Category: Essays & Bad Ideas

An assortment of ramblings; some thoughtful, some thoughtless

According to Tumblr, it has taken me almost three years to finally hit my 1,000th post to this blog. Which is kind of a milestone, and kind of ridiculous, since I’m not sure a Tumblr blog can truly be said to exist if it generates less than a post a day.

Honestly, I’m amazed anyone still finds my stuff. Amidst the raging torrent of porn and puppies that swamps the average Tumblr dashboard, how on earth do you little weirdos keep track of someone who barely posts? And dear god, when he *does* post, it’s usually just pompous prose poetry about the eternal plight of womankind or some sort of disturbing, oddly-constructed story designed to make your feel dirty for enjoying it… hardly seems worth the effort to keep up.

So I’m forced to conclude you girls either have incredibly refined taste or no common sense whatsoever.

Or both. It’s both, isn’t it?

Be Brave

I know you’re sitting out there, waiting. Because you’re a girl, you just sit there and wait.

Wait for something good, or at least something better. Wait to be saved, and cured, and fixed, like an inmate in an empty asylum. Wait for everything to change around you so no one notices you’ve remained the same. Wait for the feelings to go away. Wait for your loins to learn their lessons. Wait for the tide to come in and wash you away to oblivion.

But you know what?

Fuck you.

You don’t get off that easily.

Every girl gets hurt, but brave girls get hurt in more interesting ways.

Mind Over Things That Don’t Matter

It’s ever a challenge, to be good enough at being nothing. To purge yourself of the fanciful delusion that your existence should be more than simply existing. To excise from your bloated, diseased expectations all sense of value, of purpose, of desert. To burn away everything within you that isn’t a desperate, grasping hole of singular and base purpose.

But with determination and a hateful cock, anything is possible.

Cranky Old Man Shit: The Boys

I’ve been seeing an uptick in male readers of late, which is something that always gives me pause. It probably seems like I talk about “writing for women” just to emphasize my preference for pussy, but it’s more than that.

I can trust grown women to read this stuff… women whose lives have taught them to see through my sleight of hand and appreciate the show all the same. I know what I’m writing is messed up, they know they’re messed up for enjoying it, and that mutual understanding provides (dare I say it? I do!) a safe space to unpack and explore a lot of the psychosexual garbage in our heads.

But guys? Like George Costanza and the squirrels, I have no deal with them. And as I click through some of their blogs, I’m not optimistic of ever reaching one. There’s a whole lotta stupidity out there, and while I block the worst of it, I’d rather see people get their shit together.

So if by some chance you are a genuine young man who doesn’t want to be a complete douchebag that makes everyone cringe, but you’re not 100% sure of how to avoid that fate, please try to bear the following incomplete list in mind.

  1. Your dick is not special.
  2. Your dick therefore does not make you special.
  3. Strangers on the internet do not want to see your dick, nor watch you personify it through the inept kabuki of despair you call flirting.
  4. Like my role model Charles Barkley, I am not your role model. There is nothing about where I am that is worth what it took to get here. What you’re looking at is “best of a bad situation” territory; the fact that a crazy number of chicks live here with me should probably make you sad rather than excited.
  5. Some girls on Tumblr are comfortable with me captioning their photos, or replying salaciously, disdainfully, and paternally to their writing. You are not me. (This is a feature, not a bug.) You want to say nasty things to hot girls and be appreciated for it? Invest some time in establishing yourself as a known, predictable quantity whose appearance in someone’s inbox is a pleasant surprise and not just another cold call from an unknown erection.

There. I’ve done my good deed for the year.