I don't even know where I got the idea to sign up here, and if I did, I sure as hell forgot. Occasionally you at one time consider the notion of doing something, and then in the midst of typing in keys - oh, you actually -did- that thing, and lo, your checking account has already been tapped, you've shot your load and the disfigured fetus is this, my own little journal amongst a community that Mom Would Not Approve Of, initially putting myself on the market for the ladies Mom Would Have To Get Used To.

In any case, my own personal blog is already listed in my profile, so you can check that out if you're curious about stuff I'm up to, projects I'm going to be working on. In here - I will most likely be posting in excerpts. For a time, I did this on MySpace, my dumb ass not really understanding that the people who frequent MySpace usually aren't there for the writing, but are moreso there for the idea that sixteen year old girls really are interested in what you have to say (false), and that they want to meet you (false).

That, and friends list. Apparently, it is quite easy to acquire friends the way Mother Theresa certainly would've accrued good karma if she had believed in that sort of thing, but it is beyond my way of things to stoop so low as to add each and every individual that comes my way in the hopes of somehow achieving MySpace celebrity status (oh noes, I'm famous!). But enough on other sites.

Here I'll throw in various excerpts of my own writing, which are far from the ranting free verse that many blogs abscribe to, the stream-of-consciousness thingiemabobbers that broody teenagers write in the hopes of appearing insightful. It just doesn't work for me. I tell stories. I don't rant unless the characters rant, and even then, you'll never know if that's something I, personally, would rant about, because I don't write the stories. They write themselves, in a way, and I simply translate.

I don't even know where I got the idea to sign up here, and if I did, I sure as hell forgot. Occasionally you at one time consider the notion of doing something, and then in the midst of typing in keys - oh, you actually -did- that thing, and lo, your checking account has already been tapped, you've shot your load and the disfigured fetus is this, my own little journal amongst a community that Mom Would Not Approve Of, initially putting myself on the market for the ladies Mom Would Have To Get Used To.

In any case, my own personal blog is already listed in my profile, so you can check that out if you're curious about stuff I'm up to, projects I'm going to be working on. In here - I will most likely be posting in excerpts. For a time, I did this on MySpace, my dumb ass not really understanding that the people who frequent MySpace usually aren't there for the writing, but are moreso there for the idea that sixteen year old girls really are interested in what you have to say (false), and that they want to meet you (false).

That, and friends list. Apparently, it is quite easy to acquire friends the way Mother Theresa certainly would've accrued good karma if she had believed in that sort of thing, but it is beyond my way of things to stoop so low as to add each and every individual that comes my way in the hopes of somehow achieving MySpace celebrity status (oh noes, I'm famous!). But enough on other sites.

Here I'll throw in various excerpts of my own writing, which are far from the ranting free verse that many blogs abscribe to, the stream-of-consciousness thingiemabobbers that broody teenagers write in the hopes of appearing insightful. It just doesn't work for me. I tell stories. I don't rant unless the characters rant, and even then, you'll never know if that's something I, personally, would rant about, because I don't write the stories. They write themselves, in a way, and I simply translate. Or some such shit. (Consonation, by the way, is a fun thing to play with and slip in when you're bored, like you would slip in with a drunk co-ed at a Sigma Chi party.)

So I may put in my own personal goings-on if there's enough demand for it (demand, v.: something I will not get), but in the meantime, I'll throw in some excerpts of various projects. I usually end up writing about ten stories at one time. Some short, some longer. You'll see.