Damn a fellow blogger for shattering my illusion! Why can't some people let other people be? Here I was, all blissful in my little world, believing that nothing could ever get to me. Then she says something very innoccuously (at this moment, I don't really care if that is the right word to be used here or even if it is spelled right), something that those among us of lesser flesh and blood would simply have let pass right through them feeling as much pinch as they do when the zillions of neutrinos pass through them every day of their miserably despicable existence. Of all things that she could ever have said (sue me for using a cliche), she says that I am goodie-goodie, that I have had no 'action' worth the mention.

And she does this on messenger. Why? Because (what if a sentence should not begin with 'because'?) she knew as well as I did that saying this on a public forum would not only demean her in the eyes of the blog reading junta it would demean her in her own eyes. Those like me have have no qualms over sinking to lower lows. But those like a fellow blogger have just not evolved enough.

Not evolving enough is not such a bad thing. Cockroaches, unchanged for the last 100 million years or so, have shown that by surviving whatever it was that wiped out those mind-bogglingly big lizards that are for some reason assumed to have been cute by all those who lay great value on being politically correct. What a rat's ass! If only they knew that there are far more captivating asses, like those of the likes of Cindy Crawford and Karolina Kurkova, as a race we would not have shied away from calling a spade a spade, or in this case calling a lizard a barf-inducing specimen. Imagine waking up to a T-Rex slithering on your ceiling!

Perhaps my fellow-blogger has the stomach for folderol, in which case she can digest a lot more than what most can. That and the fact that she loves me so much that her vision is blurred and she sees me the way she wants me to be perceived. Yes, she has religiously followed the happennings on my blog for a year and a half. Somewhere down the line, she had to snap.

Current Mood: Gloomy
Current Music: Eminem - Lose Yourself
Being me, I am cynical. Being me, I am sarcastic. Being me, I am vain. Being me, I am grotesque. Being me, I am superfluous. Being me, I am self-righteous. Being me, I am satanic. Being me, I am verbose. Being me, I am gloomy. Most of all, though, being me, I am me. It goes with the territory of being me.

What I realised, though, right about now, is that I may have set the record for the most occurrences of 'I' and 'me' in one paragraph. This is no mean feat, even for me who always puts 'I' before anyone else. Anyone except my blog audience though. See, just how much I care about them? I actually managed to use 'though' three times in my post already. Never before have I put myself to this level of decadence and depravity. I may re-use words of my previous posts, but I never ever do that for the current post.

It is for that very reason that I use cheaper substitutes like 'however', 'but', 'nevertheless', 'notwithstanding', 'although', and any of the million more that a quick search through thesaurus.com throws up. That I did not search this time is attributed solely to a certain blog audience of mine who had vowed never to comment on my blog again. That and the fact that the vow was broken within two hours of it being taken.

Somehow, I like it when people go back on their words. It may seem to be the easiest thing to do. How difficult would it be to say something and then not do it? This is where most of us err. For all that we may have become, there are still those among us who find it extremely difficult to part with their integrity. Even those that already have done so, have gotten there with tremendous dedication and commitment. I lucked out here. I had none to begin with. So there arose no question of my ever having to part with it.

That did raise a much more serious concern. The bar had been set really low. Could I ever hope to slither from right underneath it? And, voila! I not only managed to do that but I continue doing it - setting the bar lower and still snaking my way across.

All that I have said now, I already have many a time. But it was important that I did it again. For even if it may not be apparent, I do care about those who choose to comment on my blog. And I did not wish that a certain someone put herself (I am guessing the gender here, and even if I am not I would be using non-sexist language) through the enormous effort of sifting through archives of my posts to decpiher all that this one post managed to capture.

Current Mood: Gloomy
Current Music: Garbage - The world is not enough...
There is something about a kiss, something so inherently gooey about it that there is no way you would think of it otherwise unless you have put yourself through the travesty. Well, at least I am hoping it is more fun than it looks for anything that involves the transfer of bodily fluids is either painful as in the case of a blood transfusion or yuck as in the case of nasal mucus residues on your shirt courtesy a very satisfying rip-roaring sneeze of this colleague who sits somewhere in your vicinity.

Whatever the case may be, and I do not think it is either of the former or the latter, the point of interest here is not the act of transfer or even the fluid. I am not quite sure what the point is anymore. It is quite lost in the rattan-like rigmarole that I have woven. I am certain, however, that it is much more profound than the question of life, the universe, everything. Not surprising then that it has been lost, perhaps never to be found again the same way the question in question was lost when the planet earth was destroyed by the Vogon constructor fleet to make way for a hyperspace bypass.

As I sit here in front of my 'puter spewing out enough non-sense to power Somalia for a few centuries, if ever a power plant could be built that ran on pure non-sense, while listening to Meatloaf I cannot help but think if Goo Goo Dolls would have been a better choice at this time of the day. Or even if there is such a thing as 'this time of the day'. Wouldn't 'this day in time' be a much more accurate description of a temporal unit since a day is a subset of time? But I never did understand set theory well enough to take sides here. Pity!

From time immemorial, or at least since I have been in grade 7 when I first used this phrase, I never dreamt that there will be a moment in my life so supremely self-actualising that I would simply be sucked into the vortex of it all. Good that I never dreamt for it never happened. So I take leave of you of my sorry existence only to return stronger and sorrier, if such a word even exists.

Current Mood: Gloomy
Current Music: Meatloaf - I would do anything for love
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