A Glutton For Punishment

Ladies and gentlemen, you have just born witness to what I would classify as a microcosm of every relationship I've ever had in my entire life. It followed the same trajectory and had the same ending.

First, there's the initial acquainting of the parties. Its usually quite cordial. I make you laugh, you make me laugh, we share stories about ourselves and eventually we become trusting enough to share some deep secret we keep from most everyone else.

Then there is the middle of the relationship. You get tired of my dumb jokes, I get tired of yours. Suddenly those stories we told each other are not as endearing as we had first perceived them to be. And the secrets? Ha! What we have learned in meantime was far more discouraging and quite frankly, disheartening than anything we ever designated as "secret".

And then, there is the end. One day, with absolutely no readily apparent reason, I'm gone.

No note.

No conversation.

Not even a goddamn email.

Just.... gone.

Like it never happened.

And I rather like it. I've become stuck in my ways, and its too late to change them now. I will go on from one forgettable, meaningless, befuddling relationship to the next. You weren't the first, and by no means the last.


For some reason, I thought when I started this whole blog thing that it would be a natural conduit for my writing. Nay. Instead, it has only sharpened my writer's block and made me less and less confident in my writings. And it became something I never imagined it would: read.

I never intended anyone to read my blog. I never wanted anyone to read it. But people did. So I kept writing. Only now, it was more personal. Which irked me to no end.

I'm a fairly private man. Getting me to share the details of my day at work used to be a chore for most people, let alone the inner workings of my insane thought processes. But you all got a front row seat.

And what's even more nuts? People enjoyed it. What you enjoyed about it, I'll never know.

I just feel that I'm not cut out to be someone who blogs about their personal life. It's not my thing. I fear I've already divulged far too much than I ever really intended.



But I do enjoy writing for you. And with the influx of story ideas I've had recently and over the last few months, I think there is material enough to satiate the people who care enough to read it. And for the ones who don't care, well honestly, I don't give a fuck.

So get ready for a heavy dose of morose fiction, boring drama, and insipid comedy. I'll post portions of my myriad of unfinished plays and essays and short stories that I've never bothered to flesh out. Of course I'll tie a neat little bow on them so that they look new, but let's be honest here. You know it and I know it. There are no more original ideas left to be written about. There are just variations on a tired theme.

We as a civilization will go on telling the same old dumbass morality tales we've always told. The same stories with the same old predictable plots and even more predictable endings. No originality, no pinache, no... I don't know what.

Unless, of course, some mad man tried to change all of that.



But who? WHO DAMMIT?!?!