Blogblogblogblabblahblab - the truth is (sic) I have as much or as little to say as any other serpent slithering around in the cyber garden. So this slight sense of shame I feel as I erect this thing (and there should always be shame in conjunction with erect things) has to be coming from an external source. Something downloaded into my consciousness whereby - if you have opinions and express them you think you're better than everyone else! Nevermind what those opinions are. Tall poppy syndrome in this motherfucker. I detest that symptom of mental fragility as much as I do any of the others - but more. Because this one is a cultural endemic meaning that there is a slight, very small chance ... that it might affect me as well. Even I, in all my wondrous power, am not immune to culture and it's insidious, night-time advances. It's offerings of sweets from a tinted van. Rational thought is cool and all but sweets are something else again...
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Who are they though? These bloggers. These fellow victims. And where do they come from? What do we have in common with one another? Are they all as hopelessly insular and self absorbed as myself? And if so is every blog entry pretty much the same, in spirit, with only a few minor superficial differences to seperate them; Here I am! Take Notice of my Existence Please. Thanks. XO.
I hope that's not what I'm saying here, or anywhere, my vanity doesn't like the thought but in saying that - fuck my vanity. Deluded monkey never really did anything for me. I made this thing, this place, this zoo because I was inspired to move my cargo, my loads, my endless supply of double-sided rhetoric and monologues of psychoanalysis somewhere I could control. Every other thing I've written online has been some kind of social networking decoration. Something to do as I waited for Youtube to load. But here! Here will be different. Less restrained probably, knowing myself as I tentatively, hesitantly do. Vulgarity isn't synonymous with evil - I'm uncertain who is responsible for that particular misconception but he/she/they should probably be spayed by scorpions.
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Oh! And my names Lyle by the way. It is my real name, it is, and I rather like it. Far better than a John or Tofiga or any of the other names floating around my inner circle. My inner circle! I have friends - lots of them. I have no idea who they really are, not really, but the faces they show me are nice enough and they can speak enough of my language to warrant me downgrading and speaking theirs from time to time too. Hoho, but seriously now. I have a brother who is Gay, showtunes whistling pillow-kisser, but he is okay for all of that. Another who looks EXACTLY like me, but is less pretty somehow. Two sisters - demons/harpies, really. A Mother who is pale - secret shame of the family, and a Father who knows more about pop culture than I do. Also another brother who decided this world was passe and flew the coop, kicked the bucket, bought the farm and took a dirt nap, all. His name was Alex. He was pretty cool :) Now we know one another. I am Lyle. And you are someone else entirely. Well met!
Blog, the first! Thank Allah that's over. My youtube vid has loaded now. Piece out bitches <3
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