This is just a rehearsal, a rough sketch of a blog based on the spotless blog inside my head. More faultless than spotless, more flawless than faultless, more impeccable than flawless, my ultimate blog is everything this one isn't. These are just the words of a character loosely based on myself. I hide behind an absurd alias feeding you lies and exaggerations, untruths and misrepresentations, fabrications and caricatures. I've created more an antiblog than a blog.
Where do you go when you run out of places to run? What do you write when you run out of things to say? Well, in my case, I travel to your home or office, riding a wave of bytes through the ether, only to splash against your screen in a mess of nonsensical pixelated ramblings. (Hmmm, pixilated works there, too.) This is where I come to mutter unintelligibly, to think aloud, to babble abstrusely, (or obtusely as the case may be), and just, basically, hope for some kind of inspiration. And sometimes it comes, sometimes it doesn't.
So, are these more antithoughts than thoughts? Are they what make me lose my way while working, while attempting to work, while trying desperately to shake off writer's block or organise my writings into coherent arrangements? Do I, then, try to extricate the gems from the sewage by sorting through the piles of turds in my mind and laying them here to dry, out of the way, while I search (often fruitlessly) for the gem amidst it all? Maybe. But, then, maybe sometimes this is as good as it gets - there is no gem to be found.
I've accidentally created a blog filled with thoughts while thinking all-the-while that I was creating an antiblog consisting of antithoughts. Or maybe, just maybe, this post is little more than one more turd in an ever-lengthening sewage-pipe dream.
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