The less true things are, the more they seem. And even this is bullshit.
I barely even think about this weblog, much less its original (and quite vain) inspiration. In fact, I hardly think of its progenitor, the original uberhaus Website.. These things used to matter to me. The voice of one man shouting into the wilderness, the attemórt to write poems against all odds and other such romantic notions. Sigh.
So, the things the old folks always told us are totally right. You get older and you begin to give up. Slowly at first so as you don't notice, but you gibe up. You give up fitness and beauty, then strength and finally dreaming (only later to re-embrace dreaming in it's fabulous true state wherein you harbor no desire whatever to realize the dreams). You give up ambition and finally even your will. It is odd how so much is given to the very young, ironic how it is always wasted. Indeed, the young are so callow on the whole, so self-centered and irredeemably narcissistic that when any work of deoth comes from a young author into the public it is greeted with disproportionate acclaim. And more than fair marketing efforts to boot, because in these parts money and success are one and the same. But I digress.
No, the effort of spitting whatever ideas into the void begins to seem more and more meaningless, especially in this blog world where the main readership is largely interested in expanding its own readership and thusly comments everywhere it can to spawn whatever obligitory visits that might result (and thus setting up a chain of action of blogging to gain readership of other bloggers, adopting their tone, etc.). It's fucking GROSS.
I still do it, mind you, but it's because I will (like so many of the age-ing) be stripped last of my essenial vanity.
from the common sea
This is my (and likely your, dear reader, plea). Lord help us all. And please pass the wine.