Bad news, friends: I’m losing interest in this blog. I never want to write in it anymore. I’d rather play chess online or drink a beer or do pushups or go for a walk or run stairs or cut myself or do anything but write in this blog. Does that mean I don’t like writing anymore? Oh, dear. Think of the consequences if writing all of the sudden stopped appealing to me. I would have to start listening to Muse and drinking Keystone Light. I’d have to get those Adidas shoes with the toe cap that looks like a shell and — oh, fuck… have to start longboarding.
But maybe I don’t hate writing altogether. Maybe I’m just going through a slump. That’s the thing about me: I go through phases. One day I’m completely obsessed with something, the next day I could care less about it. This is, I think, the main reason (not to too my own horn here) I’m decent at everything but AMAZING at nothing. I get obsessed with things, master to them to a point I’m comfortable with (i.e. to the point where I say to myself, “OK, if I did this a fuck ton I bet I could get really good at it. But I’m not going to.), and then I move onto something else.
One of my current obsessions is rowing. I am taking a beginner’s rowing course at the Lake Union Rowing Club, and it’s awesome. We haven’t really even actually rowed yet, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to become obsessed with it. I’m going to by spandex pants and wear pink polo shirts and walk around making sexist jokes and peering at girls asses from behind my Ray-bans.
Yea.
F your F.