Delicate Soul, Noble Brow

Thought Log

Dear Diary,
I thought you might be interested in some of my thoughts this morning.

1. 6:14 A.M. My lower eyelid is twitching. Sheesh. Make it stop.

2. 7:32 A.M. I'm beginning to be disallusioned with this whole blogging thing. I don't think that even it can make me important. Plus, Ben is so much better at it than I am and that's really no fun.

3. 9:07 A.M. There's something in my sock. Down in the end sort of pressing on my toe. Maybe it's just twisted a little funny.

4. 9:08 A.M. Okay. How did an old marshmallow get in my sock.

5. 10:10 A.M. I hate blogging. "Sometimes it's good to go where everybody knows your name," but not if they don't take you seriously and refuse to appreciate the amount of time and energy that I put into creating a blog entry that is really all for them. I stopped doing this for me a long time ago. This is for your benefit and you persistently. . . where's my kid. I need a hug.

6. 10:15 A.M. I had a good run. I really did. There was a stretch there where I was feeling big and important. People read me. I mean, they checked to see what I had to say every day. Who cares if it sucked, they were watching.

7. 10:40 A.M. I am very angry. Two friends walked out of 'Kill Bill' last night and told me that if anyone I knew liked it, I could spit on them with impunity. This upset me. I'll back Quentin anyday against their back woods notions of world view. Nit wits. They did admit that he used my 'f' word idea.

8. 11:06 A.M. My toddler son is hitting his mother. What has this to do with me? I'm busy. Thinking. Deep thought, quick. Act you didn't see Nate. Let the wifie fend for herself. She probably started it. Plus, it's good blog training for him. He's already better at wearing his emotions on his sleeve than I'll ever be, with my tattered and broken spirit. I mustn't damage that in him like my father did to me.

9. 11:47 A.M. This is a personal attack on someone. I just don't know who, but they probably do. [Appropriate person, insert your name for Roger's. He's not real. He's fictitious. But if he reminds you of yourself. . . well, you know better than I do] Roger you nit! Nobody likes you!

10. Blogging has beaten me. I'll admit it. I've never been one for endurance. I don't think I've ever finished a game of Monopoly. But I think I've made a lot of new friends, met some people. But I really can't play anymore. I hurt my ankle. Tomorrow I'll strap on an aircast and limp on the wrong foot. And my wife is calling me in to eat lunch. Bye guys!

Sincerely

N.D. "Pudgiest Pants" Wilson

Posted by nddub at October 13, 2003 12:44 PM