Detachment

My RSS reader has over a thousand unread items. I can't seem to keep it clear. People say things to me on Facebook. I get around to replying sometimes. Sometimes I don't. My desk is covered in paper and junk again. I feel like I am ready to disregard the outside world--ostensibly, even as I write this blog post for the outside world. I'd like to drop everything and go live on an island. I suppose this is a fairly common sentiment. The weather is nicer. Providing the island is tropical, anyway. Some island off the coast of Maine might not be as pleasant in that category. But in its isolation, perhaps that would be even closer to the ideal I seek. I don't mean this to come off in some depressed-sounding way. I am not looking to jump into the ocean and say fuck all to humanity. I just want to hang out with island people. And live on island time. And without technology. Or without too much technology. I mean, I do enjoy indoor plumbing, heat/air, gas stoves, electric lights, cable television, high-speed...fuck. I could rant all day about getting away from it all, but I am still hooked to this goddamn cable modem, and if you took me away from it, I might go into DTs, even in spite of the fact that lately I have let it slide.

Soon, I will go to work and sit in front of a computer for eight hours. And the fulfillment I get from that, you could fit on the point of a pin. So that's likely the source of my desire to escape. Hooray for the holidays.

That was creepy

I gave up on the self-portrait thing up at the top there. It was too creepy. If I want to see pictures of myself, I'll just look at Myspace or something.

I am off to work where work is becoming less like purgation every day. Whether it is moving toward the (probably false) light of redemption or down the abyss of a pure living hell, now that remains to be seen. Still I commute!

Blog as social medium

I'm still here, I guess. I freshened up the look of the place in an assuredly-to-be-futile attempt to write more. I dunno. Is this color scheme too goth looking? There's that camera-phone self-portrait too. If that's not a meta-comment on the absurdity of social media and personal projections on self-image, then I don't know what is.

So. What to talk about now that there's a fresh coat of paint on the walls?

Oh! Did you know that it's National Novel Writing Month? Yeah, I'm not actually doing it. I think it's something that I possibly could do, but why the hell should I? Sure, 50,000 words would be a great accomplishment at the end of a month, but for chrissakes, who needs 50,000 words of rambling, disconnected, Adderall-soaked prose? (I might if I could acquire Adderall, but I'm not exactly in college anymore, and drugs are bad, mmkay?) I tend to agree with Laura Miller. Still, I should be sticking to my goals, which I have been doing a pretty pathetic job of doing. Not a week goes by that I don't try some new method of getting/keeping my shit organized.

Oh well. I ought to get to work on something useful. There's some dirty dishes in the sink. And, oh yeah, there's that book I was thinking about writing. At this pace, I may have 15,000 words by the end of the month. Which ain't exactly a big stinkin deal, but it's still progress, and we all know progress is a good thing.