So I originally wanted to start a blog apart from a website- something where I could get sumptuous hits and make a fat load of dough. As it turns out, that is not a financially plausible plan. Especially not for a blog. I don't have that many fans... hell, I don't even have that many friends on facebook or myspace. The majority are just acquantances who begrudgingly read some things I write if they're short enough- like a status update or a bulletin, and very few take the time to comment on it. Which is all fine and dandy, seeing as how I'm not doing this shit for attention or so boys and girls will flock to me lovingly and shower me with praise. Fuck praise. I'm in this because it's the only thing I want to do- I have ideals, I have messages, I have things to say... Just like everyone else. But for me, this is about all I know how to do, assuming I even know how to do it. Let's just say I'm learning. Writers are just train wrecks waiting to happen, cars crashing with broken airbags, and disaster lying impatiently around the corner. So maybe I'm just doing this for my sanity. Either way, writing everyday keeps the ghosts away. I've been working on a book... criticism has been harsh and plentiful, because apparently fiction means that everything has to be accurate to a fucking t. Pish posh. My book is a historical piece with modern elements, just because that's what I wanted it to be. It tells the story of a boy who questions his country and the role he was raised into. Sounds good? Yeah, well... If that catches you, maybe you'll want to get through the 250 pages I've written and the three hundred to come. That's right, it'll be longer than fuck, but I think it's got a chance to do well... a small niche who will make me a cult classic, or some other shit. Anyone can get into the writing business by making a piece of pulp bullshit that'll no doubt keep some housewife on the edge of her seat while she pretends she's the heroine or the damsel in distress- Yeah, well... that ain't my style. In fact, most writers don't have much of a style beyond that as far as my opinion goes. I'm here to shake shit up and I'm going to show up all the doubters and obstacles that've stood in my path. Hell, they're the reason I'm even going through with this shit. So where was I? Right, the financial failure that is blogging. This is a method of getting some words on the page to keep me afloat- therapy? Sure. I don't write much about anything... I'm not one of those bloggers who recalls the events of the day or anything like that. Well, not anymore. I was in high school... there's a livejournal that's a testament to all that. livejournal.com/neosephiroth You might need an invite to read some entries, but don't count on it. I haven't signed on that shit in years and only hit it up for a few memories which I still refuse to let go of. Even before then, I was doing it. ujournal.com/neosphiroth. I've probably got more blogs floating around the internet than I know what to do with. Shit on Facebook, Myspace, Gaia, Xanga, whatever blogging site you've never heard of before. I'm alright with that... One day, I'll go out of my way and compile it, and make a book about all that. It'll be the evolution of a writer, the perspective of some kid who went from being a timid introvert to this... whatever the hell this actually is. I'm sure I'll have a better idea in five or six years. So that's not to say I hate blogs or blogging but I sure as hell don't like it. "Dear journal, I had a crumby day. I feel better getting that out there." Fuck all that. And fuck all those, "Dear friends who read my journal. Do you remember earlier today when we went to see that shitty band? Yeah, that was so great!" Yeah, pish posh. This is just an exercise and maybe, just maybe, if something worth recording happens, I'll record it. Or I'll throw in a short story that I felt like writing for fun, like my last entry where I imagined getting fucked up by a bullet. Come to think of it, that could use some more editing. I'll probably keep you updated when I edit a piece like that. Otherwise, this whole thing will be a waste of your time... maybe. Maybe it'll bring you to some new conclusions or some deviant philosophical perspectives, but don't hold your breath.
This is my story, for chrissakes. I'll write it however I feel like it.
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