EBACK FROM THE MUZZLE

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE OUT OF ORDER AND NOW UTERLY USELESS EDIT.I akipped another day yesterday for personal reasons (that you will never know about, ha). But this was a scarier skip than the previous one-- a why the fuck go on with this, no one is ever going to see it skip.OH MY GOD! I had to pull myself back into the middle ages (literally and figuratively) and remember that there was a time that people wrote things because they wanted to or thought they should be written and sudience was the furthest thing from their mind. Audience was not the furthest thing from my mind when I skipped yesterday, but today I feel a hale and hearty fuck the audience. I have given myself a job to do-- write intelligently and obscurely in a medium I hardly understand- and I am going to achieve my end even if it ends me. Now that I have made that clear, I have nothing to say, which is how things should be. No I do have something to say.I have the determination to say nothing. Nothing is the lack of something. But are particular nothings the lack of particular somethings or are the terms all generic: there is one nothing and one something. I do not know this yet. Perhaps I may discover some clues in the writing of Blogg. Having nothing to say seems to have stopped very few people on the web even though their nothings are allegedly about somethings but anyone with half a brain knows they are just ego-driven bullshit. Blogg is at least open about it, but will undoubtedly be tossed off by all the people writing critical things on twitter. Blogg will stick around for a while like one of those melodies you don't really like or don't like. but just can't get out of your head. It will not die for lack of substance. It may die for lack of trying, but I have jumped another hump and perhaps with each hump I jump the job gets a tad easier. Or not.CAN I STOP POINTING OUT INCOMPREHENSIBILITY AND JUST LEAVE IT THERE TO ROT. IT'S A BORING EDIT.