Tuesday, October 30, 2012

A bit of a rant

Due to the number of political ads on my blog, I have decided to block them, as well as a number of other categories that I feel do not represent me and my points of view.  I don't want the ads on my site to misrepresent me, and I don't want people to believe I support a certain candidate that I in fact don't.  If you don't know me well enough to know my political affiliations...  Then you should read my posts a little more carefully.

I will say that I have been a registered Democrat my entire adult life, more due to my philosophical beliefs than to loyalty to any individual candidate or, for that matter, the party itself.  For that reason, in particular, I will not openly support either of the major candidates, because I don't feel that either one really represents me, nor do I believe that my representatives or senators represent me, or the vast majority of people, either.  These people are nothing but frauds, taking money from wealthy private donors and forsaking all the rest of us.  If they truly wanted to do what was right, then people would have equal access to healthcare, but, if you're poor, then you're probably going to die of cancer or heart disease -- that is if the global financial market doesn't collapse and we don't all die in some kind of nuclear holocaust.  Artisans and small-business entrepreneurs are drowning.  More and more people have to rely on large, humorless corporate big brothers for work.

Quite frankly, if I didn't feel it was my civic duty, I wouldn't vote at all.  Again I will be voting for the lesser of two evils, even though I am certain neither candidate, even the one I am voting for, even give a damn about me and whether I succeed or fail.  Other than my small circle of family and friends, my wife, I am alone.  We are all alone in that way, unless you happen to be related to someone or know someone.  And I am not just talking about anyone.  That's why I am more focused on getting an education than making money.  One will always have value, the other, on the other hand, doesn't have sustainable value.

Anyway, that's why I try to not write directly about this sort of stuff, because it's damn depressing.  I would rather think about and focus on the things that truly matter in life, spending time with those you love, doing those things you love, and letting the world go to Hell, like it inevitably will because most people are too ignorant or weak or distracted (like me) or some combination of the three, to stand up and force the people who are in power to do what is right and actually represent the people and not just the people who have most of the money.

I might have contradicted myself at some point there, but I don't care.  Can anyone blame me for feeling angry and powerless at the same time?  Can anyone blame me for not feeling like I have any kind of public voice that any politician that has any authority will even recognize as legitimate, because I can't afford to donate to any campaign?

No.  I will focus on my wife, on my friends and family, on my school, my writing, my music...Because these are the people and the activities that make my life worth living, and I won't take them for granted.  The "leaders" of this country, on the other hand, took most of us for granted a long time ago.  That's why I will not advertise for them, I won't even mention them by name, and I definitely will not campaign for them.

Monday, October 29, 2012

Facing the Facts

As it came time to register for classes, and I was unable to get into any of the core classes for the composition track (due to the fact that, even though I registered the exact first minute I was able, the only core class being offered was already full), it caused me to seriously question the direction I was heading.  Where in composition I would be focusing on composition theory and linguistics and how to teach composition -- which would culminate in me applying this knowledge in studying the language of propaganda or perhaps language on the Internet, which were my two areas of interest and my reasoning for going into composition -- in literature I could apply my knowledge of language and my love of reading to studying the work of one of my favorite authors, Kurt Vonnegut, which could ultimately lead to me teaching a subversive lit class someday, which would be a dream come true.

 If not Vonnegut, I am a huge Orwell fan, I can't get enough of Fitzgerald, I have an obsession with the book The Man Who Loved Children by Christina Stead, I can't understand why John Updike isn't discussed more, and I have a growing interest in Melville. Not to mention the fact that I am obsessed with writing fiction, I am trying to finish editing my first novel, and I have at least four or five other legitimate novel ideas, one of which is slowly in progress through the process of brainstorming and story development.  Taking all of these factors with the fact that, as I was not able to get into any of the core Composition courses, probably setting my graduation date back -- which is the last thing that I want to do as a 30-year-old college student -- with the fact that I was able to take two of the four core courses for Literature (Chaucer and Shakespeare, respectively), and I am taking one this semester (Modern Linguistics), and I was also able to sign up to meet one of the American Lit requirements (Melville...Kickass!), making it possible for me to write a thesis and still graduate by Spring 2014, it only makes sense for me to change.

If I am going to change, it has to be now, in my first semester, where it will not impact me.  I am glad that I have taken the classes that I have taken this semester, for it has helped me considered the language more than I ever would have on my own.  This will only help me.  I just feel like -- and this is the hippy in me, sure -- the universe is pointing me in the direction I should be going.  Choosing a career path is the same as finding true love and making the relationship work, it should not go against logic, it is not an uphill path through the bleak and unrelenting wilderness, but more-so akin to traveling through a desert your entire life and suddenly coming upon paradise.

Either way I am sticking with grad school and trying to do my best so that I can get into a good PhD program.  It's ironic then, that one of my undergrad professors at Kent, one of my favorites in fact, Dr. Berardinelli, had assumed without even asking, from the papers I had been writing, that I was planning on going into a PhD program for Lit.  At the time I was seriously considering going into an MFA program for creative writing.  By my last semester of undergrad I had decided to take a more "practical route", which, in hindsight, wasn't very practical after all.

Now, if only I could focus and finish this proposal that's due later today, I would be in good shape.  I was hoping to have it done by now.  I have a good idea, but I am still trying to figure out how to go about it.  I am not worried, I have a few tricks left up my sleeve, to use a cliche.

While Kurt Vonnegut, and other postmodernists, didn't believe in an essential truth, I feel compelled to believe since in making this decision, like all other decisions in my life that I have based on such, what seem at the time, impulses, I feel at home and at peace with my decision.

I also sent in my application to be a peer tutor next semester.  It seems like a natural progression, a way for me to use my knowledge to help others, a step forward into teaching, which will hopefully also help me get a TA position for next year.

Time to kick my brain into high gear and get the ball rolling on this assignment.  May the force be with you.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Letting Go

I didn't even want to go.  It's not that I don't having a good time or hanging out with my friends, but lately I barely have time to myself.

Sometimes when you get so caught in the repetition of life, do this, do that, make ends meet, work toward the future...Life.  Not that I am complaining.  I really like my life.  I am in such a great place right now.  I love my wife, I am excited about school and enjoy the work that I do---I only wish I had more time to do it.

Time is the most valuable commodity on Earth.  Fuck money and precious metals and all that shit.  It's time that keeps this world spinning.  It's not the almighty dollar.  Working day in and day out in low-wage slave labor.  That's not the point of life.  I am not a pawn in someone else's scheme to make money.

So last night I just... Let go.

We were the first ones to the bars -- The Incredible Hulk, a football player from Chelsea, T-Rex, Buzz Lightyear, Wayne, and me, Garth.  Woody and Jessie came later.

Wayne just passed the bar, so he and I started with a Jameson shot.  Every place we went we had a shot, in addition to the shots with the rest of the group, and beer---God bless it!

As the night progressed, more and more people came out.  We hopped bars, met Kermit the Frog, who is mentally deranged, and Scooby Doo, who publicly raped Kermit, and a flasher, who kept trying to expose himself to T-Rex.

Drinks, drinks, drinks, cigarettes, new bar, more drinks, drinks, drinks...

A blur of motion and bodies pressed together, the loud thumping of bass, lasers and the flash flash flash flash flash of a strobe light.  I found myself dancing with Buzz Lightyear.

That's when it happened.  When it all disappeared, when nothing mattered but the moment.  I found myself floating along the current.

The current carried us through the night.

Our van cab never arrived and instead of being dragged under and forced by gravity to the depths, we ended up taking a limo for the same price that the cab would have cost.

I arrived on the other side of the shore, at home, where the current carried us, and the transition to solid ground was more than my system could bear.  All of the stress came purging out.


I woke up this afternoon, enlightened.  Whatever stresses were gone, were profoundly gone, and I could see the path ahead of me with clarity.  Everything happens for a reason.  I have been reset; I can see what's important: my wife, my friends, my school, my stories...

Whatever else I have to do to make ends meet on top of my loans, well...You'll get what you pay for and nothing more.

Friday, October 26, 2012

It's Official [the domain name event of the century (for me)]

Well, you might have already noticed, but, in case you haven't, I have finally shelled out the $10 to Google and bought my own domain name.  That's right folks, www.gabegott.com now exists.  I'll pause a moment so you can reflect on that fine tidbit of information...

Needless to say I think I handle the cost of $10 a year.  I think it will help increase traffic, but we'll see if that's really true or not.  Either way, I like the sound of it.  I am really looking to the future, forging down the path I have created for myself, leaving no stone un-turned along the way.


I really like the sound of it.  It's very...official.  It's nice to feel official, even if it is only an illusion.  Maybe it's not.  I don't know.  I don't expect actual legitimacy to just happen, it's something that will take continued effort and building upon what ideas work, coming up with new ideas, and keeping forging ahead.

Somehow, even though, in truth, nothing has really changed beyond the surface, I feel like it opens up many more opportunities.  I don't plan on doing anything different except that which I can do better differently.  I am going to continue building my audience.

Maybe one thing I can do is add more substance to my writing, but sometimes it's fun to go on little escapes into weirdness.  Maybe this is more of an escape into weirdness with little tidbits of substance here and there.  I would be happy with it either way.  Of course that is all subjective, so it's not something I can really decide except for myself.  What is weird to some is normal to others.  Like having a third testicle.  Or less than ten toes.  Or more than ten fingers.  Or words like glilp.  I personally feel like glilp should be a word.  Perhaps it is a word in some obscure language.

Anyways, here's to progress!

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Okay, I am going to apologize for this one in advance. (part VI)

What should I write tonight?  Why not, the homework's done.  The TV is off.  Everything is quiet except for my music.  The Red Hot Chili Peppers, "Brendan's Death Song".  I want to see them live again.  Every time is different in an awesome way, yet similar in the way of quality.  Plus they have different guitarist now, a different sound.  New songs.  They always play all their new songs.  I like that.  Renewal.

There is a natural rhythm to everything, calibrated by my senses to just exactly the way I like.  It all comes out in these words.  When I play guitar.  Other rhythm activities.

*wink wink, nudge nudge*

I like a very organic, orgasmic sound.  R&B, but the good kind of shit, like Motown or Stax.  The funk brothers or The Mar-keys and Booker T. and the MG's.  Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels.  Yeah.  Even the Kingsmen.  They are one of the greatest bands of all time, after all they did record the best version of the greatest song ever conceived of besides anything by Jimi Hendrix or Dido.

[Fuck, did I just say Dido?  Dude, that has to be a typo.  Sorry.]

Yes, the Red Hot Chili Peppers have that kind of magic.  For me.  Not everybody might agree, but I don't really give a fuck.  Yes, I am that self-centered.  Deal with it.  I like music my way and I am not going to apologize for that.

[Dude, that sounded awfully harsh, maybe you should tone it down some.]


[Good.  Thank you.]

Who are you anyway?

[The voice inside your head.]

That's fucking trippy, man.

[I know, my head is totally spinning too.]

I can't believe I am actually have a conversation with myself right now.

[I am not yourself.  I am your meta-self.]

Oh.  Is there a difference?

[Not particularly.]


[Yeah, sorry.]

So, what does that make this?

[A form of masturbation?]


Monday, October 22, 2012

A story that I just wrote in about a hour and half just for the Hell of It

Any Other Monday Night
By Gabe Gott

...Click clack, clickity clack, clack, clack...

"What doya' wanna do?"

"I dunno."  He continued staring ahead at the screen, fingers moving ceaselessly in a careful rhythm.

My hands followed the beat of his clicking as I scribbled furiously away in my notebook, which lay on the floor in front of me, as I hunched over my acoustic guitar, its cheaply laminated wood substitute of a body digging into my chest.

I lean back against the foot of the couch behind me, laying my head on the seat.  The coffee table separated us; the glow of the TV, flash, flash, flashing along to his gameplay, the music to our motion.

I played a riff out on my guitar, fingers digging into the frets on one hand, gripping the pick and hitting the strings like a mallet with the other, the notes thudding out, the clicking of his fingers on the controller keeping my note-timing consistent.

"Let's at least go buy some beers or something."

"'Kay...Let me get through this level, first."


His eyes glassed over as he drove along, headlights flashing on the highway as we drove along, seemingly cutting our own path through the forest, which clung just at the edge of our trail, which had become so entrenched nothing would ever grow there again.

Around, around, around a curve, the road appearing in front of us, the horizon suddenly becoming visible like navy blue on black as a car came at us from a distance.

It seemed hundreds of miles away but came upon us almost instantly, blinding me and causing him to swerve a little.  Blink, the light flashed from Heavenly to tolerable, and he was able to correct the wheel so we didn't drift over and collide with the oncoming blazing chariot.

He flipped his own brights off just as the oncoming vehicle passed us, flipping its brights back on almost as quickly as ours flashed off.

It faded in the rearview mirror.

He flipped his brights back on as we puttered along, the oceans once again calm.  He pushed down on the car's cigarette lighter and rolled down his window, and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pants pockets, lifting it up to his face and pulling a cigarette out with his lips, tossing me the pack, and I grabbed one.

The lighter clicked and he lit his and then I lit my and put it back in its port.  I rolled my own window down and smoke from my stack started to suck out.

"ID puleeze."

I stared across the counter at her, 30-pack of High Life, a carton of Marlboro Menthols, standing in the part of the Red Sea between us.

I rolled my eyes.

"I have to make it look good."  She points up to the camera, cocked and pointing down at us from a perch over her shoulder so Big Brother had the vantage to see right down her shirt as she stood there, hunching over, looking up at me from slits, eyelids like blinds so I couldn't see the nakedness inside her.

I smile, pull my wallet out, handing me my ID with my debit card.

She takes my ID, carefully inspecting it like a legally blind pervert trying to see a naked Polaroid.

"Okay." She hands it back and takes my card, swiping it three or four times, waiting a second, and handing it back to me.

"Wanna hang out later."

She looks at me and our eyes meet, she flutters her eyelids and looks down at the screen.  The receipt printer starts screeching and spewing out paper, and I continue staring at her.

She tears the receipt off and hands it to me, pulling to hand out to me a chewed on Bic from a cup that also contained a golf pencil and a black permanent market and sat on the far side of the register.

I sign the receipt and hand it back to her wrapped up in the pen.  She hesitates and takes it from me, putting the pen back in the cup and the receipt in a fold that she had pulled from somewhere below her, underneath the counter.

"Can I bring some friends?"


"Tina and Lisa."

"Oh yea, of course."

"Okay, cool.  I get off in a half hour."


He was talking on his phone as I walked over, sat the beer and the cigs on the roof and opened my door, picking up the beer and the cigs and sitting down.  I pulled the door closed and he turned on the ignition, pulled himself around to look out the back window as he back, and then we pulled out of the gas station.

His lighter clicked and we both lit our cigarettes and rolled down our windows.

"Okay, see you in a bit." He folded his phone and threw it in the backseat.  "Jimmy'll be there pro'lly by the time we get back."

"Cool."  I lit another cigarette from the butt of the last one.

We pulled into the driveway and some rusty dump sat parked blocking his garage door.  The owner of the car sat Indian-style on the roof of the jalopy, smoking on a peace pipe.

"HEEEEYYYYY."  I rolled down my window and stuck my head out.  "Wait for us!"

We pulled up behind him and got out of the car as he climbed down from his.  The three of us stood in a circle.  He re-packed his pipe and sent it around.

"Girls'r comin' over t'night."

"Cool." He blew a smoke ring which slowly dissipated into the night sky.


I run down the hall and throw open the door.

"HEEYyyy!" They all roll in, each carrying some kind of drinkable tasty treat.

"How was work?" She kisses me and wraps her arms around me and I pull her into my grip.

"Fuck you..." She says as she pushes me away.  "Come on, Let's get our drink on GIRLLZ!"

They dash past me and I continue to walk out to the front porch, closing the door behind me and lighting a cigarette.

I smoked my cigarette and came inside, threw my empty pack on the floor, just as Jimmy switched the music.  The Black Keys blasted out of the speakers on the TV, which glowed and pulsated with Winamps Visulization, his computer screen rolling around with the same patterns in miniture from where his HP sat on the counter next to the Plasma.

"Fuck yeah, better'n that last shi' you played." I walked back down the hall past where Jimmy stood talking to one of the other girls down to the kitchen where the other three made company.

Each holds a drink as I come in.  He seems happy.  They are all smiling, she beams as I enter.  I down the last of my beer and sit the empty on the counter among the dozens of other empties and two gutted pizza boxes.

"Miss me much?"

"I miss your cock."

"That makes you." Her other friend walks past her and around behind him and jerks on his arm and pulls him out the room.

She and I stand on opposite sides of the island, she is nursing a Mike's Hard Lemonade and I turn around a grab a High Life from the fridge behind me.

The music is blasting behind us and we seem to be floating in the air, positive and negative ions floating about, crashing into each other and us, making my arm hair stand on end.

"Wanna do it on the counter?"

I heard a faint moan coming from somewhere beyond the music.

Next thing I know beer cans and pizza boxes are raining to the ground all around us and she is sitting on the counter.  She tips her beer back and throws her bottle behind her head and it crashes and shatters against the sink.

Last time I left body fluids on this counter, I realize, it was vomit.

She smiles and wraps her legs around me.

Definitely an improvement over last week.

Saturday, October 20, 2012


Also, I don't know if anyone (who is viewing on a computer, sorry phone people) has checked it out, but if you click on the sidebar button, it gives you other options on how you want to view my page.  This is just how I like it.  If you like it differently, though, then...  Feel free.
I was just jamming on my guitar, through my amp, through my headphones, and I just randomly figured out how to play "Waiting for the Bus" by ZZ Top.  I must be tuning in on the mothership's frequency.  You see, me, and ZZ Top are actually aliens who have been sent to this planet solely for the purpose of rocking you.  I have just failed you utterly and miserably.  I still manage to rock myself pretty well, though.  I sold out and became the yuppie alien, I guess -- always serving my own materialistic needs.

In other pertinent information, I am also drinking some tea.  It is a sleepy time tea, I think.  Either that or Chamomile.  My wife thew away the boxes and wrote the names in pencil on the secondary plastic packaging, but I didn't bother to look at it closely enough to figure out which one it was.  Definitely getting more of a sleepytime vibe, although I am making it extra stronger (since I now have a strainer and a tea pot and cup of my own).  I like to pretend I am classy, although I know the truth.

I should get back to jamming on my guitar, though, before I end up buying that ZZ Top album (Tres Hombres) on Amazon (too late).

Friday, October 19, 2012

This is NOT a test of the Emergency Broadcasting System

Nor is it an emergency.  Not would it be relevant to post anything on here in an emergency.  Although, if it was severe enough, I might, just to be a good citizen and all.

I sit here, watching Louie, ready to delve into days of hours of reading just so I can do my midterm.  This is what happens when you get behind, though.  It's not all my fault.  In fact, there for a while, I was working like 43 hours and going to grad school full time.  I gave an honest effort towards completing my homework, and I got the assignments done, but the reading...which is truly the most important part...I slacked off on it.

It's easy enough to do, but, in the end, if I want to get the As, I have to understand the material fully by finish all the readings so I can do my final projects/papers and survive the semester.  Luckily I am only working 30 hours a week (which is really still too many) so I have significantly (not really significantly, but more a more adequate amount) more time to work on it.

I will get it done.  I always do no matter what.  I enjoy it.  If it wasn't a challenge in some way than I would probably start to get a little bored with it.

Actually probably not.  In fact, if I could focus on it exclusively, even given any responsibilities I might have as a TA (which would be a good learning experience), I would be happy and productive.

I am happy now.  Stressed, but happy.  Even given the fact that I have to work, which really isn't that bad, or as bad as it could be, I still really enjoy all aspects of my life.  Life is good.  I am not bragging.  I just feel like I have to balance all the negatively in my writing (as it is that sort of relief for me, so, I can justify it in some way, anyway -- as it is the best therapy I have ever had).

It's interesting that in spite of the time that I don't have to get my work done, I still continue to work on this and the book and all that, spend time with my wife, have some kind of social life, and I still will get my work done.  And I will get As.  I will get the TA position.  I will continue to grow my audience, to work towards be a better writer, trying to get published, and maybe eventually get paid, even a few bucks extra.

All in all life is grand affair.  No matter what happens.  The good, the bad, everything in between, it can all be taken in stride, in the end, as long as I can still keep going, I will.  That's what really counts.  Not giving up.  That's what gets people in trouble.  That's what creates misery.  That's what makes life not worth living.  That's why it's critical to never give up.

I'll have plenty of time to rot after I'm dead.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

random musings on penises and what-not

I like how, the older I get, the more surreal and perverse life becomes.  For instance, when you're younger, sexuality is such a big deal, but, when you get older, it just exists, everyone expects it from you, and, when you are married, it's not weird for people to ask you when you are going to have a baby, except that it's extremely weird and you never get used to it.

Maybe some people do, but I don't.

 Can I just say that Emerson Lake and Palmer's Brain Salad Surgery is a weird fucking album, but I can't think of anything better to listen to when I am even the slightest bit inebriated.  I know this seems random, but I am listening to the LP right now as I write this, so it's not really random at all. If anything, it inspired this whole blog, since I was reading about the artist who did the cover, HR Giger, and I never noticed before the glowing penis, which was apparently more prominent in the original version, but the record company made them tone it down.

It is interesting that something that is literally a central part of 50% of the world's population's lives is the cause of such shame and humiliation that when it is pictured it is worse than a picture of someone getting immolated or beheaded or whatever.  Violence is actually more acceptable to depict that a natural part of the male anatomy.  Whatever.  It's not like the vagina has any better of a reputation.  In fact, it probably has a worse reputation.  Except in porn or anatomy books, you never see it out in public, even in the movies, and I am sorry, those fake bushes that actresses wear don't count.  No, the vagina is so horribly offense, it is worse than Janet Jackson's nipple, even.   Imagine if she had flashed her stuff how much bigger the outcry would have been.  She would have been beheaded, or some network executive would have "beheaded" himself in her.

I am not sure the dipiction of Dirk Diggler's penis at the end of Boogie Nights really counts either.  I am sorry, Mark Wahlberg, but that couldn't have been real.  And if it was, well, then, God bless you.

Can you imagine how much less violence there would be in the world if people were really that cool about sex, sexuality, and, even, for that matter, artistic depictions of nudity or sexuality.  I think it would make a real difference in the world if we shed our inhibitions like clothes and straddling reality once and for all.

When it comes to sexuality we are all hypocrites   We are all guilty of it, or most of us, anyway, and we'll prod young married couples to produces babies even though that is really the last thing our society needs right now, but, it still makes us feel ashamed on some level, even if it is the kind of shame that makes us feel oh so good.

And I haven't even bridged the topic of homosexuality, either.  Wouldn't it be nice to just let two consenting adults live their lives however they want because they aren't hurting anyone else.  It's quite frankly no one's business to impede people from who they choose to be in a "more than friends" relationship with, no matter what our social or religious might be.  Last time I checked this wasn't Iran.  Just turn the other cheek.  They probably aren't getting married in your church, and the government can't force a private institution to allow such an act to happen, so your personal sanctity is not in question.  And if marriage really was that sacred, or held to be that sacred, then why do celebrities who we as a society publicly worship make such a sham of it in every conceivable way.

Life has become a soap opera.  We live in a Days of Our Lives sort of universe, because reality really isn't that different than how we depict it, after all.  It's not escaping, it's indulging in the truth. The real housewives are nothing more or less than our inner vixen bitches.  And Honey Boo Boo, well, that is the soul of  the turd we are bringing to life at this very moment as our metabolisms continue working and churning, sapping the energy out and wasting all the rest.  That's all a part of life too, I suppose, which generally explains the mysticism behind the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.  Isn't in interesting that in some dialects of the English languages that it is pronounced more Turdles than Turtles -- in fact, probably pretty much everywhere outside of England proper.

And that seems like an excellent place to pull out (that's what she said).

Tuesday, October 16, 2012


Okay, I have potentially one more of these I am willing to post, and like 2-3 stories that just need some careful editing that I am going to pursue publishing in specific markets where I feel my brand will fit the best and help bring them more potential readers too, even if it is only a few, both of our audiences will grow, and that will allow me to move into bigger markets and repeating, until eventually when it makes sense to cycle back through and publish in some of the same markets.  Maybe the next time I would push my poetry instead.  I have like four other stories that need finished in some way, but will be really good when I can find the time to finish them too.  But building my audience will only increasingly give me a reason to do so, and make it through my book too.

Perhaps if I can get that elusive TA position I will be able to do more personal writing too, because, as I focus my studies more and more on studying language on the internet, which seems to be the direction where I am going, it will be increasingly relevant to have a greater presence online.  If I can do it without putting money into it, or not a lot of money outside of the required technology, which I already now possess, and maybe a little money for a domain name of my own, I can justify continue doing it.  I believe that  it is important  to try to make it as a professional writer in addition to going to school and studying and trying to find a viable way to demonstrate linguistics theory while using the internet as my example and also becoming accredited to teach at least at a community college if not a university (if I turn out to be mostly completely full of shit).

I don't know.  I am just working towards something, trying to make this all work for me so I don't have to be broke for the rest of my life.  I could easily take an easier route, but I believe the type of success that I require I have to earn for myself my way.  Maybe I will ultimately fail, but I am not going to give up until I am sure I have failed and I haven't thus far so I am going to keep going with it.

I do love the Internet.

[Also, keep in mind that I am a little undecided about that second paragraph.  I am not really sure what I am trying to say there, but it seems like some key, juicy personal rhetoric of some sort so I am going to leave it in.]

[Okay, I have since edited it, that elusive bastard, the second paragraph, not the second meta-paragraph, which this is, but the actual second paragraph.  I think it better reflects what I am trying to say, however, I am not really going to go through and read it all again so it is going to remain as is until I decide to go back and correct it, as I inevitably will, at a time sometime later in the future...]

Friday, October 12, 2012

The Audience Decide

(note: if I don't get any responses I will just pick one and just pretend like I received a response.  I've got pride but no dignity.)

Should I post more stories or poetry on this blog?

(I am going to start holding my breath, now, but don't worry, I will eventually pass out and start breathing again.)

A Nihilistic Downwards Spiral into the Abyss of Nothingness (Part MMCDXX)

I had over 1,000 page views last month.  Not bad.  I have two short stories I am thinking about releasing, and like seven more that I want to try to publish in other bigger markets.  Maybe other free blogs, though.  They'll have more significant audiences though.  [Since significant is a relative term, I shall elaborate.  If each blog has 10,000 hits a month, that is more significant (to me).]

I definitely think keeping it (this blog) eclectic, like, writing just to write, is a good idea.  Just letting it be free to the world, even if it is all ones and zeros, electrical impulses.  Actually, that is downplaying it too much, because the medium really is significant.  Although the internet can be a play to make a decent living, it is also a great free marketplace of ideas too.  A cultural superhighway.  Our connection to each other.  Even if not everyone is directly participating yet, they will.  Or they will become more insignificant, because, this is the future.  More and more the physical world will cease to matter.  Slowly and slowly we will build our lives into it that it will consume our lives, if it hasn't already.  My DNA has already gone digital.

I am not saying that I am that significant.  Far, far removed from it.  I eventually will be long forgotten like 99.99999999999999999999999999...% of the entire population.  Those nines go out to infinity.  It is that far removed.  The Beatles haven't even quite made it there yet, but when they arrive, they will only be a step or two ahead of Jimi Hendrix and Justin Bieber.  I don't care what anybody says, for a nerdy little white kid that kid is really successful.  I'm sorry, I don't know how that train of thought got started onto music.  I should be saying someone like Galileo or some shit.  Stephen Hawking.  Those people all had ideas I can get behind.

I am happy being invisible.  Invisibility is great.  You get great shade, let me tell you, but hey, I won't, because you already know, because the truth is we are all invisible.  Our lives are truly meaningless.  Only by building our digital DNA out in hyperspace will we gain meaningfulness  It's a crazy idea, I know.  But hey, I can't help it.  I'm gone stark raving mad.  I'm a loon.  HaHA!


...don't continue or you'll ruin it....

I will have stretching it too far, if I haven't already.  I probably have, but the realization of that fact bears no significance on whether I will continue or not.  I will obviously continue.  I think it is a pretty rad choice, although you may disagree, which is fine.  I am not apologetic about it.  Nor should I be.  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make this a sermon.  Or a sermon embedded in a sermon.  That might be the case.  Any one of the options is truly feasible.  I would be okay with it any way.

...too late, huh....  Sorry that I'm not sorry.  But I'm not.  I am because I'm not.

Seriously, I applaud anyone who has actually scrolled down this far.  This is ridiculous.

I wonder how much code I just wasted with all that space.  No, wait, that makes my brain hurt.

Dwarf stars.

Yes, that was random.  So is this, I might add.  Completely and utterly random, at least ideologically, not necessarily linguistically.  It will undoubtedly become a pattern eventually even if it hasn't already, so maybe I guess I shouldn't even keep it going

The pit of Hell.   The end.  Actually, not.  But hey, whatever you want to believe, any way.  I believe that life goes on, that Hell is a state of mind.  Once you push it out it ceases to be.  Or maybe not.  Either way, I am going to die eventually, and so is everything and everyone else.  The universe is finite.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Pardon the Interruption...

I would like to take this time for an opportunity to talk to you all about something that concerns me as a human being.

It has come to my attention that there is a show on TV literally called Honey Boo Boo.  I know I am late-coming in find out about this festering pile of dog shit, but better late than never.  Okay, that's definitely not true, but anyways...  I am not sure what this network ass gang bang could possibly be about or how such a show could possibly have any sort of redeeming social value.  MTV has sunk to a new low.  I am guessing that is who airs it.  Either that, or the E! Network.

The network executives are draining the collective IQ to the level of those burned out crack whores pimping their own ugly children out to whatever pedophile audience watches those things, and now to TV audiences too, and exponentially more pedophiles.  That kind of show is their bread and butter...  Guhhhhhhhh!  I just dry heaved.  Oh God!...

What the fuck is wrong with us, America?!  Why is anyone watching this garbage?  Well, anyone besides pedophiles?  As if that poor child's life wasn't going to be rough enough.  Now it has to stare in the face of exponentially growing cultural ambivalence, which will be a long lonely road through life, especially for a junky quasi-celebrities who will probably end up ODing while huffing Clorox, anyway...

Well, I am not going to waste any more space on this issue, so now you may resume your regularly scheduled afternoon masturbation session.

Monday, October 1, 2012

My goal

My goal is to be less lazy with this blog when it comes to editing -- both for typos and for content.

As far as typos go: I am only human.  I make mistakes.  Sometimes I type something wrong or add in a comma splice or some other grammatical error...  It happens, but I will try to be more diligent about finding errors and correcting them before I publish something.

As far as content goes...  Well, I just have to be a little more careful with what I say or at least say what I am trying to say in a better way so that the message is clear.  I might be crazy but I don't want people to think I am crazy in a way that I am not crazy.

I mean, come on, Gabe, someone who is a grad student in English shouldn't have frequent errors or too many absurdist rants in his writing -- even if it is just in a blog that only a few people, maybe a hundred at the very most, read.  I have to represent!  If for no other reason than present and future credibility.

With that being said...  Goodnight Internet!

PS: I will also try to work on clarity.