Friday, October 21, 2011

Hi, my name is MrIndieDay.

In trying to undo what self-righteous anger I've wrought in my 20-year-blink of unbridled awesomeness, I find it a tad bit difficult to divorce the petty anger that so drunkenly careened my creativity into various social/racial/ideological poles.

Too soon?

Which means I have to settle this problem like you would with any possessive bitch who's clearly told herself she knows you better than anyone else and cries when she's told she doesn't two months after you've broken up.

Enough, Aesop.

I could

A) Come to terms, and bite my scathing tongue.


B) Find an outlet.

The former scares me. "1984" was a book that has molded me into believing that utter ideological freedom is one of our most utmost sociological ideals, and that any form of repression leads to the corruption of humanity.

And no, I don't have more words that end in "logical".

So in realizing this, C'n'L will remain alive and brazenly offensive. Albeit with a sharper focus; having minimized verbal knifefighting in my personal life, this'll be the means by which I avoid psychological implosion.

Yeah, it happened like that.

This is important to note because what may have constricted the flow of 190 proof Grade A sarcasm here has been its persistent use in real life, and my lack of control over it. Like a kid doing his first kegstand. I have profusely vomitted, and you know what, I feel better now. I think I'm ready to do it again.

And with my higher tolerance for sarcasm and its bitter, bitter aftertaste, I can let proper conscience take the wheel as designated driver when I so need it in real life.

However, this blog is my weekend frat party. And we are getting fuuuuucked up.

1 comment:

  1. White girl wasted off this post. luv it, luv it, luv it. I am such a groupie.