Flarp!
Here I am once again in the situation of writing in my blog rather than doing homework. I find it a bit odd that to distract myself from writing, I write. How about that.
Apparantly there's a man roaming around Chicago who bares a striking resemblance to me, with the distinct differences being that he is older, sadder, and smokes. The sandwich guy asked me why I was coming back in, as I had been in earlier that day, and as I had apparantly between sandwich visits discovered the ways to make myself younger, happier, and smoke less. I told him that wasn't me, and my friend let me know they had seen this same person on several other occassions, as some of my other friends. I hope to meet this man someday, or at the very least see him from afar and then have Rod Serling step in front of me and begin a monolouge. I think he is my future self come back to prophesize something, or maybe just live the same life he lived before but be able to watch older TV shows. I can see myself being old, sad and smoking. Actually, it's quite a probable outcome now that I think about it. This man is an eerie little premonition. Should I use him as an acceptance of my fate, or should I take it as a sign to try and change so as not to become this sullen man? Or should I just think of it as a silly coincidence that I happened to think about too hard?
I should've asked the sandwich guy what sandwich this man got. That would've made a world of difference.
I've realized recently that this blog may put forward an image of me as a bitter, angry hermit who hates everything. I was initially going to decry this notion with tales of how much I love everyone and how blue the sky is and how much I love Jesus and Easter and fluffy bunny wabbits and how I skip every day with ponies in fields of greenery and sing songs and love my fellow man, but then I realized that maybe this Jack Spencer I put forward on the internet is the true Jack Spencer. If I'm typing my thoughts and feelings and beliefs, how could it not accurately represent who I am? Then I think, shit, I don't want to be this bitter person that I am. So I prop a big smile on my face and glisten my pearly whites into the sun. Then I realize they're really pearly yellows and they're simply competing with the sun, so I go back to my cantankerous frown and sulk until my posture looks as poor as a game of Jenga in the final rounds. And this is usually the mood I'm in when I type. Happiness is never usually a substantial writing piece for me, nor does happen enough for me to write on it consistantly:
"Hey, I'm in a good mood!
Well, I'll post an update tomorrow!"
Then I'd turn into every other fucking blog on Earth; every one of those motherfuckers who updates every six hours with "hey, im doin' cool good big forever" and no content. Bitterness provides me with plenty of content, and if I can get those negative feelings out on here, I'm less likely to bother people with my bullshit in real life. So maybe this makes me a better, happier, more well-adjusted person. Maybe that man is what my life would be like without a blog.
Ha, what bullshit.
Apparantly there's a man roaming around Chicago who bares a striking resemblance to me, with the distinct differences being that he is older, sadder, and smokes. The sandwich guy asked me why I was coming back in, as I had been in earlier that day, and as I had apparantly between sandwich visits discovered the ways to make myself younger, happier, and smoke less. I told him that wasn't me, and my friend let me know they had seen this same person on several other occassions, as some of my other friends. I hope to meet this man someday, or at the very least see him from afar and then have Rod Serling step in front of me and begin a monolouge. I think he is my future self come back to prophesize something, or maybe just live the same life he lived before but be able to watch older TV shows. I can see myself being old, sad and smoking. Actually, it's quite a probable outcome now that I think about it. This man is an eerie little premonition. Should I use him as an acceptance of my fate, or should I take it as a sign to try and change so as not to become this sullen man? Or should I just think of it as a silly coincidence that I happened to think about too hard?
I should've asked the sandwich guy what sandwich this man got. That would've made a world of difference.
I've realized recently that this blog may put forward an image of me as a bitter, angry hermit who hates everything. I was initially going to decry this notion with tales of how much I love everyone and how blue the sky is and how much I love Jesus and Easter and fluffy bunny wabbits and how I skip every day with ponies in fields of greenery and sing songs and love my fellow man, but then I realized that maybe this Jack Spencer I put forward on the internet is the true Jack Spencer. If I'm typing my thoughts and feelings and beliefs, how could it not accurately represent who I am? Then I think, shit, I don't want to be this bitter person that I am. So I prop a big smile on my face and glisten my pearly whites into the sun. Then I realize they're really pearly yellows and they're simply competing with the sun, so I go back to my cantankerous frown and sulk until my posture looks as poor as a game of Jenga in the final rounds. And this is usually the mood I'm in when I type. Happiness is never usually a substantial writing piece for me, nor does happen enough for me to write on it consistantly:
"Hey, I'm in a good mood!
Well, I'll post an update tomorrow!"
Then I'd turn into every other fucking blog on Earth; every one of those motherfuckers who updates every six hours with "hey, im doin' cool good big forever" and no content. Bitterness provides me with plenty of content, and if I can get those negative feelings out on here, I'm less likely to bother people with my bullshit in real life. So maybe this makes me a better, happier, more well-adjusted person. Maybe that man is what my life would be like without a blog.
Ha, what bullshit.
posted by MC Harv at 12:41 AM
7 Comments:
No way, dude, that'd dude would be you f you rocked less.
A lot of people tell me that they've seen, "a white Thomas K," roaming the street. While that's a little confusing in and of itself, I've just decided they don't know what I look like.
-Thomas
"until my posture looks as poor as a game of Jenga in the final rounds."
bril as usual.
yes, this guy is definitely you without a blog.
Thomasina - I know this whitey-white blonde little girl who comes from totally whitey-white parents, but somehow she looks like a little oriental girl. So it's possible.
You gotta free your mind and your ass will follow. I used to be critical of the happy people, until I met a happy, semi-ignorant, but true man. You just gotta realize it's real.
Don't bring Mr. Lollypop Man into this.
You can be happy and not sutpid.
-Thomas
Bite me, broke ass.
I was really tired yesterday morning.
Silly coincidence. Let chicks like me think too hard.
I posted a very similar (but way to long) post on this same thing on Friday (bitter blogging). Then I went back and read it on Saturday and thought exactly what you said, "Ha, what bullshit." Funny.
Jack you don't come off as a bitter angry hermit who hates everything. The tone of your blog comes off as a bitter angry hermit who hates everything, but thats where the Super Happy Fun Time Awesome magic derives from.
keep on hatin' brothah.
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