Blog, first and last, last and first. This will be my first and last blog here on myspace.

I have another blog. Not here, but there. I keep it up quite frequently, but not really.

It is just a blog of random thoughts and streams of consciousness. There is no point in me writing down my daily routines and my daily happenings considering the same shit happens every day. Day in and day out. Sun rise and sun set.

Here is the link. http://www.livejournal.com/users/hermitsmoores/

It’s just me rambling and rambling and rambling. Shit I do everyday but in the “word” form.

I go there and I go here, I go everywhere with that blog. All my thoughts and feelings. All my hearts and emotions. All my soul and perversions. Everything is in that blog. Most public, some private.

Writing. Daily juice cleansing. Pumping. Pumping. Words flow into the empty void of these pages here and mainly in the pages there.

This is an experiment to see if I can do it. This is an experiment to see if this will work. Will I be able to put my thoughts down with where I am now? Will I be able to put my thoughts down with the tv taunting me, teasing me, asking me, begging me to turn it on? Will I be able to jibjab with my usual diatribes as my comfy brand new futon yells at me to lay on it, to nap on it, to give it the warmth that it needs, to have it fulfill its purpose of being used? Will I be able to?

Experiment, test, a trial run to see if I really do need to go out and get my thoughts down.

This year will be the year. This year will be the time. I will get my work done. There’s no point in my dilly dallying with the things that I dilly dally with and just get on pace and finish the things that I need to finish.

I write and write with my usual speed and my usual censor as I type and type without the “correctness” of prose and grammar. Things just flow and flow until the pages are filled with these little words that makes sentences and complete thoughts.

My constant readers will be familiar with my style and subject. Virgins will find it tedious and a bore. If you get through one, you can get through them all. If not, “hasta la vista” as they love to say. Thank you for your valuable time and effort.

Thank you all.

I just sit here, at my comfy new home, just thinking about things that I usually do. Things that came to pass as of late floods my mind. That fateful night. The dates of dates, the times of times, the girls of girls, my life my life. Things pass through my mind like the moving pictures that crosses the silver screen or the square tube. Things move in fast forward and reverse in super speed and in the oh so slo mo that I am so fond of, just picking out the miniscule details that I’ve missed along the way.

Analyzing the picture frames of my unconscious movie that plays over and over in my head, I cannot make heads or tails to the riddle that clouds my mind.

I cannot make sense of what my mind is telling me to do. I cannot jump on and clutch the advice that my gut is suggesting. I cannot do anything because I’m just a confused jumble mess of “what’s going on?”.

Who is it that I am to end up with? Who is it that is supposed to spend their life with me, besides myself?

A cloudy answer is in front of me. A foggy silhouette stands in the gray mist. It looks like myself.

So sad indeed, sad to be, but happy to go on and move forward from the compass that was guiding me in the wrong direction. Now I am back on the “lost” track that I was on, no longer guided by the misguiding compass.

Now I am lost on my own terms. Lost at my own choice. Just aimlessly wandering, going wherever it is that my feet want to go.

But wherever it goes, I will never know. I never know where it is that I will go. Looking back at the past year, seeing where I’ve been, I would never have imagined.

It’s about damn time. Yes it is. It’s about damn time. It sure took me a long time to get there. A very long ass time, but I got there and now it is time for me to move on and go somewhere else. Go where I need to be, maybe, hopefully. It just doesn’t sound too scary anymore, but it is still a little bit out of my grasp.

I reach and reach, but I grab at nothing but thin air. But sometimes it is best to reach out and grab nothing. Just to reach out and make the attempt makes up for all the emptiness that you are grabbing for.

Effort. Tries. Just doing what it is that you are doing to survive the game called life. You reach and reach, hoping and hoping, grabbing and grabbing, until your last breath, doing whatever it is that you need to do. Effort. Tries.

This will go here and there as I get my unfocused focus down into this empty void and putting it down in history that these combinations of words were actually placed together to create something so unique and so different that nothing can duplicate it unless it needs to be duplicated for preservation sake.