First of all, you can just read my About page – and that of all the WordPress bloggers – and get it over with. Most of us have bothered to write something imaginative, boring, funny, heart breaking, serious in that page. Many of it is lies.
“I started blogging because I wanted to share my experiences with other people.” Bullshit. You are just bored out of your mind and wanted to keep your hands off the cigarette box.
Since you clearly haven’t read mine, I’ll try to explain it here. I started blogging because I realized at an early age that I’m God’s gift to writing and needed an opportunity to demonstrate this to the rest of the world. I believe the world is a
scarier better place with people like me in it, presenting their brilliant, well-thought-out opinions to the blogging community.
I truly feel fellow, less talented writers desperately need my avant-garde arguments to provoke life-altering discussions on human nature and the subconscious.
Another explanation for my love of blogging – especially for examples like today’s post – is the after effect of this:
You wouldn’t believe how wonderful my writing seems after a few murky glasses of the ubiquitous tsipouro. Every sentence is a string of carefully chosen words (much like a pearl necklace really), bursting with images and double-meanings. Add to this the sun baking my brain on this outdoor table setting and you’ve got the perfect mix for achieving literary greatness (hic!).
Can you imagine never being made aware of these skills? The horror.
I have repeatedly used my writing to make a living but – and this may come as a shock to you – I was unable to find an employer who would bow to my brilliance and allow me to write whatever I wanted. If Van Gogh was alive, these closed-minded people wouldn’t even hire him to paint their living room. But what can you do…