blogs are weird.

As a scion of the internet era, it would stand to reason that I own and operate a blog. In fact, in starting this blog, I leave my first blog in my wake. If I focus I can see it off in the distance, wheezing and malnourished. It was a twisted experiment in the vein of Frankenstein's monster. It was the dreaded music blog. A fucking music blog. My mom has a fucking music blog now. My dogs have music blogs. There is nothing to be had in a music blog. You post a link and maybe a little description of what you think about the album above. It is a thankless and possibly dangerous profession-- I'm sure you've all heard of the guy who posted the Guns et Roses album and the FBI sunk his fucking battleship. What a horrible thing to go to jail for. To be sodomized day in and day out for posting a middling piece of fucking shit is to languish in some hell I can only dream about. After repeated e-mails from the semi-polite and vaguely threatening WEBSHERRIF, I decided enough was enough. Fuck the WEBSHERRIF and fuck my music blog. However, I should note that I still love music blogs like bolachas and iamrare, but it just isn't for me. I'll leave it to the professionals with premium rapidshare accounts and an unerring sense of moral justice.

There is something strange about blogging without links to music preceded by superficial thoughts about said linked music. There were very few personal posts on my wretched music blog. If you think about it, blogs that aren't about music are about--for better or worse-- the author. I am free to blog about puppies, my favorite recipes for vegan eggnog or how tough it is to retain my sense of uniquity as a middle-aged housewife deteriorating in suburbia. They are diaries 2.0. Fuck pen and paper. There are no tiny heart-shaped locks on this blog. No equally tiny keys (that always get lost). There is no fear of repercussion because you don't know me. If someone were to find a physical diary, say, in my room, then some shit would go down because they would know the author and they would read all the mean things I had to say about them. I'm hoisting the blessed anonymity of the internet as one may hoist a shield. From behind this shield I am not only able to, but prepared to scream about all the shit that flows through my physiologically sound, psychologically disturbed mind. Let this blog be your conduit to someone far more interesting, unique, handsome, and generally pissed off than you are--me.