I’m not one for heartfelt feel-good posts. I seek neither to pander nor motivate, to gee-up nor inspire. If you read my post do not expect any of those things. Indeed, expect nothing less than a bitter diatribe or two chased down with a whinge. If you’re lucky (and I have become complacent in my role as embodiment of misanthropy) then I may unintentionally make you feel better because you are not as downright grumpy as me. But know it is a lie, like the supposed ‘fact’ that people still believe Marmite is a ‘like it or love it’ thing. It’s not. It’s just a fucking spread. I am apathetic to the point of inadequacy on the subject. Meh.
The path this blog has taken through the gentle tundra of my irascibility has been a surprising one.
See, that’s what I’m talking about. The line above. What a load of tosh. Why is it that my mind churns out such flange-muffery when asked to write a post? If I can’t rely on my barely conscious mind to adequately post something meaningful and sparkly on request, then what is the point? Why have the thing? Right now my mind is a third nipple – all very impressive but unlikely to write a good post that won’t drive you to sack it all off and light a joss stick.
But I let it splurge precisely because one must vent. Like a cheap and inadequately maintained steam-engine. Precisely like that. And you read it because it exists, even though it’s entire existence is owed to the selfish necessity for a bloody valve. All pointless to the point of blunt. And that makes you a voyeur, or at the very least a person-that’s-reading-my-post….
Honestly? Nah, I haven’t a clue what the point of this post is, other than to prove I can write one without wanting to and with minimal effort. If you wanted clarity you may have been disappointed.
Saying all that, be nice to everyone, polite and pleasantly engaging in all circumstances, then trust in humanity to hold up its end. That way lies the future. Peace!