There’s something to be said about those close to me, or used to be close to me, who keep my name in their mouth; like they know what they’re talking about. What you know about somebody while you are with them is all it is. That’s it. That’s all. No before. No after. There’s no thereafter or pre-dated history that anyone could make a comment on. Caveman drawings? Unless they were there. Ah, you invented the wheel, got it. I’ve broached this subject before, and in light of current events, it’s clear I must reiterate a couple points. Point one. My posts are not about you. If you think they’re about you, then A. You’re arrogant and delusional. Hmmm… Drugs are bad, knock it off Or B. Even if a post has similarities -relatable to you- no one else would even know unless you put it out there. Self- shaming in public? Don’t monkeys throw poop on the streets of some exotic place? And C. If B applies to you then please refer to A. because… nobody cares. Especially me. But it definitely makes it entertaining for all of us! Monkeys and poo are always funny… Oooo, poopoo flinging bongo monkey.
A writer, writes from experiences. Yes. But can also elaborate, dream, be grandiose… and even -get this- use their imagination- to give a story, fullness. Direction. Crowd-drawing interest. And even Make shit uppery! I know. Crazy right! For one to believe that all stories I write are about them, in any way, is both ridiculous and hilarious. With all I have going on, my outlet is here. On my blog. For me. For you. For pure entertainment. There is most times, a very small, factual basis, with which I draw; however, this isn’t my end all/be all for my content. I’m a creator. It’s involved and always evolving. It’s Like I’m a literary butterfly. And a cocoon. With the larva… And the sticky icky cocoon larva journey thingie… webbed up on the branches of a tree… You get the idea. Right. Moving on…
So dear friends… Laugh at what you read. I do. I laugh at myself all the time. And, as Im sure grandpa gets a few good laughs off, when he bought the largest bottle of liquor -and only that bottle of liquor- at the grocery store yesterday… while babysitting his little granddaughter. At 9:30 am
. Literally throwing money at the cashier. Grumpy drunk ass. Smdh. Travesty. Guess he needed that drink. But hey, I could assume all sorts of things. I’d, mostl likely, be dead on thougj… in that particular accident, waiting to happen. But, alas, most of the time; you just gotta take it at face value. We all post on social media in a proverbial codec to convey our feelings in some way. A DOS faction of words to elude and protect those who remain unnamed…. Not that they deserve it; But, you feel me. And Instead saying, I took a poo today. One would opt for, my toilet cried a whole hour this morning. And it is no ones job to interpret those posts, internalize them, nor is it the responsibility of anyone to stalk said postings and try to go all… Inspector Gadget. James Bond? Lego Ninjago?
One thing you should never do though? If you post a comment, talking shit… Deleting it -with the misconception that I won’t see it…when my email notifies me- it is more cowardly and embarrassing for you than owning up to it. Bottom line… Haha bottom. Be entertained. Enjoy life. And LAUGH. Being a martyr never got anyone anywhere… Eeyore. Foghorn Leghorn. Squidward. Gosh, feels so elementary school, doesn’t it? Neanderthal.