welcome to nightline bitches.
whats harder, starting something, or finishing it?
at first you think its hardest to start. that's your natural instinct. this is because it takes so incredibly long to get something, anything, going. but then once you start, you realize, it is remarkably harder to finish. and only after time, do you understand that it is this inherent knowledge, this predisposed fear, of not being able to finish, that makes it so immensely hard to start in the first place. which begs the question: whats harder, starting something, or finishing it?
take this blog, for instance. when i began this blog i was in a [chemically fueled] lucid transformation that, coincidentally, befell the changing of the western year. thus, making my subtle growth [from average target market audience of urban twenty something up and comer to average target market audience of urban twenty something up and coming blogger] a symbolic metamorphoses of the spirit. time had changed for me. i was a new person. a BLOGGING person. i was an anonymous word in a vast cyberspace painted any color i chose. i was a BLOGGER. i wrote BLOGS. i was a new man. a blogging man. [blogging men like to wear fur coats and prefer mittens to gloves. i dont know why, but we do. so dont look at me funny, im just following the rules bro.]
then i started school.
well let me not shit on education for a bit, because it really has done me no harm at all. it is fine. i take it in eagerly. it is a strange, almost EROTIC approach i have towards my academic jaunt as of late. i am serious about it. i am proud of it. i like it. i want to fuck it. i want to HAVE ITS BABIES. OH GOD SPANK ME ADVANCED COMPOSITION I WANT YOU SO BAD ARRGGHAHAHAMMM [thats the sound of me ejaculating on my keyboard in case you were wondering].
but it can be time consuming. so fucking time consuming.
luckily, the sizzle and his ol lizzle came through just before the scholastic rush. with good spirits, they rolled through the cold, white, midwest tundra to brave a weekend in brooklyn. when they landed i posted em in a local gay bar lurking in the work hood. two fers till nine. i got there at seven, we knocked back a few. catching up a bit. laughing [sam has become quite the mine. you just keep digging, and he keeps on giving gold.]. it was a blast. we sparked mad hot cherries. stomped through the city in search of threads. even went to the rub for some party time theatrics [the rub DID NOT disappoint]. all in all a brilliant time.
[then there was some old news trying to be new news, but im just the newscaster, i dont decide what gets on the air. try again next week honey, and this time, make it more entertaining. maybe you'll get a shot on the late night edition of the broadcast.]
and alex, my main soldier holding down the miami fort, decided to pull the plug on this years WMC bash. the sponsorship money didnt come through in time. i was supposed to play there too. side by side with some funky house jokers from DC. that sucks. i was looking forward to dropping the hotness for those beautiful miami mami's. sluts love dj's. and i would have exercised my newfound popularity appropriately. oh well. no big loss. alex had never thrown a WMC party, and he made a valiant effort this year, but in the end it just couldnt come together. maybe ill still go. if for nothing else but the fat round view.
ahh man im getting tired. im gonna watch some porno. later dude.