The thing about blogs is they’re a lot like sitcoms, sometimes. And if there’s one thing that I hate about TV, it’s sitcoms. All those cutesy, web designer wannabe sites with the “me against the world” posts where everything is so neatly resolved in the end remind me of 22 minute plots and lame narrative arcs and fake sets with the sliding glass doors leading out to the fake grass and the fake sky...

The links are the commercials, and the comments are the laugh track…always obligingly amused.

Fuck all that shit. I’m eating a cookie Twix and half-voqueing on the chair while I type. I’m having one of those shiny, shiny moments of clarity that sometimes come over me post binge when my mind hangs limp and untethered and all my organs feel smooth and hard like stones on the bottom of a lake.

I want to clear out all the excess I want to stop fronting with nerd cool, art house, and emo punk. I no longer want to be all about the benjamins. I want to stop being concerned about my lack of moral clarity regarding the war in Iraq. I need to realize that it’s a waste of time to obsessively read and clip out articles about guatonomo bay and foster care services in NJ. Who cares about multilateralism or pop song proclamations or a cashmere, suede-lined paradigm shift? Why should I give a damn if the most exquisite levels of metaphor and symbolism are being flattened out of the English language and replaced with awful, self-obsessed first person confessional narratives like this one? What’s it to me if we all forget how to think beyond simple, one-to-one correspondences? At least we have easy pour lids and reinforced laces and gadgety jackets and WiFi on our still too slow laptops, and let’s not forget the sitcoms, let’s not forget the blank sex reflected in mirrored ceilings, the paramount importance of being against bush, of being against a war for oil, as if any single one of us could imagine living for two days without it

Fuck this shit it’s high time that I was straight with you guys. A couple of you already know this, but it isn’t fair to everyone else…

shit, this is hard…

OK, here goes. Stacey and I are the same person. That's why we talk about all the same shit and tend to comment one after the other in people's boxes. Do you think I have the time to keep revisting all y'all's sites, over and over, from different computers, just to make it look like I'm different people? Of course I don't. Just check the IP addresses. IP doesn't lie, even if I do.

Whew! There, I said it. I’m truly very sorry for having led you all on. That was a fucked up thing to do, even if it was fun.

Oh, and there’s no such place as Minneapolis. I made that shit up.





Sorry.