How do you stay faithful in a room full of hoes?

It's question day, sponsored by Kanye. That rhymes.

From this point forward, your measured approval of this blog post will only decline.

It took me being in this curiously strange mood to look at this large mug I stole from the Hofbräuhaus in München to think, "I should drink outta that." How is that possible? Most of the time I think, "Oh, that's right," or, "Oh, that's right, I'm awesome," when I see it. Never anything in regards to its utility. Maybe I just wasn't thirsty enough. ...Now there's an apt metaphor for you. Full circle I just went and I bet you didn't even catch it! That's a fucking conclusion, Stu! Maybe you just don't know it! When I go three exclamations in a row, I like to make it four!

A) Moods are so stupid! (Or five.) I put myself in this mood! If I want to be like this forever, I could be! Right now, I want to be able to look at every glass ever and realize that I can and, more importantly, should drink out of it. I could've drunk out of it this whole time. Also: am I going to drink out of it? I'm not sure. It's quite large. If she said that, she was probably lying to you.

B) Are we capable of watching ourselves? Are we capable of both knowing what's about to happen next, it still happening, and thwarting it?

Do I like Phil Collins? I have two ears and a heart, don't I?

'My friend Stu' was talking to me the other day about this blog. I really like it when he does that; he generally has nice things to say about it and getting him to stroke my ego is harder than pulling teeth. He's also quite a good writer. Now that I think of it, I feel similarly about his writing (what little I've seen of it) as he does about mine: it's a bit removed. He remarked on how I never use names and how I blatantly cannot conclude things; he suggested that it was because I never fully commit in the first place. My retort was that my blog is my thoughts -- generally not a concrete replay of events -- and therefore no real conclusion can be written, as my thoughts on most issues don't have any real resolution in sight. He made some convincing arguments about how that's not entirely true -- if thoughts don't come to a resolution in your head, you'll be bothered by them until you sort your shit out. In addition, he inadvertently challenged me to end my next post with a legitimate conclusion. Hopefully you'll find a satisfactory one at the end of this page. Though, as of this juncture, I know not. I hope future me doesn't let present me down.

This seems like a useful segue into the 'why I don't mention people' topic. For the record, addressing this seems unnatural and against the grain. But, alas, the reasons are fourfold:

a) If I mentioned people by name, talked about the shit they said and did, it'd be like telling stories. It'd be like listening to myself talk, which I do all the time and have no desire to do any more of. I do not, however, get to listen to myself think (insomuch as you can't really hear yourself speak) -- and that's how I feel it doesn't quite fit into this blog. What's more, I'm pretty sure that if I did quote-unquote tell stories, I would bore the shit outta myself. I have this dreaded fear of being boring; or, at least, people finding out that I am. Maybe you already knew? If so, thanks for not telling me. You're welcome for returning the favor, probably. Burn!

b) If I mentioned people by name, I would feel obligated to explain what they are like. Not doable. There are people I am around all the time that I couldn't answer the simplest of questions about. With anything resembling confidence, at least. I have a hard time fitting people into boxes, giving them adjectives. Giving them adjectives with any sticking power. I could talk about what they say and do, sure, but that's not really writing about them. Not writing about them in the respect they deserve.

c) If I mentioned people by name, I would feel obligated to explain how I feel about them or how I feel around them. Not doable. Though I suppose doing 'b' would greatly allude to doing 'c'--therefore letting 'c' off the hook--I still feel like it would be the cyber-elephant in the cyber-room. In order for things to make it into my blog, they have to be truthful and I have to find them interesting. Any of my thoughts regarding other people that meet those two requirements are generally not blog-acceptable. A story Charlie told me about 'feeling shame for your words' has been on my mind a bit lately. I don't think it's shame in this circumstance. It's a little fear, maybe some cowardice, sure, but it's more general practicality. I think you get it.

d) I don't explain people in my thoughts to myself. Doing so in my blog would be out of character, if my blog could possess that.

The only reason I dislike Lori Singer is because of that one scene in 'Footloose' where she needs band-aids over her nipples.

I didn't drink out of the mug. Yet.

I'm gonna go drink outta the fucking mug.

It's so big it's burdensome. But I regret not my decision. It would've been an enjoyable experience had my maid not thrown out my only goddamn straw. As it stands, it's merely moderately remarkable, solely due to its size and nothing else. That's right.

It's about that time. If I address the conclusion in my conclusion, does that negate the necessary conclusion-ness of said conclusion?

I'm gonna try to give people names. I'm gonna try to put myself in strange moods more often. I'm gonna try to look at things and drink out of them, straw or no straw. I'm gonna try not to talk in crappy New Year's Eve resolution-al metaphors. At least, until the next Kanye lyric that strikes me or the next picture that makes me sad I'm too young to know anything about hotter, younger Alec Baldwin. I'm gonna try to get those dudes that never told me they had the hots for me to tell the next guy to balls up. I'm gonna try to not walk out of parties without saying goodbye. I'm gonna try to not split infinitives. I'm gonna try to do small things until they don't feel big anymore. And I'm gonna try to cook pumpkin sometime, I think. I'll at least let you know how that one goes. I might even give the pumpkin a name.

xoxo,

J