tumblr_mdcfcyfeNV1rc794ko1_500_largeOh, sorry… were you waiting for someone?

What, you’re waiting for me?

Oh, yeah… er, sorry about that – i guess you’re right – after all, i am the bloggist, this is the blog and i really should be coming up with something to delight, inspire, titillate, fascinate and otherwise wow anybody making the effort to take a few minutes out of their busy schedules to look in and see how i’m doing.


It’s been/being/will certainly continue to be one of those weeks – and, by ‘week’, i don’t mean the one that started Monday, but rather an arbitrary collection of days that collectively adds up to something approximating the sort of timeframe that could be construed as being a week. i’m not going to be tied down by convention here – a week is just gonna be what i decide feels like one: the actual days can go play in the street for all i care.

i won’t bother you with the details – there are many zillions of people, perhaps even some reading this, whose own arbitrary collection of days, possibly adding up to a hell of a lot longer than an approximate week, has been/is/will certainly continue to be… crapper.

Even though ‘things’ are happening and life is generally going on – perhaps more so that i particularly want it to in some areas – i have this revolting and horrible feeling of inexorable waiting – and yes, i do realise that the words ‘inexorable’ and ‘waiting’ are extraordinarily awkward bedfellows, but that sort of uncomfortable juxtaposition somehow matches the feeling that i’m, er… feeling.

Usually when the bloggage repository, (not be be confused with suppository), in what passes for my brain decides to temporarily shut down, it tends to be a case of creative block, (an expression i stole from Whiskey Monday – i hate using ‘writer’s block’ because i just don’t think of myself as a writer… and please don’t argue; because i’m not listening), or plain old disinspiration, (that’s the best i could come up with, nobody seems to think we need an antonym for ‘inspiration’). This time it’s different – much as i hate the expression, particularly since it’s a favourite of somebody whom, it’s fair to say, i have absolutely no SLove for – even though i’m generally a really nice person – over the past arbitrary collection of days, when it comes to the blog, my overwhelming emotion has been one of ‘meh’.



Oddly, although the blogflow has stopped, i have been writing – copiously, in fact – with no trouble whatsoever away from the blog, (no, it’s none of your business!). It just feels that, at present, i’m waiting – for what, i haven’t a clue – and, in the meantime… ‘meh’.

Perhaps it’s just me, but i can’t shake the nauseating feeling that this whole blogging lark is just a touch grubby, and far too overtly sensual to be allowed in polite company. It hasn’t helped that i’ve just finished reading Joe Stretch‘s Wildlife‘ – a book that i simply can’t bring myself to recommend: it’s ugly, obnoxious, weirdly coprophilic, tries far too hard to be satirically amusing and peters out to an anticlimax that puts even American Psycho to shame. Also, anyone without a UK passport is going to find themselves hopelessly floundering – it’s culturally irrelevant to most of the world. That said, it contains some beautifully crafted moments of flesh-creeping critique, that for me at this present moment in time and space, expose the whole self-agrandising, sordid world of the serial blogger, in a way that feels uncomfortably accurate. If ever there was a more damning, and astute exposition of the blogger’s stock in trade, it has to be this extract from one of Roger Hart, the inveterate blogger’s posts…

“I’ve just had to scratch my arsehole cos I got a really bad itch. You know when you have to scratch with a finger using the gusset of your pants? Yeah, well, that’s what I just did. Then I smelt the finger.”

Sums it all up nicely, i’d say.

Interestingly(ish), Wildlife is partially set within a virtual world – named Wow-Bang – and it all starts promisingly enough…

“Crucially, simulated environments like Wow-Bang and Second Life have got little to do with wearing electronic underpants and receiving alarming blow jobs from famous women. No, these places are convincing worlds containing continents, mountains, cities, shops and bars. They are communities. People participate in these virtual worlds in order to enjoy themselves, meet new people, play with existing friends and family and take time out from reality, that is to say, from planet earth, yes, planet earth, where people sob, where sexual organs pong, and where you only die once.”

Stretch then goes on to completely destroy that particular fallacy by demonstrating how his virtual world – and therefore all others, being guilty by association – are populated by angst-ridden teenage emos and griefers and how the virtual world is mainly an excuse to procure a prim zebra phallus and live out rape fantasies, whilst under the virtual influence of virtual narcotics. Which, of course, could very accurately describe a goodly proportion of sl.

As i stumble into the closing sentences of this post, it is with the rather depressing knowledge that i’ve said nothing at all, having managed to string together a few meaningless enotions, (that, by the way is a word i just invented thanks to an earlier typo. Feel free to employ it elsewhere – the meaning should be fairly obvious, if not, invent your own), that are only vaguely connected, and consequently, ultimately, i’ve said nothing of note at all.

Sorry to have wasted your time – you’ll never get those minutes back.

i guess you’re just going to have to wait until i come up with something more worthwhile… which is where we came in.

s. x

John Murphy – The Boathouse

This entry was posted in Philosophicalisticality, Rants, RL, SL, Unlikely stories. Bookmark the permalink.

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