These blogs are pretty naked. I'll be straight (not squiggly) with you, I feel like I am stripping. The gauntlet is thrown and I am hidden behind a transparent frame, call me Ishmael, but is this all that necessary? Perhaps to some perplexed or deeply impressionable audience there might be something extracted from my phrase, something meaningful.
Overall I feel redundant and narrow-purposed. My own joy is derived from a selfish attraction towards self-aggrandizement, the cultivation of a mind filled with dead-end axon terminals and torn synaptic gaps. I am the agent of my own conspiracy, the tyranny and embezzlement of Dan's trusty department store of facts.
Well, I hope I can see Godot arrive before we all perish by the writhing cusp of our own sanity.
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