I will never cease to amaze me how readily some people shovel out “advice” to others on matters when they know none of the details for a given situation; especially when the recipient's livelihood is the matter at stake; especially when this “advice” is recommending the recipient make a bold and dangerous move; especially when the “advice” possesses a tone not of a suggestion, but rather the tone of telling the recipient what to do; especially when I see no indication that the recipient even asked for advice in the first place. It’s bad enough that people use these blog sites as a personal soapbox to spew their worthless opinions... no one knows shit, and yet they all seem to have all the answers to everything. Whatever happened to entertaining expressions of observations? Oh, no no no. “Finally, a medium where I can tell the Universe why everyone is wrong and I am right. The internet is so lucky to have me telling it like it is.” Ug. Must you also poison other peoples’ comment sections with your bile? Whatever, perhaps if I walked around in the woods naked, I would have all the answers to other peoples’ problems too.

Speaking of naked, the other day a guy I know, who for years has earned extra cash standing nude in front of college students, was trying to convince me that I should do the same thing. The money didn’t sound too bad, the hours would work well with my schedule, and I would be lying if I said I didn’t consider it. I have no problem at all getting paid to stand naked in front of strangers in a non-sexual context. After all, they would be the ones that would have to stare a my flat flabby hairy pockmarked ass. Wouldn’t that be the hard job? Comparatively, I would have it easy. But then I thought about how dull it would be to stand still for hours on end without internet access. Unless they wanted me to pose staring at a laptop or reading a book, it wouldn’t be worth the money he was talking about.

Obviously, I have not been posting here a lot lately. Eh, what can I say? Back in the day, I used to get a big kick out of sharing the tales of self destructive behavior those around me would share with me. Lately, I’ve found myself not enjoying those stories so much. Nowadays, when people tell me this and that, little bells go off in my head that ring “heroin” or “cocaine” or “drunk” or whatever the between the lines imply. Hell, this week an old man I work with just flew in a twinkee hustler from another country who has been emailing him pornographic images of himself for cash, and I don’t even feel like making fun of that. Okay, I feel like making fun of that a little bit; but generally, that sort of shit has been bringing me down lately. When I cleaned up, I promised myself I wouldn’t become one of those moralizing prigs, and I would stay fucked up at heart, but it just isn’t playing out that way. I find myself wanting to be around well adjusted people who don’t wake up under bridges, or in pools of their own vomit, or whoring. I’ve grown completely sick of the stories. I’ve lost my edge. Good riddance and all that, but it has left me a little blocked here. God know I don’t want this to become “Some Asshole Shares His Opinions” sites. But who knows? Maybe next week someone I know will find a dead prostitute in their bed and I’ll want to be a little Chatty Cathy about the whole thing. But if I ever post a cute picture of a cat, hunt me down and bludgeon me to death.

Please.