Tag Archives: blogging

Me, ranting opinions on my opinions

Ehhh, I don’t even think this counts as a poem. It’s just me venting again. It hurts to post! I should have a “hurts to post” category.

 

 


 

 

My own personality exhausts me.

I’ve had it up to here with myself.

I know all my tricks.

How can anyone give a shit what I’m saying?

Maybe I’m trying too hard.

No, that’s not right

Maybe I’m retrospecting too hard.

Blah blah blah all I have to offer are opinions

Ten day sale only! SO CHEAP SO FREE

If that doesn’t make you want them then try this on for size

Free baseball cap with my face stamped on it

Free t shirts also with my face

This one is of my cats, got a lot of merch related to that.

Merchandise. Mercenary. Merch. Merc.

Buy my shit

Take my shit free

What I’m selling

Is charisma

Long lasting brand

It’s guaranteed to smell up your living room

For a full six hours.

 

Haha… I have a Boring Complex

Is this why I write?

No… when I don’t write, this is the reason why

Because of my Boring Complex

This is why I write when I’m alone

This is why it’s hard to share my stuff

And the funny thing is I know I’m not boring

I’m super weird

But I still have this fear

Just like I know that the harness will catch my fall

But I’m still afraid to rock climb too high.

Phobias

Phobias are stupid.

There are so many things in life

Which are stupid.

 

I think I wore myself out yesterday trying to impress

I had my good poem posted and reposted and complimented and discussed

I was on my best behavior

I can be really good when I need to

But OH MY GOD I’m exhausted

New people, compliments, this and that

Let me put on my big fake face and say how I love their compliments

But I don’t love compliments

I am too crazy for that

I love them as people for making the compliments

I love their sweet intentions

I love that the poem touched them

But noooo compliments make me crazy

See? Look at me right now. Crazy.

 

I decided when I started this blog to be brutally honest

To practice who I am

My writer side which I always hid

My emotional side which frightens and confuses me

My opinionated side which risks being wrong

All the gooey parts.

 

So I got a few new followers

They’ve seen my magnum opus to date

I WILL disappoint

But if I’m not allowed to be a hack

The writing won’t be fun anymore.

 

Oh god I’m gonna make myself post this aren’t I.

Well, new followers. Consider yourself warned. Hopefully you enjoy the smell

 

 

 

Spam Folder Rundown

I realized I’ve been neglecting my Spam folder, and was pleased to discover a heap of nonsense messages. I can’t be the only person who finds spam, clickbait, etc, hilarious. Some of these messages were so confused I couldn’t even figure out what they wanted from me. Apparently I need a LOT of personalized handkerchiefs (I actually have a thing for handkerchiefs but I prefer to shop for them at places where they won’t steal my credit card number, thank you very much).

I also like clickbait. Scientifically engineered to trigger your curiosity. The perfect people-lure: curiosity killed the human. At the very least, curiosity slogged down the human’s computer with adware.

“Lose weight when this one weird trick!” Included with this intriguing caption is a picture of something confoundingly inapplicable to weight loss, like a hand holding a mysterious sea cucumbery seed pod, or a person shucking corn, or somebody slathering their toes with excessive gobs of Vaseline.

I am also fond of, “You won’t believe number 13!” The funny thing about this line is that it discredits the whole article, implying that number 13 is the only one worth reading, and even that isn’t going to be especially credible.

But I digress. Some of these comments take the element of mystery so far, I don’t even know what the hell they’re trying to say. I can tell they’re trying to flatter me but the English is an unnavigable maze.

“Its like you learn my thoughts! You seem to grasp a lot approximately this, like
you wrote the e-book in it or something. I feel that you just can do with some p.c.
to drive the message house a bit, but other than that, this is great blog.
A great read. I’ll definitely be back.”  *suspicious link*

If I were more politically correct I’d be a more effective writer? That might actually be good advice… should I be swearing less? This comment appeared on a repost by the way. I didn’t say a damn word, but I’m apparently such a master of that subject matter (namely nothing), I’m on equal footing with e-book authors. I’m honored and humbled to be included in that illustrious and exclusive crowd.

This one’s brilliant:

“An upright bicycle is not cardiovascular intensive. Exercise enthusiasts will consider the phenomenon of
a strength plateau. Purell hand sanitizer can really be a variety of sizes.” *suspicious link*

They covered so many bases, surely they must have hit a target somewhere? No?

How about this?

“Choose a topic in the neighborhood . very in-demand.
What advice does Leil offer for writers? “What you write has to be something which comes from the gut. Drink protein shake before exercise acquire enough vigour.”  *suspicious link*

They started off well but somehow it all keeps going back to physical fitness. If writing comes from the gut, it stands to reason that improving your gut health will improve your writing. Maybe if I drink more protein shakes I’ll be a better writer.  Who am I to argue with Leil?

This one’s actually cute:

“Garage floor tiles come in varied colors, designs,
and sizes. The dads can talk and make merry while barbecuing.
This creates a setting where people actually relate with each a few other.” *suspicious link*

I appreciate the adorable image of dads barbecuing and making merry. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to fill the garage with drunk dads and then light up a smokey grill in there, but maybe some people do it. That aside, it’s good to know that all the awkwardness and unrelatability between them will be fixed if I tile my garage floor.

I think this one is also trying to flatter me but it’s turned out deeply insulting:

“I simply needed to appreciate you once more. I’m not certain the things I could possibly have followed without these techniques contributed by you directly on such problem. Certainly was a traumatic dilemma in my position, however , finding out your specialized technique you processed that made me to jump for gladness. I’m happy for your help and then trust you find out what an amazing job your are getting into instructing the mediocre ones using your blog post. I am sure you haven’t got to know all of us.” *suspicious link*

I am truly impressed at this person’s ability to blather on without saying anything of substance. However, this was on my post Stupid Addictions, which was about being addicted to likes. It’s upsetting to imagine that this person was in a traumatic dilemma over being addicted to likes.

I guess my “specialized technique” to solve this traumatic dilemma was to put down my phone for the day. Please, please… don’t thank me. It’s my duty to instruct the mediocre ones. And you are correct, I certainly am too much of a dick to get to know all of you.

There you have it. Now we know a lot of things which we have never before dared to imagine.

Life without spam would be a safer life, but a less interesting one. Thank you spam.

Having Fun Yet?

I never realized how precious I was being about my writing
Until I started posting it.
I find myself thinking stupid stuff:
“If I post this, I can’t get it published.”
As if that’s something I’m likely to do
“If I post this, I can never use this idea again.”
Dear god, ideas are cheap
And recyclable.
“They won’t like this one.”
They’re free to react as they please
I’ll survive it.

They’re just excuses to be fearful.
Hiding your writing is no fun
Just like hiding your drawings is no fun.
And it should be fun
If it’s not fun
Then why the hell are you doing it?

Lately I’ve been working on finding the fun
In my art, in my writings
If I’m not having fun, I’m blocked.
The blog has also taught me that if I am having fun
I get better without even realizing it.
But I love saddling my fun carefree creations
With heavy responsibility
Like a disappointed parent
I crush them before they’re even formed
With the things that I hope they will do for me.

Stupid Addictions

I promised honesty. The following is something between a poem and a journal; it’s how I sort out my thoughts. I have pages of this type of thing stashed away, little mental snapshots of who I was that day.

Don’t be fooled when you read it: it sounds like I’m hugely popular. Really I’ve only had a handful of likes and it’s already breaking me! I find myself getting obsessive, checking back, checking back again. I do the same thing with Facebook. Microrewards for each action (e.g. ooh, another like!) are causing my brain to spiral into an obsessive loop. Aren’t humans crazy? I think I’ll take a break for the rest of the day.

 

A nectarine in my palm

The smell is sweet, sour, tangy, floral

It makes my mouth fill with anticipation

The skin is soft; like human skin

Cool to touch

Heavy with moisture

A baby tree inside

It’s so alive

I want to bite it

Oh how I want to bite it

Take its life for my own

Every act we make

Is an act of destruction

There is no peace

 

This blog is already breaking my tao

What a fragile thing peace of mind is

Likes and follows haunt me

Opinions like a hurricane

And I find myself thinking,

Is this good enough

Can I please them?

 

I’ve got to get it out of me

I can find my peace again

I can blog and find my peace

It’s a level up

Not worrying about notoriety is easy when you’re unknown

It’s easy to be vulnerable

Where no one can see you

I can’t hide

If I hide I go backwards

I must maintain stability of mind

I must remain empty

Because when you let yourself fill up

You are no longer useful