I don’t want a pickle.

Well it’s been about five years now that I have been writing this dumb blog.  You know, it’s amazing that someone could get away with writing a blog this dumb for that long. But you know what’s more amazing than that is that someone can making a living writing a blog this dumb. But, that’s America.


Alas, I have never made a dime off of this blog, though I know that some folks out there do. I haven’t really the faintest idea how they do that, but I guess that was really never what this was about so I never thought to look into it.


Actually, I suppose five years is not entirely true since I changed the thing when we moved to where we are now, but really that is just the face of it. I think the underlying nonsense is still essentially the same.

A lot has happened in that five years, the move not the least of it. Fencing, fighting, chases, escapes, true love… So far as I know, no one has been murdered by pirates though.

Life and death, depression, art, music, a little bit of science and half-baked philosophy, not to mention more than one near miss with religion/spirituality and at least one identity crisis (hahahahah, at least one!). Poetry and pondering. Aspirations, dreams, a certain amount of giving up, and a whole lot of trying to surrender to the flow. I even tried playing a game, with what I naively envisioned as “interested followers.” Good times.


I have not been nearly as active in my writing here as I once was and I miss it terribly. But somehow, I just have not had the drive to actually write much. Perhaps it is the meds. Perhaps it is the change in environment. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Regardless, what a long strange trip it has been and there is so much left to say. So much left to do. Not sure how much anyone else out there cares, but for my own self at least, I would like to work at this more… Yet, I have very little sense of direction, kind of like a motorcycle out of control, plummeting down a cliff. Like I said, I don’t want a pickle…



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