technobang

I was going to write an update about driving and it fizzled out of my head almost instantly. I’ll sum it up in a few quick sentences:

Women cannot drive. Ever. Apparently having a vagina removes any ability coexist with something that goes faster than 20 miles per hour.

Chicago drivers are way too angry when behind the wheel. I’m always curious to see what important event you two-bit cunts have to get to in such a hurry. What, you don’t mind if I take 2 seconds to hit the gas after—okay, I’ve lost all desire to write about driving. It tends to happen when she looks at me; I’ll be pissy about something, even if it’s faux anger, and it’ll just fade almost immediately. It might cause the end of this website, honestly, because even though I do occasionally have little spurts of my faux anger, I really can’t pull off one of my fantastically angry updates anymore.

Being angry requires a certain mindset that I really don’t possess anymore. It’s like trying to beat up a baby seal—fundamentally they piss me off, however they look just so damned CUTE!

I would however trip a baby seal down a flight of stairs, should the opportunity arise.

Previously I’ve not updated my website because I haven’t had the drive. I would look at this place with disdain and call it names and probably racial epithets (which frankly make no sense: this website is -clearly- white.)

I’m sitting here trying to figure out how to organize the jumble of thoughts in my head. It’s a struggle nowadays, because my thoughts tend to turn more into feelings and images rather than my usual cold and logical words.

I no longer lay around and contemplate the universe. I’ve found my seating in the universe I once struggled to understand.

I no longer dwell on everything that’s gone wrong in life. To be fair, I didn’t really before, however these days the thoughts never cross my mind.

I had spent years emulating emotions that I should’ve felt; no longer. I feel complete. I feel.

I don’t know how to end this so I’ll just kind of float away on this cloud I’ve been riding.

EDIT: Really fatass? REALLY? You feel, seriously? I can’t believe I wrote this. I look at this and want to find this scumbag and just take a huge steamer on his chest because this is the most god-awful contrite crap I’ve read, and I WAS THE ONE WHO WROTE IT. Expect more editorials on my own idiocy, and I’ll leave it all up for all to see. I have no problem looking like an idiot.

EDIT 2: Writing updates for, to, about, or because of women is the absolute worst thing I ever could have done. I try to be this sappy romantic dipass when in reality I’m just not there, so when the relationship fizzles (and future ladies, it will fizzle, they all fizzle, unless it doesn’t then I’m wrong) I look back on it and feel really stupid. Point and case, future ladies: I’m never writing about you on this website, ever. Take your feelings and shove it. Don’t cry about it either, I’ll get annoyed.

Posted on Saturday, June 7th, 2008 at 11:27 pm in Whatever | rss feed for comments| Leave a response, or trackback