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MY GENERAL INCOMPETENCE NEVER SURPSISES ME BUT THE FACT THAT I HAVE HOPELESSLY GOTTEN LOST IN THE ORDER OF THE EDITING PROCESS, WHICH WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF IT (EDITING OLD STUFF FIRST) MAKES ME FEEL EVEN MORE CONTEMPT FOR MYSELF THAN USUAL. FORTUNATELY NONE OF THIS MATTERS AND I WILL NOT MENTION IT AGAIN SINCE I MENTION EVERYTHING ELSE 2000 TIMES. I have decided to change the name of my blog from Literal Ally (which was originally supposed to be literal-ly broken up until I realized I couldn't spell). I would change it on the title-- I may try later, but I am not sanguine about my prospects for success and someone has probably taken it anyway. Blogg sounds more like a dog or a cat, which is how I regard Blogg. It has occurred to me that one of the great difficulties in keeping this thing going is that there are no people in it besides me, the writer, and fascinating as I am, even I am bored with myself at this point. To allow other people in violates the terms of agreement I signed when I started Blogg.(OTHER PEOPLE? DO YOU HAVE A FRIEND I DON'T KNOW ABOUT?) There are, of course, my four followers (did I tell you I have four now-- I think that means three plus me). I could talk about my feelings that in the month or so I have been doing this I have acCreted one new person and how good/bad that makes me feel or it doesn't matter. I think ultimately it can't matter because then the emphasis shifts to popularity, reality, hits and all that shit, which is what I am alllegedly trying to avoid. And what is the point it is completely besides? I am going to dissect the blog. I am going to masticate it, dessicate it, masturbate it from the inside and out so that anyone who is dumb enough to read the whole thing, assuming it ever ends, will have "blogg" tattooed all over his body and will be regarded as some kind of insane hero by his peers, assuming he has some. One makes no assumptions regarding the social status of anyone who has enough time to piss away reading this in its hypothetical entirety. So I am standing there alone on the stage again. Let me entertain you. I could be sad that I have the time and nothing more important to do than piss it away doing this, or I could go genius, who cares what anybody thinks? but I think I have done that hat trick a few thousand times. It may be that I am actually running out of things to say. I will not, of course, know that for certain until tomorrow, when it is possible I will think of eons of new things. But I do feel a certain frisson of fatigue coming on. I think at some point soon I may require more feedback from the outside world. The radio is now playing a motet called CHRIST RISING FROM THE DEAD. I do not regard this as a coincidence. If any of my four followers, myself included, have any idea how and why to keep this going in a reasonably cheerful manner, could you please let me know asap. As worried as I am about having run out of things to say, as the thought of stopping it makes me feel like a failure. If stopping this makes me feel like a failure what makes me a success, doing it forever and having everyone in the world read it? Reasonable, no? CHRIST RISING FROM THE DEAD. THE HUMILITY SLAYS ME. AS FOR THE REST OF THIS ENTRY WE'VE HEARD IT ALL BEFORE IN LESS INCOMPREHENSIBLE MORE INTERESTING FORM. GO FUCK THE HOLY GHOST.