Yes. So. Hello, greetings, salutations, and go fuck yourselves.



In other news, I've been working steadily on video editing. It's really fucking fun! I'm frustrated with some of the sound tweaking and, of course, exporting my finished products because Adobe is a motherless goat and I'm a complete novice with Premier. But, nevertheless, I've been working on an intro movie to my real blogsite and it's actually turning out very creepy.

If you've seen "Waking Life" or "A Scanner Darkly", you'll know what my intro vid sorta semi looks like. Except with static-like emission revolving around the alienish speaking (me) with a scratchy, cosmic filtered voice.

Anywhoozits, I've also started writing again. It's been...a very long while. I attempted a rewrite of a story a few months ago but lost the nerve, energy, and drive to even give a fuck. Right now, however, I am roaring and ready to pluck words out of the air, arrange them in a sequence, and hope to FUCK that they're not already copyrighted by some rich assknob.

Whatever the fuck, point herein is that I'm writing again. It's a fright to all, I agree. But if anyone commits suicide because of something I write...it's not my fucking fault that they couldn't handle the grit and grim of some of the darker aspects of life.

Good god, man. Stick to your Oprah Winfrey book club and your Teletubbies and avoid me completely, please.

Unless. . .

You are willing. . .

to give unto me . . .

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

Then, by all means, speak up!

I'm not a capitalistic pig, i swear. But the hard truth of this bad fuck-joke we call life is that we NEED to have money in order to survive. Well, I do.

What's funnier than a dead baby?

A dead baby sitting next to a kid with down syndrome.

(I'm going to burn for that one, aren't I? Yeah. I will. It's okay. I am a smoker. I can handle it)

Toodles, suckas. Until next month/year I write in here again.

Ciao!