Eskimo

Edit: I’m leaving the fucking typos intact. Go fuck a slug.

Don’t ask me why it’s titled this, it’s the first word I could think of.

I’m going to sit here and empty my brain of things because right now it’s full of them. Most of it will not make sense and I’m quite sure that when I find this months later I will mock myself repeatedly for doing it. Quite frankly, I do not care.

Just so everyone understands how this is working right now: I’m writing with my eyes shut. It’s the closest thing I can do to removing all distractions. I’m a fucking ADD kid, I really am. I see something shiny or blue or blinking or curious and I will click on it and explore for hours on end while absolutely forgetting what I was here to do. This process becomes absolutely tiresome after awhile and I wind up yeling at myself for 20 minutes as if I were some kind of boss and I was also the employee. That sentence made little sense. I know.

I took a few minutes to open my eyes. What I saw was pretty dull. The door’s open because there’s no air conditioning in the tiny bedroom that I happen to live in, so I have to stick multiple fans in my door. It’s an annoying loss of privacy. Not that it matters much, i figure that anyone who happens to see me in this state will suffer far more than I will. I’m not the type to get embarrassed easily.

I just had a thought: I talk about myself a lot. I was going to go on a tirade on how annoying that is but then I remembered: this is my fucking website, I’m supposed to talk about myself. I mean yeah, I can ramble on about random technology I find, but I established a different website for that that’s even less read than this one is.

Talking about myself is pretty much all I do here. I do this thing where I flipflop between “lol angry” and “I’m going to get all weird and introspective.”

The door handle just fell off the bathroom door. That’s just wonderful.

I’m not about to prattle on about how I’m “oh so interesting and deep” because I happen to get introspective. I’m not. I’m the farthest thing from a truly interesting person. I figure interesting people are people who’ve climbed a mountain or killed a buffalo with their bare hands or something. What the fuck do I have to talk about? The fact that I stubbed my toe while avoiding Daisy? I like a girl? I ate a hamburger today that almost made me vomit uncontrollably? I find rape jokes funny?

Wait, I’ve said that twice in a week. I need to not do that.

Subtlety is key and I suck at it. Don’t ask me why I said that line. I haven’t the foggiest clue.

Now here’s a big question: do I bother publishing this? Do I bother explaining why I wrote this complete and utter mess? Hell, I’m not nearly satisfied, I’m not done emptying my head. The problem is if I sat around and -truly- tried to empty my head I’d be sitting here all night. I’d look like a fat zombie from 28 Days Later, except without the annoying British accent and broken buck-teeth.

Yeah, I threw in a zombie reference. It was unwarranted and didn’t flow with the rest of the sentence. It was also about as funny as one of the rape jokes I find humorous.

I’m going to hit ‘publish’ now.