5:30 AM

Ever had one of those nights where you find a song and listen to it till 5 AM, in spite of (because of?) the fact you have work to do next day? There's an almost masochistic enjoyment to it, like a fuck you to yourself.

Whatever, I don't have work to do tomorrow. I like to pretend I have work to do. I like to drink coffee and look at my watch frequently. It helps me play at being grown up. Being a confident grown up is important, and you need these little crutches when you don't drive a car, or know where Cambridge ON is, or what you're supposed to do when you read a "Caution: High voltage wires overhead" sign.

Fuck, isn't it great how Michelle Featherstone sings "guisar" instead of "guitar" in Coffee and Cigarettes? It's like there was Gypsy in her that was fighting to get out and that's how it did. There's no noticeable accent in the entire song, and then boom, there's that beautiful lisp. It feels like it's a secret between me and her, like she put it there because she knew I (and only I) would notice it.

I need  to stop listening to that song and go to sleep. The anticipation of how tired I will be tomorrow is delicious. Being tired in front of people makes you look cool, because it implies your exhaustion originated in some great exertion on your part.

Here's an abrupt ending. love, whatever.

First LOLOLOLOLOLOL

Well this is weird. This is my first post on my first blog, heh. My manifesto for this thing is pretty much that I will post stuff on it once in a while instead of flaming other people's facebook posts in epileptic fits of rage. Should be a good exercise in writing too, because I haven't written in a long time and also because I don't know fuck you. I dont want to give up too much anonymity, but I'll put down some stuff here so that there is a context for the words that come out of my mouth except not really because I am actually typing how would I speak onto a blog what are you an idiot?

I am a kid that spent much of his childhood taking himself way too seriously. I grew up moving around the country and trying to make friends, mostly by finding the most naive kid in class and telling them bullshit stories about how my shoes could propel me because they had air in the soles and how I had GPS trackers embedded in my arm because my dad was a secret agent. I shit you not I told these stories, and I shit you not there were kids that bought them, but that is a story for another time. Sometimes, on more introspective days, when the power was out and the bike chain was rusted, I would ask myself why. I liked to pretend there was some sort of poignant, tragic reason that I told these stories; that I was a tortured soul crying out for help or something of that sort. As I have grown and found out more about myself, I have found a much simpler, more elegant answer. Sometimes when I think about it, I find it splendid, even, in its liberating simplicity.

I am a douchebag. Hold on, I don't hate myself, and that is no weepy confession. It is what it is. It is a value-neutral description. I have simply discovered that I share many of the qualities that society attributes to the social phenomenon known as a douchebag. Once you get over that cognitive hurdle; once you truly realise, deep in your soul, as you talk to the friend who you told many a year ago that you made money "hacking websites" (whatever the fuck that means) and getting the owners to pay you to restore them ... once you realise, in short, that you are no less than a full blown, bona fide douchebag, it becomes a lot easier to live with. The mores and values that bind you evaporate. The fucks that you do not give about what is acceptable and unacceptable become legion. Hell, I could write a book on how realising that I am a douchebag changed my life for the better. It could be called something inspirational like "Unlock the Douchebag in You: One Man's Journey to Redemption". Then loads of sad people in malls could buy it and I would make millions monetizing their existential angst because that is what douchebags do.

I think this blog is my way of feeling more important. I'm okay with that. I think it is important to be aware enough of your insignificance to realise that your modesty too, is unimportant. The universe does not give a runny shit about how grand you think you are. So really, who am I hurting?

Anyway I am tired of typing now. I have work tomorrow and I am beginning to doubt how valuable this is. Goodbye for now.