Writing again for obligation.
This is going to be a journal entry, better yet a treaty made for my peace of mind.
Blogging is very whatever. The fun thing about blogging is how it creepily sneaks in this obligatory connotation that you should be read. That’s never been in objective for me. I prefer to go one further and subjugate my readers to a posthumous narcissism, in my implication that I will be read perhaps after my death, or maybe I’ll be rediscovered or something really stupid. Regardless, I prefer the long view because while you read this and while I write, I have the time to fuck you slow. Hahaha
While I’m joking, it’s very fun to hope that someone reading this might turn away in disgust, or might laugh with me, or some portion of these ramblings will inject themselves into your subconscious and express themselves in the real world involuntarily. Furthermore, the great thing about the anvil I’m hammering at is the idea of character study. In so far the entry can be wielded as an exaggeration of one faculty of my personality, a personality created should be a personality enjoyable. I read in one of the recent poems of Yarvin, who expressed that while this yammering on might be categorized as a dull shard of iron, it is not a shard of iron you want to be stabbed with.
And ultimately that is the fun of it.
There is the expectation that these posts should polished or poesied by carefully fabricated yarns. In reality, these posts more closely resemble a half-finished scarf knitted by a seamstress who abandoned it halfway through. And if one day, if I am narcissistically justified, and that any pair of eyes comes searching to read this, I am hopeful that one might trip on this half knit article, left on the ground in a dark room, and perchance hit his head on the sharp corner of a coffee table (literarily).
And if not whatever. Life is fun.