The Overnight Guy's Journal

So I finally went surfing through a bunch of individual's journals on one of the search engine thingies that hooks up with all the other search engine thingies. And I can't help but not be too impressed. There are some standard love-seekers, lots of bit-droppers, and some pretty obvious lost souls; yes, but nobody is on the edge. I thought that a big part of keeping a damn diary was the introspection and personal revelation generated by writing to yourself. I'm seeing descriptions of facts, situational observances, and "busy updates". Is that entertaining? To hell with the reader, I say, the journal is kept for the writer.

So here's the set up: I kept a paper journal from 1985 to 1996. When it wasn't a record of drunken adventures and naive idealism, it definitely had some merit. I was very unhappy when I finally figured out how the "process" of life works. All of my misguided enthusiasm helped to distract me, but lacking true direction is not always the cakewalk of a free spirit. Sometimes it can really suck to have too much time to invest poorly. But just because a person is busy does not guarantee happiness. Choose your descriptive words carefully, because objectivity is not an opinion.

Life is funny. While in the process of destroying our planet, we are told to believe that by improving ourselves we will improve our world. What is the latest "new and improved" toxic sludge being promoted this week, and how exactly is it going to save the rainforest? They won't answer that question, but they'll have a slick campaign with a catchy slogan and/or a cute kid who'll make you want to believe that the product is based on a wholesome ideal. All elements of marketing and promotion are founded in a selfish and shameless evil. But if you order now...

A hundred great poems, stories and songs alone will not make it better. And even if they could, I wouldn't want them "promoted" as this week's sludge. You see, I lost my faith in the common man a long time ago. People are pretty much stupid and reliant. I quit trying so hard to be a poet when I finally realized that. It should be easier now--I know how to lie. I can even sell things I don't believe in. Hey, I could write a farce poem about how much I love the corporate beast. Yeah, eat me. Slow down, and breathe. I had a point, and here it is: If I do leave any of MY journal entries for you to read, especially new ones, you won't be hearing about my trip to the mall, or new designer clothes, or my talking about how I jog in rush hour traffic. That is all crap; sorry if it offends you. In my journal entries, you will get the meat and the sweet. Side dishes are for people who like to watch themselves write/type/talk. I certainly hope that you won't mind if I don't waste your time. Now get the hell away from me.

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