. Deliciously redundant and uninteresting, but maybe it doesn’t matter when after a long period of neglect they are surely speaking only to themselves.
The last time I felt compelled to post here I think it was about the phrase “Born This Way” and how I found it to be totally misguided and possibly offensive. I didn’t wind up writing that, because I figured the people of the good ship Internet wouldn’t get it and would inevitably, stubbornly default to thinking I was being homophobic. The basic point of that post would have been that the way the phrase is used implies there would be something wrong with having chosen to be that way, and to me it always sounds like the person is attempting to excuse some horrible condition. You can see why I decided against publishing those thoughts, yes? Dick and fart jokes seem more appropriate here anyway.
Writing on the Internet, and reading other people’s websites, used to feel like making a connection. It was much more interesting when people didn’t feel the need to stick to just one strict topic or theme. Here’s my baking blog, my shoe blog, my blog about one particular brand of fucking shoes because the wider shoeblog market is over-saturated. But no, we don’t want this to turn into a post about the good old days, either.
We’ll see about making a new website if I can’t get my dick up for this one anymore.
I remember thinking that it was rather inglorious, the way he pointed the block out to me by the tip of his axe. As if I hadn’t noticed it yet, hadn’t been staring at it the whole walk out there. That’s where it happens, I thought. You can trust that I had examined the whole scene thoroughly.
I don’t very often go on what one would consider to be traditional dates. The idea that I should meet a girl for an assessment before we decide to have sex with each other seems horribly inefficient, and more than a little insulting, to me, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Desperate is exactly what we are.
I have moved in directly across the street from an apartment I lived in eleven years ago, and it sort of feels as if my life has been reset to that point. I walk the streets here and get a fairly surreal sense of having lost time. I haven’t changed a lot since I was seventeen, and neither, it seems, has the city of New Westminster.
We are both, however, in the midst of extensive revitalization initiatives.
It should really be no secret that I am at least a little prone to this sort of proclamation, but no less am I, this time, sure that it’s right. I can’t — I won’t — ignore what’s inside of me.
I should just say it.
I am in love, simple and plain.
With my own ability to draw flowers HAHAHA YOU THOUGHT I ACTUALLY LIKED YOU