No, thank you.
Yep. That being what Johnathan Pryce says in the film... I can imagine a basis for your distaste. I don't even have to be churlish. I tried watching the supposed follow up, I can't even remember the name, and I just COULD NOT get into it.
I'm just generally opposed to watching screenys these days. I may get back into the swing of it. It could happen. Things changed a lot in the last 36 hours ago or so--now that I am no longer on either watch list, Country -OR- Western--and I guess, I can, like, start visualizing what the component parts are going to be.
I would simply prefer not to for the time being. But I can. Just like, say, watching a movie. I -could- watch a movie. But, I would simply prefer not to. Real life has become ever so much more interesting and fascinating than ever before, although one would, from the outside, not be too blamed for thinking that I am having it pretty rough. On the contrary: exalted grace.
Doing great. Feeling fine. Now, don't get me wrong--I stopped drinking. Pink cloud is real. Not that I drink a whole lot anyway, but I don't drink often, and the last few weeks, well, I haven't had to do any driving, right? No where to go, nothing to see... may as well get plastered, wooooo--*cough* oh, right, I'm fucking old now. After a mere two or three weeks of guzzling nothing but cider, wine, and raw meat--well, cold, anyway--I will freely admit that, wow, what a waste of money, and eewww, gross, look at the bags under my eyes. Holy shit. Am I actually vain? Or do I really look like Hunter Biden -already-? Okay, so: fuck that.
It helps that I have no reason to numb my emotions--at all--so a return to normal human feeling accompanied by an actual return to normalcy, such as that may be, is willing to be embraced by my poor, battered, subconscious mind. The poor thing has been screaming internally that something was going wrong, for, oh, let's see... about two years now. Let's see, when was SARS-CoV2? November... 2019. Yeah, I remember, that's when the fam got sick. All of us.
And I -never- get sick. That was the beginning, and I've been on high crisis alert, ever since. I mean, don't get me wrong: I'm a badass. I won. You don't even know what my victory conditions were, so just settle down your shack talk. You people don't even know the good stuff, my hand to God, and while that hand is up there, I will say a legit prayer, I hope no one ever has to know the all of it, until I'm dead or have changed my identity or I can sail to Iapetus or some shit.
Two years and 3 months of non-stop what the fuck ever-itis. I can hardly believe it's over, but it basically kind of is. Although, like, a trial. And, I'm moving eventually, but I was gonna do that -anyway- (little did anyone know--of course I was not staying, Jesus, some of you Punylings are adorable, you know that?) and I can be quite assured that it's either going to be not-guilty from a jury or just dismissed, or, wonder of wonders, someone goes for the double-down jugular strike.
Not preferred, frankly. I'm a lover, not a throatcutter. I'm basically open to learning new skills though. I was keeping myself pure before, but we saw how that went, so... well, fudge.
Why am I even blogging here, for fuck's sake? Oh, right. I totally remember.
You dorks and geeks and nerds pretending to be tough are
my actual family. Hi. I bet you thought I forgot the real you and me. Sorry I've been neglecting keeping up with holiday greetings and all, but I'm gonna be real, real honest: something had to be done to weed out the riffraff. You're welcome.
Yeah, I can't see myself preferring to watch a movie, than to just enjoy the simple pleasure of writing composition. Yeah, I'm probably going to keep it up. Yeah, what the hell. Why not, right? It's not like writers ever get kidnapped and murdered, right? I should be okay, no matter what.
Because I know I AM.
p.s.: I'm confused. Are you saying... I need that? Like, I thought we have been over this enough times already. Didn't I just write about that yesterday? Maybe you didn't read it.
mebbe you jelly
