Like a small child out of parental view, my brain is always up to something. A penny for my thoughts would net a small fortune. Contrary to how this journal makes it seem, there’s no particular subject I think about more than others. I probably spend as much time pondering string theory as I do string cheese. 

Unfortunately, the internet sucks that variety out of me.

I’m not a blogger. I never sit down at the computer with the intention of writing a post. Instead, I sit down to do work or email a friend, and something I experience in that moment irritates or confounds me enough that I feel writing about it in my journal will expel that demon from my mind.

Since the things that irritate or confound me while on the computer tend to be the same kinds of things, I inevitably end up writing about the same kinds of things.

And why are they the same kinds of things?

Because the web is a concentrated source of stupidity and conflict that pushes discourse whereby those maladies can flourish to the forefront. And the topics that do that share a relatively short list: Politics, race, religion, sexuality, fame, and stuff about other stuff that turns into stuff about that stuff because people can’t leave that stuff out of it.

It’s a den of diarrhea of the psyche where a chat about the best way to cook asparagus can degrade into a circus of personal attacks about your dick size. A cabinet of social curios where manners are traded for trolling and egos stretch logic thinner than Jake the Dog.

Namely, the internet specializes in grrrrr and I end up writing about it as a reflex. Not because the things that occupy its time occupy mine too.


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