"How are you doing?"
"Fine. Better than fine, actually. Resplendent."
"Well, that's good to hear."
"I still might write a quasi-cryptic self-loathing blog post about it, though."
"Didn't you already do that yesterday?"
"Remarkably, I may still have enough self-loathing inside me for another."
"And blogging helps?"
"Yeah, for some reason, it manages to suck some poison out of the wound that ordinary talking can't reach."
"Blogging is weird."
"It's like how there is something about public self-flagellation that no amount of private self-flagellation can substitute for."
"I guess maybe it's not so much that blogging is weird as that you are weird."
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3 comments:
They call it stormy monday, yes but tuesday’s just as bad.
They call it stormy monday, yes but tuesday’s just as bad.
Wednesday’s even worse; thursday’s awful sad.
The eagle flies on friday, saturday I go out to play.
The eagle flies on friday, but saturday I go out to play.
Is it saturday yet?
you are more than your blog, dude. you have the same problem that i do. so much of you is out in the open for people to see that it seems like there isn't much that you aren't letting people see. i suspect that there is.
also, yes, you are weird. really, really weird. who gives a flying flip?
and finally, self-loathing is the old grey, which was the new black, but isn't anymore. so, stop it.
Indeed, I am more than my blog. I don't think my weirdness deserves two reallys, however.
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