Thursday, January 31

:.      at a certain point you gotta find out if you're the only one animating the puppet. and the only way to find out is to pull your hand out of the puppet's ass and see if it falls to the floor.



:.      dear god knows who:

     if you're going to listen to only one fresh air segment about blogs, then this is the one to listen to.

     i'm still trying to define the scope of this public journaling. i guess it'll just end up being the sum of its content, just the way that anything else, however well designed, ends up being. but there's a process involved in filtering the random flotsam and jetsam that fills my head, and at this point i still have to manually pick and choose, or refuse to choose, as i'm doing now, stalling with crap like this. religion? nah, too pretentious too early. music? nah, too personal, too alienating. poetry? nah, too stupid. women? nah, too cliche too often. the terrible 'too's: every subject is too much something or other. i want an audience (no fool goes through the trouble of setting up a blogger.com account and writing up html just for the convenience of keeping a private journal) and that means i have to appeal to one. and blog knows what the venn diagram, of what you want to read and what i want to write, looks like. so hopefully i can distract myself with this verbage long enough to have non-self-conscious entries slip through.

     i will add one stupid tautology to this entry, just to test the waters. you know, see how it feels. who knows? it might be me, after all.

friends kick ass and make this mess a whole lot easier to bear, and i really don't understand why they make so few of them when they're so goddamn useful. who put this place together, anyway? why do i have to think of everything?





Wednesday, January 30

:.      posting conversations with people seems to a popular blogging thing to do, so here's one i had today:



friend: I doubt your batting average is as bad as you think.
friend: It's the times at bat that's critical.

cynischism: yeah. that's my problem.
cynischism: my batting average is excellent.
cynischism: i'm a sniper.
cynischism: with a 1 year reload rate.

friend: heh heh...you go killa

cynischism: i'm playing hungry hippo the wrong way.

friend: heh heh...picking your shots?

cynischism: yes.
cynischism: you end up losing the game.

friend: heh heh...

cynischism: i think that'll be my blog tonight.

friend: no one wants to read even more bitter blogs.
friend: Happy Blogs!

cynischism: a brown blog cant be happy

friend: it can be mellow.

cynischism: no. yellow is mellow.

friend: kinda a dark mellow yellow

cynischism: REALLY dark..

friend: subdued and mellow!
friend: alright, I give up...can't change the color after all.

cynischism: that's all i got: the color.

friend: a guitar and the truth?

cynischism: no guitar.

friend: good point.



Tuesday, January 29

:.      wow. there's a whole world of blogs out there (here's a good start if you're ignorant, as i was). this is most discouraging. but i will persist, because while other digerati have chosen to exhibit some portion of their lives on this world wide web, only with more time and dedication, better writing skills, sharper wits and flashier graphics, and have already written every notable piece of insight about being a twentysomething in the modern era, no one has done it in light brown text against a dark brown background, which means that i, too, can be first at something. (and if they have, i don't want to know about it just yet.)

     i'm not quite sure what i expect of this, or what i intend to achieve, or whether anyone will read this dreck, but i guess that's what makes it so damned exciting, for you and me alike, eh? while i'm much more of a 'photographer' than i'll ever be a 'writer', it turns out (i'm still in the process of this discovery, so please be patient) that sentences are a whole lot easier to create than photographs, and while i would never post a picture i wasn't completely satisfied with, i'm more than happy to lay down text as trite, gaudy, and obtuse as oil pipes strewn through a national park. so this just might work out fine, eh? stay tuned...



Friday, January 25

:. templates are ok. mostly.



Wednesday, January 23

:. html is a painful mess.



Tuesday, January 22

:. into html i am born.