Yawn

My age-induced periodic insomnia has me work at an obscenely early hour, wondering wheher that will affect the content of what I say, as if there were any. At any rate, getting the no content off your chest early in the morning lightens one's existential load and paves the way for a meaningful day.

There is a subtle (am I capable of being subtle about anything?) difference between part one and part two of blogg which perhaps one or two of my favorite five may have noticed. Attitude when we began: "I'm going to create something as original as Ulyses." Atitude at end of part one when we too a hiatus of a month or so. "This sucks. It's meaningless (meaningless in its meaninglessness in its writing, not the deliberate meaninglessness of the concept). I'm tired and bored and why would anyone in their right mind, or wrong mind, for that matter, want to read this when there are so many other more pleasant, more distracting goodies, many with moving images featuring celebrities available on the web." Atitude upon resumption. "I don't give a fuck. I'm just doing it."

Now that we have that out of the way we might ask ourselves what, precisely, I think I am doing since I have just said that writing about meaninglessness sucks. But that's not completely true. Writing about meaninglessness in a boring way sucks. Writing about meaningless in a perky, interesting way is a sort of meaningful meaninglessness that can affect our perception of prose in general. It also gives me something to do when I get up early. Have you noticed the influence of the hour? I have no boundaries but now it's almost like I have no clock either.

I admitted a few posts ago that I have no real idea (does anyone?) what a blog is and that I was going to look it up on the source of all knowledge, Wikopedia, to find out. I have not done that for a number of reasons, the two most significant of which are that I don't give a shit and I forgot. But I may yet get there so I can gave you the state-of-the-art definition of all you are not getting by reading this.
I wish there were an app where the keys on your computer could be pressed down simultaneously with mine so you could feel the tactile joy of writing this even if has some defects in other departments. It really does feel like you are doing something.

I want to end on a semi-religious note. Most religious services (IDIOTIC GENERALIZATION--I DID THE EDIT SIMULTANEOUSLY WITH THE WRITING, A FIRST) are endless. This does not make them any less stupid but eventually they wear you down to the point where you may say something like, "All right I believe in the fucking Lord. He is a great guy and I am a shit. Can I go home now? Blogg will march on until it hits that apocalyptic moment and I have ruined the lives of millions and possibly brought down Western civilization, or at least the internet. And you, because you were one of the first brave ones to venture down this path,will have the joy of grinning at your friends as they disintegrate because they have no idea of what the fuck is really going on.