Lately, whenever I sit down to post something, I inevitably will feel that whatever I typed either sucks, is too personal, or that no one will care. I know what you’re thinking, so then I post a picture of a friend’s cat and think that it’s fucking brilliant, right? I know.
I’m going to try to stop thinking those things. Those thoughts are dead to me. A pox on their houses!
Oh shit, that would be my head.
More hair on their houses!
I’ve gotten into the habit of saving posts as drafts. Then, I fool myself into thinking that I’ll come back later and finish them. I have 26 unfinished drafts in my queue right now — one of which is titled “The Parrotheads have descended upon the quarter” and was first written in January of 2006.
From now on, I’m going go back to my old way of blogging, which was to post some inane piece of crap at 2am and then proceed to rewrite it for a week until it’s a completely different post, after being publicly humiliated by my sloppy grammar and poor word choice.
I will also try to stop rushing to put it away while contemplating my blog at the urinal. I keep peeing down my leg.
