This damn blog has represented a roller coaster of manners of expression over the 5 years it’s been “on.”
I notice that I’ve been decidedly less autobiographical in the past couple of years. There was a time I spend nearly half my posts embarking on random personal tidbits concerning my self-maligned life and all the Charlie Brown bullshit that plagued my insignificance.
Then I started spouting angry stuff.
Posts became cathartic vehicles of spiritual cleanse.
Lately, I have no idea what theme I can use to summarize my written behavior. This blogger is aimless and no longer personally involved to the degree that the blog even represents him. I come here and shout and exclaim and verbally gesticulate with chaotic passion, but sometimes I wonder…where the fuck am I?
Am I even the one writing?
I’ve never maintained a singular focus and that is the recipe for insignificance. I’m not very social, in life or in the cybersphere. I don’t cozy up and I find many comment threads across most blogs intolerable because of the commenters’ inexhaustible recitations of arcane bullshit that strikes me as the attention-starved ramblings of shut-ins who just want to hear themselves type. I’m not a joiner in any respect. I don’t play well with others, digitally or not.
I am putting together a new blog project and at first I thought it would be faintly tethered to this Socially Extinct persona, but now I’m having second thoughts about that. It could very well be that my new blog will be completely anonymous. I guarantee and promise this: it will be a drastic departure in the respect it will be very Aspie and emotionally disconnected and will have nothing to do with politics or the gender wars or class warfare…but, perhaps, it may. A tiger cannot change his stripes…
In this vein, it’s been a while since I took the personal route here, and in the past few months I’ve grown a new facial pattern, my infamous loose dental cap finally fell into the drain, and I bought some really large sunglasses at Target a few weeks ago.
I’m cutting a new swath of doucheness and I don’t give a flying fuck.
I don’t mind anonymity, but if this secret castle were to suddenly crumble, oh well, what can I do?
The most liberating thing about growing “older” is the fact I just do NOT CARE about things like I used to. I read all the younger dudes in this blogosphere worried about women and career and status and I laugh and think “fuck that shit.” That was me then. Not anymore. I’m a modern urban ascetic. I feel disconnected from all the egos that populate my world. I have nothing in common with anybody. I’m so alienated from common hang-ups, but people don’t get it because they are only capable of imprinting their own world upon yours while defining your shortcomings as personal failures on their part, and they react thus.
It’s a massive sense of solipsism, one of the greatest upper mind traits of the human animal.
This is not a farewell, it’s a countdown to slow dissolution.