Do you really need a title for this?

Okay, so I've got nothing else to do.

How to start the second post on this abomination in a semi-pretentious yet down to earth manner.

Fucksake, I thought I left my pretensions to being a writer behind fucking years ago. Apparently not. Although I really am partial to long, laborious sentences peppered with as much sarcasm, cursing and dry intellect as I can muster, who the fuck would talk like this in real life? I don't think I do, but I guess the voice in my head has decided it does.

Right now, I am mulling over the pointlessness of having this blog space. Like I said, no one's meant to read it. Then what the fuck is the point of writing it? Why don't I just keep this shit inside my goddamn head? I really don't know what the attraction is, I've always hated blogging (especially by emo New Age Panty Wearing guys). Not that, *ahem*, I am in fact a New Age Panty Wearing guy. Does "Panty" even work? It sounds kinda like it shouldn't, the way you do NOT get a "Pant" when you cut some pants in half.

Aaaaanyway.

Yeah, that train of thought is gone. Fuck knows what I was gonna write. Oh well. I'll probably be back with more bullshit shortly.

Ah, right. I was thinking about.... a girl. No, make that two girls. Dontcha just hate that shit? You love em you hate em you love em wait now you love two of em you hate them you hate yourself you love one now you love the other fuck why can't you be a hippie and love fucking everyone you love her but then you'd totally hit that you fuckin wanna kill someone... uh just kidding.

The mystery that is the female mind. The mystery of why I insist, time and time again, to fuck things up while the going is good. Although it's probably not too late at the moment, my mind may have slipped into the gutter, but thanks to good old fashioned laziness and slow neurotransmitters bridging my brain and my body, I'm still technically in the clear. But for how long, and to what degree, I have a feeling, will be decided once and for all very soon.

The different time-zone rule. This is the crux of the matter. My conscience is another. I always thought I'd be the one who did "the right thing", but who knows?

More later. Or something.