Monday, November 05, 2007

This is how your day is going to go.

You’re going to have some trouble getting out of bed. It’ll be cold and windy and you will be too lazy to crawl to the end of the bed to find your kicked-to-the-floor quilt. You will lay there under a sheet shivery and madly dream fantasising about impossible men for two hours with your alarm clock going off every nine minutes. Nothing in the whole rest of your day will compare to those dream fantasies and you will spend the whole day wanting to lie down and curl up into them. You will, reluctantly, get up at midday and shower. At this point it will seem like you might do something with your day. This is a delusion and it will not last. You will sit on the computer, playing on the internet and wishing you had some real friends so that you could ignore them instead, while drinking endless cups of tea and eating miniature crunchies until you run out. You’re clever enough to never run out of tea but the crunchies will eventually become an issue.

You will continue sitting at the computer but will contemplate lying on the couch. An afternoon nap seems like a good idea but naps make you cranky so you’ll hold out as long as possible. Oh, those dream boys, how they beckon. A part of you thinks you might still get something done and you know that there’s plenty of stuff that you ought to do but it all seems like too much effort. You half wish that you were sick as an excuse for being this lazy but at worst your body is still processing all of last night’s chemicals – those nachos were one hell of a mistake but you could totally go them again.

You will start to resent the sun shining and will continue to resent the wind blowing and blowing and blowing and for fuck’s sake stop with the blowing and blowing.

You will start writing as an excuse not to do anything else. You will call this being creative and will write a terribly boring post about your very dull day in a style that is, quite frankly, as irritating as it is stolen. You won’t repent though and you will post this mess. You’ll write some more crap first but it’ll only be filler, you’ll know it and your three readers will know it. You think that maybe they deserve better but hey, you’re not holding a knife to their throat, they can leave if they want to but no, they keep reading, there’s nothing bloggers like better than a train wreck of a post.

You will spend some more time thinking about chocolate and boys who don’t even know you exist and of interesting ways of combining the two. You will share this thought with as many people as possible because, well, you really haven’t anything better to do. You will be amused by the fact that one of those boys may even read the post but figure that if he makes it to the end he’s probably insane anyway. You will be even more amused by the fact that someone somewhere just got very frightened by the previous sentence. And that someone else probably thinks they know what you’re talking about, just exactly what you’re talking about. Hell, they may even be right but you’ll play the sphinx and never really let on, well, maybe a little but it’ll be a game and you’ll play it like a pro.

You will really regret eating that last crunchie so soon in the day. You’ve run out of ideas, well, not so much ideas but the energy to write them and will, possibly just keep writing until you reach a convenient mid-point in a sentence and then you’ll just drop and publish without another thought. You’ll publish with flaws and all because you can’t be bothered proofing. People are pretty used to this by now anyway. Sometimes you think –

17 comments:

Dan said...

I read this. To the "end". Ive decided to elongate it:

-that people will feel like they need to finish what you are writing, because they are slightly OCD and can't wrap their pitiful minds around an unfinished sentence. Maybe they will even enjoy the fact that you, dear writer, gave them something to do, if only for a few minutes. Sitting around in an empty apartment. Stripped underpants covered with a black cat and shadow. Doritos calling from the other room, he takes a few minutes to-

nailpolishblues said...

- hoist up his saggy underwear and hunt down those Doritos. Hell, the internets aren't any fun without cholesterol and sugar and waaay too much salt. He'll be back in just a second, checking checking checking for something new, somewhere, anywhere. Any minute now he'll find a blog with -

Dan said...

-comments about his underpants that are false. They seem to fit just fine. He should be having a sensory overload any moment due to the following stimuli assaulting his sensory organs:

* Metalocalypse on the TV
* "Ire Works" by The Dillinger Escape Plan through the speakers
* Never ending 1's and 0's from the internet
* Articles he is reading from Decibel magazine and Skin & Ink magazine
* Doritos

Oh, how he wishes his plans came through and he was with a fair maiden. Maybe he should-

nailpolishblues said...

- get up and spastic dance around his living room to New Order. His underwear had better be well fitting for this activity as he jumps and bounces and man pirouettes about the room. Or maybe his best option would be to make sure his door is well shut and spent a few private moments with his imagination and his fair maiden. Though, to be fair, it's more than likely that -

Dan said...

-he will end up masturbating with his Dorito-encrusted left hand. It doesn't matter, in the long run. Not while someone on the other side of the world is out of crunchies. Maybe said person should-

Dan said...

(this is actually difficult for me, because I don't know the first thing about writing.)

nailpolishblues said...

(first rule of writers club - those who can, do; those who can't teach and/or blog) (second rule, never let the truth stand in the way of a good story)

nailpolishblues said...

- munch instead on something with less sugar and more substance before she topples into a diabetic coma. And possibly point out to her crunchily wanking friend that she's euphemistically mentioned masturbation already and maybe it's time that they both get their minds out of their well fitting pants. Still, panting would be -

Dan said...

-a glorious, euphoric, and wet bit of sport on this otherwise wasted day. Methinks both brow-beaten writers need to get new hobbies. Perhaps knitting? Too boring. Maybe sky-diving? The expense doesn't really say "hobby". We could try-

nailpolishblues said...

- walking the streets screaming our desperation, of all kinds, to the stars and starlets and to every last one of the poseurs sitting in cafes waiting to be noticed by the bored heaving masses who walk on by doing their chores and focussing on being downtrodden. However,it seems more likely that -

Dan said...

-we will wallow in our abodes, wishing for the freedom that is there, but we never reach for it. The richness of life swims in our vision, and we look the other way. We sit in chairs rather than walk in the sun. Are we trapped, or are we-

nailpolishblues said...

- trapped or are we trapped in our own heads with little else to do with our times and lives being, as we are, the spoiled children of an over-priviliged, about to be totally screwed, generation who has lapped up every one of the lies sold to them about the world, about who they are, and about what they could be. Possibly, I am simply being cynical and stupidly dramatic because my cup is empty and because tea -

Dan said...

-is a diuretic. Pee pee pee your boredom away.

OK, we need more people to do this. My brain is no longer functioning. At least for now. Perhaps I'll go make myself some tea as well.

nailpolishblues said...

Yeah, this would have been way better id other people had joined in. Fuckers.

Go have some tea.

Winter said...

Hey, that exchange in the comments was pretty awesome, well played guys! (I'd join it, but I have no idea where the story stopped.)

Also, that first paragraph is eerily similar to how I spent my day.

nailpolishblues said...

I think it pretty much stopped with Dan's hand down his pants.

;)

colonel eggroll said...

"he will end up masturbating with his Dorito-encrusted left hand"

God, I almost just died laughing.

Well played.