It’s not often that I post about something political, or something in the really real world for that matter, but it’s also not often that I am there, in the moment when a global event takes place and a new meme is created. I’m talking about covfefe.
recently finished the first in the Darren Shan series, Cirque De Freak so I thought I would share my opinion of it, because who isn’t tired of opinions on the Internet nowadays, right? Nobody. That’s who. You’d have to be an ordinary human with no distinguishing features whatsoever to be bored of opinions.
I had a dream where I was in a massive, luxurious penthouse style suite in a Las Vegas hotel, only it was in Kyoto. I lay on the low level, purple leather couch and watched a movie on the huge screen in front of the windows. The windows had a lovely view of the entire city from a few dozen floors up. I could see everything of the central area. As I watched the movie, I became aware of slow movement that wasn’t on the screen.
I feel like god staring down at planet Earth and going “Why American people, why?” On seeing their chosen leader. What has happened to the world? I mean, I know people live with a hair trigger on their tempers, and seem to feel threatened by anything different to them but I hadn’t realized it had spread to them being fearful of upsetting others too.
When I started my big social media push back in October, I made new accounts for a lot of sites. Twitter, Instagram, DeviantArt and Facebook were the first.
Insomnia, something that happens to other people. Now, I’m another person. It’s one of those things that I thought was cool when I was growing up (yay, more time to watch my favourite tv shows and movies) but turns out to be pretty harrowing in reality.
I hate myself. I know this because of my dreams. For most people I think dreams are where they do fanciful, amazing things, but in my dreams I am just as tied down by the weight of reality as I am when I am awake (whether or not we are ever actually awake is another argument altogether).
A new born baby moves like a time lapse of a plant growing: shaky, unsure, testing, searching for the one thing it instinctually needs, and that is…
I never wrote about my birthday. I was in a bit of a bad mood about it, lamenting it like an aging hippy because it’s been a pattern for the last few years that nothing ever happens on my birthday and I feel bad for it. Either I have no one around because it’s in Golden Week, a string of public holidays when most people travel, or my friends or usually family don’t do anything for it.
Why does no one give a shit about writing? I want to know. I know that people are out there giving shits, some of them all sparkly wrapped and awesome.