Like the dead-beat beat of the tom-tom

Listening to: Swans, Great Annihilator

In my intrepid pursuit of garnering nil traffic, I've decided that no updates are the best updates. Seems to have worked and thank God because I can't handle the comments, pain in the ass you all are, both of you. Considering both comments encouraged to me to keep not writing, I feel validated for doing nothing.

The blogosphere is something else, a place where a stale slice of intellectual Wonder Bread holds peanut butter and banality in the service of staying updated, rewarded with insipid tea ("Ha ha, I know what you're saying!") to wash down every inane syllable. Thus gingivitis, driving in Denver, Lilly's dance recital, a tenth planet and the ratio of anti-social assholes to single women over 30 who own dogs (and how that pisses off the religious right), means I've nothing to say and no inclination to say it, my dimwitted plan spinning like a floaty in the bowl towards oblivion.

I'm back, yo - live with it.