technobang

I’ve been listening to slow jazz. I like it.

I have, for some time, been needing to mellow out. I’ve been needing a break from the normal, because I don’t know where I’m going with this. I figure maybe if I close my eyes and start writing things maybe something brilliant and beautiful and unexpected will flow out like butter after being in a microwave for far, far too long.

No such luck.

So I’ve decided to write this entire thin with my eyes closed. I can feel typos, it’s as if the keys and my brain are actually linked through something beyond the five appendages on my hands called fingers. Is that insightful?

Probably not.

I’ve had little to talk about on the technical side of things. I played with more iPhones, I was singularly unimpressed. I played with more people’s broken shit, I was further unimpressed. I tried jamming out to german death metal while at an old lady’s house, that only turned out to be a larger mess than it should be.

Here’s a technical problem I can’t seem to solve: who designed the keyboard for my laptop? I can never seem to hit the G key correctly. For some reason every time I hit it, the computer refuses to see the input. Do you think my computer has some kind of social or mental impediment? Are my fingers defective? Should I return them?

Don’t let the title of this blurb of nothing confuse you. I’m not saying goodbye to this website, it’s actually the title of a song I happen to be listening to while splurging out this soup of stupid.

That’s not insightful either, is it?

I’ve noticed that almost all of my humor is self-deprecating. I’d fix that, but I’m too fucking fat. Bahahahahaha!

See what I mean? That’s self-deprecating. I really should stop that. I think maybe if I turn myself upside down maybe I’ll become less fat, I’ll just kind of hang off the ceiling like a flabby bat waiting to pounce upon the next man who walks through the door and feast upon his innards. I hope his innards are made of spaghetti, I feel like italian.

Should I capitalize italian? I don’t think I will. Fuck italy. That’s right italy, you don’t get caps.

I’ve been searching my brain for days for something meaningful to put up here. I have been without this website for days, and I itched and longed and waited to update this. This website is like my textual lover, it’s kind of strange in a way. I dump whatever things annoys me on here and occasionally someone might come along and read them. However I’ve had so little to be angry about.

I started doing this internet website chatting bullshit a few weeks back. I actually connected with people. It’s somewhat awkward, considering how often I go on about how most people on the internet are these utterly intelligent nothings that waste my time and energy. And for the most part, it’s true. But yet on a daily basis I’m drawn to them, I can’t explain it. I think maybe I’ve finally gone off the deep end, dove back into the pool of part insanity and part urine and ended up somewhere spectacular and depressing at the same time. I mean, really, I do fit into the cliche of “scary fat computer geek sitting on the internet.”

Should I take a vacation from being the fat guy? Maybe I should be the deep intellectual guy who says profound things in the middle of a coffee shop while drinking a vanilla latte and spanking it to awful Indie music.

Nah. The pants wouldn’t fit.

And then I opened my eyes and saw what horrible things I wrote.

I think I’m trying to reach this level of sensory deprivation, likely due to my growing insomnia which is, in turn, leading toward my growing insanity. I think my writing flowed better when I wasn’t doing it with my eyes open. Perhaps I’ll just continue this trend from here on out.

Anyway, yes. Insomnia. I’ve been unable to sleep until later and later in the night. At this point, I must wait until 3:00 AM to sleep. It’s not a matter of want, actually, it’s a matter of inability – my mind won’t shut the fuck up until 3:00 AM. I conceptualize, fantasize, rearrange and disassemble in my head. I think my brain has actually comprehended the universe and isn’t sharing it with the rest of my body, but I honestly couldn’t be sure because it’s talking in a foreign language unknown to all but the most brilliant of the brilliant. And let’s face it, the most brilliant people we know are actually from Cygnoid.

Where’s Cygnoid? Up your ass.

I’ve used tricks in the past to keep my mind from keeping me awake. I used to listen to music, play TV, think about simple and mundane things that would even bore abstinent Amish teenagers on a Friday night. Regrettably, after it’s all said and done, nothing comes of it. I lay awake and contemplate the universe. I contemplate my friends, I wonder and worry and cry and laugh. None of it out loud, of course, it’s all contained within the 8 dimensional confines of my brain.

I really hate my brain. If any of you want a brain, please call me immediately. A frontal lobotomy is requested, desired, and preferred.