The Day After Yesterday.

I went on a training / team building session yesterday and realised suddenly that i am either a lot older or i have finally achieved the pinnacle of cynacism. Either way, I am distressed.

While trying to keep my mind from taking trips down to bodacious babe land whence the candy is bountiful and the garments not, I was conciously (somewhat) belittling everything being said and everyone around me. This is now haunting me; have I become so small minded as to assume that I am infinately superior and more knowledgable (somewhat, yes, infinately was planned for about 2020)? Have I aged beyond the point where I am interested or facinated by anything? In either scenario, the will to live has just taken a major (I am talking Enron proportions) stock market plunge.

I sat awake for a large portion of the sleeping portion of the night, which to me is miniscule at best, trying to remember the last time I was excited about something... I did a few laps accross the bed during my mental excavation, consumed 3 or 4 thousand calories worth of triple chocolate cookies, felt guilty, did 127 push ups and innumerable bicep curls... Zilch, nada, nossing, the big zippo. So, I started worrying that my long term memory was shot, alzheimer's, brain cancer, lung cancer, nether region cancer, low sperm count.... Alarm.

There is a moral to this... but that escapes me right now.

Ferociously Fixatedly Fiending

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to bring you an urgent news bulletin;

Titanium, adamantium, unobtainium, me... I am not made of metal people, I have needs too. Actually, strike that, I have one need, one all permeating, uber consuming, omnipresent, libido driven need.

I am, and have been as far back as I can remember, an insomniac, I have trouble falling asleep, and when I do manage to go under, rarely do I go all the way. Fact of life, adapt and move on. Only recently (say 3 months or so), I have not been able to sleep for pine cones, and its all down to craving.

Scenarios painted by my subconcious, fleeting regrets, midnight walking sprees and 3 am cold showers, all have contributed to the prolifieration of hefty bags under my eyes. This has got to stop!!!

I wonder if they make emotional botox?

Now that we are toasty

I knew, as I do in my omniwisdom, that there were a lot a spotlight hogging individuals out there who have made little nests of verbatim in the various nooks provided by the world wide whine, I did not, in my loftiness, realise to what depths they would submerge their blackened souls to ensure readership.

All manner of trickery, crass incentives and pan handling are being proliferated on the pages created by these hucksters with the sole purpose of stoking (or stroking) their fragile egos, I find this a slight counter to the flagstaff of the blogger nation; Individualism and fearless self expression. These are forums run by Stephen Covey clones. Sell, sell sell.

To the disappointment of the lifeless parasites amongst you, I will not be engaging in these low brow commercialism pursuits to foster in myself the illusion that I am in somehow superior by rewarding the net pedestrian for ignoring the prose scribed upon these digital pages and reaching instead for the box of vitamin enriched freebies. I know I am good, I don't need your hits or comments, if you don't like it leave, the purveyors of the gratis are personae non grata.

First person to leave a comment gets an autographed picture (shown here).

Here Goes Nothing...

And a very warm welcome to me. A little bit about the brain behind the blog is in order I think;

Now, I have been writing insidious pieces of prosaic prose ever since I was knee high to a grasshopper, it's a calling which I need to come to grips with... Hence, this little intrinsic and self centred forum.

I am a true child of the millennia, which is to say that I have no beliefs save for the generic phobias (don't eat anything, drink anything and everyone is out to do you in), I also possess very little in the way of loyalties, I disdain patriotism, fundementalism, favorite foods and have an attention span akin to that of a fish (just ask any of my previous girlfirends). I do however hold a near and dear place in the old blood pump for good intellectual palavar (the last word means talk, refer Steven King's Dark Tower series).

I am the proud owner of an above average IQ, a large underachiver complex and a collection of self reflecting / depreciating writings that would put the world's greatest hypochondriacs to awe, I am a surface stoic with an internal consistancy of a hershy bar left out in the nevada wasteland.

I enjoy arguing with people, even on points of fundamental universal constants, just to prove to myself that I hold the power to convince, or failing that, to confuse.

Intro's done, this is the bit where I call upon the solemn intellectuals of ubercyberspace to pose questions, post comments or posse up a lynchin' party... go ahead, make me fray.