JINGOS!

I like to think of myself as delightfully eccentric.  That is just the nice way of saying weirdo asshole.

"Jingos!"

"It's not jingos."

It's JINGOS!"

I'm sorry.  I feel shameless that I am shameless.  I am a real hypocrite to rail against corporations and then shamelessly mention them by name in my free blog.  Hypocrisy by design sometimes serves a purpose.

[Okay, I can back and added those last couple of lines later.  And this parenthetical, too.]

Anyways,

Back to my initial point [the whole "I like to think of myself as delightfully eccentric.  That is just the nice way of saying weirdo asshole," part.]

In reality I feel that it is pointless to try to classify myself.  It doesn't really matter what I think about me.  In this post-postmodern state of anarchy, I cease to have meaning outside of these ones and zeros.

This is the post-capitalist depression.  Heh, wasn't capitalism great when it wasn't broken?  Was it ever not broken?  Did we ever really get the concept really on the button?  Or democracy, for that matter.  When you take those two things and compare them the their intentions, we really fucked everything up royally.  Ironically, we went too far with capitalism and not far enough with democracy.

Whatever.  All we've got left is the post-apocalyptic void of our subconscious.  Haven't we all already killed our species off in some manner or another in our minds?  Accepted that it's the end?That we're all doomed?  No, not quite yet, but almost.  Thankfully, we've still got our delusions.

And television.

Mind-numbness.

Shivers of excitement over every word.

When I write I just try and really capture my inner monologue.

That's probably why it seems so random.

Thoughts move too rapidly to even delude myself into thinking I could capture one even fleetingly.

I mean, that's why my trying fails to capture anything remotely resembling a thought.

It's because words and letters are symbols for the abstractness clashing about inside our heads.

I picture it as a vaporous black cloud, the eye of a black hole.

If the void is all I have left, I am going to celebrate it.  Everyone needs a ray of sunshine in the universe, and I've now got mine.

It's like the exact opposite of Buddhism.   Instead of celebrating everythingness, I will bask in nothingness.

A bubble bath in a cesspool.

Akron, Ohio.