Coffee thoughts

I’m sitting here in my underwear wondering why cheetahs and the name of the snack is so fucking hard to spell. Maybe I’m lazy? I could be lazy.

Either that or I just don’t want to pay attention to what I’m saying anymore. i’m seeing a therapist because recently, I tried to hang myself. I know, shocking, right? Actually, it is in a way.

I’m too bored at the moment to go through the whole process of reliving that shit, so I’ll just link the tweet thread at the end of the post. I drank a cup of coffee at the moment, so nothing I’m saying actually makes much sense. But i don’t think it’s supposed to, maybe i’m trying to be more than I want to be at the moment, but i really need to get back into the whole blogging thing. I love the stats of seeing how many people read my stuff, all across the country and all that, but I gave up trying to keep up with the times or what’s trending, because than I just lose the point of writing the blog.

which is to just keep my thoughts out of my head, and into your heart. or some strange fucking bullshit like that. I dunno, recently i’ve just been at a loss for words because of what I put myself though that it just seems pointless trying to find the right audience. Maybe there isn’t one? Maybe I just don’t know how to run a blog? Or maybe I’ve found the right audience, but at the same time, my skills at marketing it are kind of shit?
I really don’t know. the most important question I have at this point is why the moldy fat bridge troll Rudy Fuckedhisaunty thinks that the Truth isn’t the Truth, when in fact, the Truth, is the Truth. I’d like to punch him.

I don’t care if he’s a lawyer, or former 9/11 superhero, guys a fucknut, and I challenge him to a fist fight. i’d kick his ass. He knows it, I knows it, and now i’m speaking like Popeye, because fuck proper spelling at this point. Do you know how many hamster i’d like to fire out of a minigun?
Me neither, because I don’t have a gun license, a minigun, or a bullet belt with tiny enough hamsters to find out the answer to that very disturbing question.

I could be looking at a mirror, but then how would I write on the keyboard? this blog is a mystery. Some points are constant, others are just fuckled mysteries that need more explaining than people are will to put forth. though I don’t dare claim to be a great blogger, I’m just putting my thoughts out there, a Gonzo blogger if you will. there’s no hard hitting truth, no mystery of the universe 3, just one asshole, a cup of coffee and a wifi connection that’d make you wonder if there’s anything in my head worth wringing out… Because thought drops are shit enough without the proper things.

Maybe I just wanted to write something, I’ve been out of the loop, and as much as I want to rag on Trump for this or that, I just don’t have it in me anymore. Yeah, I could put more energy into my posts, add a picture or two, but really? i’m a lazy blogger, my entries are what they are, and despite all my efforts to try and cultivate an audience, my thoughts are kind of flat and boring. Do I let you into my life and get yelled at for it by my controlling parents or do I just dance around the topics that are long bothering me and leave you more disappointed than a hooker hired by a club of ED sufferers?

Okay, that one was pretty good. Sometimes I don’t get it, I try to make myself interesting in some fashion, it works out for a while, and then I get bored with it. Why? What’s the point?  Is there some greater purpose i’m supposed to be serving? Do I just go slowly insane talking to myself for weeks on end, gibbering in a strange language that only I and the shadows in a well lit room understand? Or am I just getting older with the knowledge that no matter what I try? My own futile attempts at some form of relevancy or just enough to make someone laugh for half a second before turning to something more interesting?

Maybe i need to get drunk off my ass again and write from that standpoint. I’ve been a bit angry at nothing for a while. Powder room with no lit fuse or something. Something to focus my energies on, something to grasp at straws. I’m good at being despondent, annoyed by things out of my mental grasp, and just in general, being a massive asshole to people on twitter, or maybe I’m not a massive asshole on twitter… maybe I’m just me, not fully grasping the nuances of comedy as as write this in the voice of a fucking noncy wine consumer.

Don’t know. Don’t care. Bored. I need to do something with my life….

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