I should blog more. But thanks to my ingenuity to find reasons not to, I manage splendidly to cultivate idleness and become quite liverish about it, telling some noisy drunk to shut his foul mouth up or I’ll kick him senseless off the jeep, and beggars to screw themselves some more.
But I’ve done a fair job writing for other people to pay my rent and put food on the table. Some pleasant writing for my day job in a call center company, and some more pleasant writing for a couple of freelance gigs.
Yet again blogging is different. It’s more than just stringing words, and making them readable and pleasant to people reading on the internet. Blogging allows you the luxury to write the kind of thing you want to read, or the kind of writing not trying to please people, but yourself, and hopefully provide some entertainment to random souls stumbling upon your blog, or at least fuck some minds and eyeballs, or maybe learn new ways to fuck minds and eyeballs.
That’s what I missed about blogging.
So what I’ve been up to these days aside from making an honest living and feeling guilty for not updating this blog? Well, reading up old and new authors – William Saroyan (Here Comes, There Goes, You Know Who), Joseph Heller (Now & Then), Ernest Hemingway (To Have and Have Not), Raymond Chandler (The Big Sleep), blokes like them. Listening to old albums of Sting, Talking Heads, Kenney Chesney, their sort of music. Also watching films like Dreams with Sharp Teeth, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, This Is Spinal Tap, and my hoarded collection of Dean Martin Roasts.
You get the picture.
Now all these things while juggling freelance writing jobs, appearing in the office for work Monday to Friday like any honest man, and planning to set up some nice online biz as if all those things mentioned above aren’t enough.
And I love every minute of it, every single fucking minute!