Introspection

Yeah, I'm pretty sure introspection is a word. I hope it means what I think it means, but it sounds cool regardless. Sorry for leaving this place so empty for a while, things have been all over the place in my life lately which has fueled my penchant for procrastination and general malaise. French is yummy.

I'm not really sure what I have to say right now, but the emptiness has been plaguing me and I feel a desperation in my soul to fill it.

I wanted to write an article about my thoughts on how we're slowly breeding the world into an irreparable stupor, but it's just too damned depressing right now.

I also considered a religion rant, but I just can't work up the anger, or the creativity at the moment.

They will come, I'm sure, but for now I just need something here to motivate myself again.

So I'm cranking some "Uncle Sam Goddamn" (if you haven't heard it, go listen, some serious knowledge in that thing) and just writing whatever I can think of as I go along.

My novel's going well. 134 pages now and the story is growing exponentially beneath my fingers. It's something magical really, this feeling of the creation creating itself. It's a feeling I've somehow never managed to quite capture with my songwriting. Or my poetry. Just something about narrative, be it short story or novel, seems to really tap the creative centre of my brain. A lot of it is self-exploration, a desire to use my writing to not only live vicariously through others, but explore ideas, concepts, conversations and feelings that I either haven't come across in the world, or have never truly understood myself. It's like therapy, but the right person gets paid in the end (insert emoticon to indicate tone).

That is one thing I hate about writing though, especially in this medium. So much can be lost in the coldness of words. I'm a very dry and sarcastic person, often to the point where even someone I'm conversing with will mistake sarcasm for truth. Doubly so when I'm writing. I hear what I write with expression and flow equivalent to some horror child of Kanye West, Eminem and Dylan (Thomas, or Dylan, Bob), with TS Eliot's dry wit and Stephen King's conversation prose. But like the drunk beat-boxer, I'm probably just dribbling shit into a mic.

I don't care what you think, Dubstep gets my blood pumping and my drive foot knocking down laws turkey style (ten pin bowling 1% joke). Here's some dubstep ridiculousness for you all to enjoy:

You're Welcome!


I think my irony timer just expired.

I'm wrapping this up before we end up serving the emperor tea and biscuits Vader style. So I shall bid you adieu, insert witty comment here, ironic reference, pause for effect...

Stay classy, San Diego!