As disorganized as I am, as much as I fly by the seat of my pants, as much as I really don't give a shit about so many, many things (how come someone that's generally apathetic isn't called an apath, along the same lines that an empath is called that for empathizing?), including 'bad language', I feel my entry to the PF Blogs is past due.
That is, not because I'm a blogger and have oh-so-much thrilling shit to share with everyone but... I'm often misunderstood for my foul attitude toward humanity, in general, my serious contempt for all things taken too seriously, my stubborn refusal to view the world through ANYONE'S rose-colored glasses, my creative use of the English language and, last but not least, the ever-present profanity and my grumpy demeanor.
Really, I'm not always cranky. I'm not always in pain. I'm not always bitching about some fuckin' thing that pissed me off. Sometimes I sleep. But not for long... usually.
Usually, I can be found on here, facebook, or on WoW, if I'm actually on the computer. Contrary to this 3 foot umbilical, here, I actually dislike computers. I prefer old movies, good books and life outdoors. I need music in my life, regardless. That's not a preference; that's a must. Interesting, then, that, to me, birdsong counts as music, yes? Meh. I digress.
I do that a lot. Progress seems to be an accident, for me. I digress by nature, by habit and by desire. It probably stems from all them drugs I did back in the 70's and 80's. So... yeah: this is rambling. The ramblings of a raving lunatic! One that's heavily medicated for everyone's protection. The harmless, toothless 'softie', of a grumpy old man.
Stay tuned...
I'm sure people are looking forward to more of my tirades, glimpses into this rabbit warren, this 'rat maze' I call a mind. I don't really think I have a unique outlook on life, the world or it's inhabitants. I certainly know for sure that I am not alone in my contempt for the bullshit we face, and are forcefed, at every turn. I'm also positive that I have company, in these bleachers, watching the outrageous behavior of fellow humans.
Maybe it's how I express it, how I mangle the English language, to describe what I see, feel and think. Maybe it's the turn of phrase that I use, when I'm tearing into some idiot, some rusted door hinge, that is competing for a Darwin Award. It could be the contradictions that I possess and express, such as cheering for the comet in the crash at the end of humanity. Might even be the twisted humor that gets people interested in the words I puke up.
I just know that I need to be posting in my Blog. People are waiting.