My Blog is like… A Box Of iJuice
Life’s funny like that. You think you know yourself & you go online and distill your memoirs into an oddly colorful collection of short snippets…
You chop your life into chunks, throw them into the thought blender & extract the sugary hype that is juice, discarding the pips, peel, fiber & what ever other substance is left over from the process.
You list your favorite lyrics/songs, cartoons, videos, actors, books, DJs, pictures, dishes, cocktails, hangouts, recipes, anecdotes & even talk about your friend’s encounter in the gym showers. Gee Golly Wow!
Sex is splashed all over the pages freely as the usage of profanities like fuck, bitch, slut & cock. But the profanities don’t nearly do as much damage to the English language as tainting it with words like anti-achievement, serial monogamist, cockadile, sexcapades & goatilicious. Goat-delicious. Goats aren’t just delicious, goats are everywhere, especially in my blog!
What is a blog without a lil moan & whine?
Relate the bad days at the office, bitch about the bitch, tales of the death of a loved one or even an argument that seems utter meaningless. Stories of love found & love lost, just like the movies keeps the ‘airplay’ up.
Sentimental stories about those who count fruit flies & girls named after cherry blossoms gives you the appearance of a legitimate writer. Meh… I was paid to write & hated it with a vengeance.
Name drop a couple of celebrities for glamour, several clubs so everyone who has ever been out clubbing wonders if you were there & secret locations for nosey pokers to check out. Mystery & mystique intrigue are key sellers when selling on the internet!
Talking about fitness instructors like a drooling stalker or post secretly snapped photos of cute but unsuspecting strangers on holiday always inspire snippy comments. Not forgetting the explicit, even if not lucid depiction of men you lust over even if the act itself is shallower than a mirage?
Top it all off with bits and pieces of your own skin to seem more attractive to the perverts, which most likely make up a high percentage of all internet users. Heh.
Then like the acrid taste of your own vomit after one drink too many, you wonder if cyber space is not as harmlessly/ anonymously fun as you initially thought. What if others can identify this queen by his perky man-boobs? What if the sociological experiment in vivid color has finally turned a thousand shades of grey, each as awe inspiring as the next?
Not so suddenly your creativity is governed by what your friends’ emotions. You can’t talk about a bad day without someone thinking you’re suicidal. There isn’t a conversation that the damn blog doesn’t sooner or later take centre stage & push the real man out of the spot light. And to top it all off, anonymous sex posts are no longer anonymous.
Who did you sleep with Androjane?
Some where along the way I’ve learnt to deal with being dark and twisty inside. I’ve even learnt to let go, even if begrudgingly of ill harbored sentiments towards those who slanderously call me malicious names to my face and to those who irk, I just smirk. I’ve forgiven a guy who slapped me, within reason. But it doesn’t matter.
My creative freedom is shrouded with fear & doubt.
Fear that those who are quick to judge will think I’m a total nutcase, my mind confirmed infirmed with all the substance abuse. Trust me, being different can be awfully tiring & horridly lonely. I can be surrounded by a sea of familiar faces and still feel like a lone pine, in a desert… wilting away.. needle by needle.
And I doubt my own ability to inspire. That’s right, I’ve always had aspirations to be your inspiration, but I’m not sure if you ever got my drift. I wanted whoever who damn well wanted to read my shit to at least try to think for themselves. Think outside of the box…
Think inside the box…
Think whiles fucking doggy style on top the damned box.
Conscious independent thought is so much more precious than *OH MY GAWD* knowing that black is the new pink or that Pink likes to wear black. Thinking is HOOoot!
Did I have to spell it out for you?
Society’s norms are for the sheep. Sheep that are sheared for their wool & slaughtered for their meat. Sheep that are herded by their master’s bitches as the masters snooze beneath the broken oak tree. The shepherd can fucking knit his own pubes & eat himself. I want to be free.
Free of the burden of justification & the conscience that prevents me from revealing all the sordid details of my escapades that involve others’ lives. I’m fucking tired of keeping all your damn secrets! Shit happens and sometimes it’s my life too, don’t you get it?
We all fall of the wagon, through the barbed wire fence & into the ever so carefully placed vats of toxic waste once in a while. We all need a little tenderness to assure us we can be loved. We all crave attention when nothing seems right. But my dears, acceptance from others is so over rated when you can’t even love yourself. Give yourself a hug now, or, better yet a good wank.
The freedom to write as I please smells sweater than the cinnamony scent of freshly baked apple pie. I can almost taste the gooey, chewy warm super sweet goodness that is creative freedom. Find another fucking muse to copy. And if you can’t, in sure guess/guest bloggers can do an equally as squalid job. The human brain isn’t just good for multiplying mad cow prions, you know. Or do you?
My dearest darling readers, I love you all, even those that I wouldn’t sleep with for 99,999 dollars. I especially thank you for reading this super long post.
But the thing is, if the neurons haven’t sparked in your mind, if you can’t put two and two together to get a foursome, I’m tired of censoring my words & won’t be your queen bitch anymore. I have plenty of other equally as conquerable if not as worthy things to rule over. Shut your mouth and don’t go comparing me to all the other gay blogs that have become defunct. Androjane has always been more than rainbows & pink triangles, there is plenty of fluff and sparkles too.
Maybe I’ll continue to post lyrics but really, what happens next is anyone’s guess. Its time for Androjane to sleep. Don’t think of this ‘me’ as dead, just floating…
Matta atode… Ja ne…
You chop your life into chunks, throw them into the thought blender & extract the sugary hype that is juice, discarding the pips, peel, fiber & what ever other substance is left over from the process.
You list your favorite lyrics/songs, cartoons, videos, actors, books, DJs, pictures, dishes, cocktails, hangouts, recipes, anecdotes & even talk about your friend’s encounter in the gym showers. Gee Golly Wow!
Sex is splashed all over the pages freely as the usage of profanities like fuck, bitch, slut & cock. But the profanities don’t nearly do as much damage to the English language as tainting it with words like anti-achievement, serial monogamist, cockadile, sexcapades & goatilicious. Goat-delicious. Goats aren’t just delicious, goats are everywhere, especially in my blog!
What is a blog without a lil moan & whine?
Relate the bad days at the office, bitch about the bitch, tales of the death of a loved one or even an argument that seems utter meaningless. Stories of love found & love lost, just like the movies keeps the ‘airplay’ up.
Sentimental stories about those who count fruit flies & girls named after cherry blossoms gives you the appearance of a legitimate writer. Meh… I was paid to write & hated it with a vengeance.
Name drop a couple of celebrities for glamour, several clubs so everyone who has ever been out clubbing wonders if you were there & secret locations for nosey pokers to check out. Mystery & mystique intrigue are key sellers when selling on the internet!
Talking about fitness instructors like a drooling stalker or post secretly snapped photos of cute but unsuspecting strangers on holiday always inspire snippy comments. Not forgetting the explicit, even if not lucid depiction of men you lust over even if the act itself is shallower than a mirage?
Top it all off with bits and pieces of your own skin to seem more attractive to the perverts, which most likely make up a high percentage of all internet users. Heh.
Then like the acrid taste of your own vomit after one drink too many, you wonder if cyber space is not as harmlessly/ anonymously fun as you initially thought. What if others can identify this queen by his perky man-boobs? What if the sociological experiment in vivid color has finally turned a thousand shades of grey, each as awe inspiring as the next?
Not so suddenly your creativity is governed by what your friends’ emotions. You can’t talk about a bad day without someone thinking you’re suicidal. There isn’t a conversation that the damn blog doesn’t sooner or later take centre stage & push the real man out of the spot light. And to top it all off, anonymous sex posts are no longer anonymous.
Who did you sleep with Androjane?
Some where along the way I’ve learnt to deal with being dark and twisty inside. I’ve even learnt to let go, even if begrudgingly of ill harbored sentiments towards those who slanderously call me malicious names to my face and to those who irk, I just smirk. I’ve forgiven a guy who slapped me, within reason. But it doesn’t matter.
My creative freedom is shrouded with fear & doubt.
Fear that those who are quick to judge will think I’m a total nutcase, my mind confirmed infirmed with all the substance abuse. Trust me, being different can be awfully tiring & horridly lonely. I can be surrounded by a sea of familiar faces and still feel like a lone pine, in a desert… wilting away.. needle by needle.
And I doubt my own ability to inspire. That’s right, I’ve always had aspirations to be your inspiration, but I’m not sure if you ever got my drift. I wanted whoever who damn well wanted to read my shit to at least try to think for themselves. Think outside of the box…
Think inside the box…
Think whiles fucking doggy style on top the damned box.
Conscious independent thought is so much more precious than *OH MY GAWD* knowing that black is the new pink or that Pink likes to wear black. Thinking is HOOoot!
Did I have to spell it out for you?
Society’s norms are for the sheep. Sheep that are sheared for their wool & slaughtered for their meat. Sheep that are herded by their master’s bitches as the masters snooze beneath the broken oak tree. The shepherd can fucking knit his own pubes & eat himself. I want to be free.
Free of the burden of justification & the conscience that prevents me from revealing all the sordid details of my escapades that involve others’ lives. I’m fucking tired of keeping all your damn secrets! Shit happens and sometimes it’s my life too, don’t you get it?
We all fall of the wagon, through the barbed wire fence & into the ever so carefully placed vats of toxic waste once in a while. We all need a little tenderness to assure us we can be loved. We all crave attention when nothing seems right. But my dears, acceptance from others is so over rated when you can’t even love yourself. Give yourself a hug now, or, better yet a good wank.
The freedom to write as I please smells sweater than the cinnamony scent of freshly baked apple pie. I can almost taste the gooey, chewy warm super sweet goodness that is creative freedom. Find another fucking muse to copy. And if you can’t, in sure guess/guest bloggers can do an equally as squalid job. The human brain isn’t just good for multiplying mad cow prions, you know. Or do you?
My dearest darling readers, I love you all, even those that I wouldn’t sleep with for 99,999 dollars. I especially thank you for reading this super long post.
But the thing is, if the neurons haven’t sparked in your mind, if you can’t put two and two together to get a foursome, I’m tired of censoring my words & won’t be your queen bitch anymore. I have plenty of other equally as conquerable if not as worthy things to rule over. Shut your mouth and don’t go comparing me to all the other gay blogs that have become defunct. Androjane has always been more than rainbows & pink triangles, there is plenty of fluff and sparkles too.
Maybe I’ll continue to post lyrics but really, what happens next is anyone’s guess. Its time for Androjane to sleep. Don’t think of this ‘me’ as dead, just floating…
Matta atode… Ja ne…
I don't mind...
Suddenly, you came to life
You were, astounding
I was so mesmerized
Heavenly, is all that, I could feel
Now your here
And left without a single feel
From this day on...
I'll never be the same again
I'll never be the same again
I'll never be able to live, my life
I'll never be the same again
I'll never be able to live my life
Since you came along
Heavenly, is all that, I could feel
Now your here, there's nothing left, for me to feel
From this day on...
I'll never be the same again, I'll never be able to live my life...
I'll never be the same again, I'll never be able to live my life...
From this day on
How could I ever get over you?
How could I ever get over you?
How could I...
Since you came along
How could I ever get over you...
Markus Schulz ft. Carrie Skipper - Never Be The Same
posted by AJ @ 12:47 AM
20 Tit Bit(s)
