Monday, January 24, 2005

2. Attrition

Tolkien once wrote that though he found many things to criticise about his magnum opus The Lord of the Rings, as the author he was under no obligation to publicly express them. Thus he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Why give more bones to pick to those circling vultures eh? I mean it’d be like you telling your girlfriend that you’re also a premature ejaculator on top of being bad in bed when she’s nagging you about forgetting her birthday. Now how sick would that be?

Yeah, though I agree with what Tolkien said, after rereading my very first post on this blog, I found myself helpless to resist from ripping into my own work and exposing it for the fetid piece of shite it is. Yep, I am sick. But no more sick than you. And yes, I do have way too much time on my hands. In fact, I spend way too much time online for my own health. But till I start referring to my computer as a breathing life form and have meaningful conversations with it, I still consider myself just about normal (as opposed to subnormal, yes you know who you are). Also, my perverse self-inflicted disembowelment of my work would hardly be in front of a watching audience. I mean, who has the time to read other people’s blogs in the first place? I for one don’t (am too busy spending it doing aimless surfing anyway).

I’m probably one of a possible two people who’d ever read this post anyway. That’s what makes this so fascinating to me, in fact I can bloody write whatever I want without a care in the world. Let’s see. Our censorship board is made up of lonely men who wank too much and fuck too little. My firm is full of assholes and posers who only act that way because they’re insecure about their small dicks. Cats are nicer than dogs only for the reason that you can call a cat pussy while you can only call a dog a bitch. The Star Wars prequels are a load of rubbish. Beware of mutant midgets out to conquer the world. See? Point illustrated. Ok, these are dangerous waters I thread. How does one criticise one’s own work on being self-indulgent and pretentious without coming off as being self-indulgent and pretentious? Ah, therein lies the predicament. But thread we must, for the truth must be known. Strike one on trying not to be self-indulgent.

You know, reading through my first post, it feels as if I was trapped in some space-time-continuum thingy and where somehow, all the bullshit from the future was warped to the present and downloaded directly into my brain. I dunno if the tears that were streaming down from my eyes as I read were actually caused by my screaming brain dying or the fact that it was the weeping from all the bullshit that mankind would suffer in the future. Either way, the catalyst for that time warp was that putrid piece. Well actually, I was torn on whether to delete the post and spare humanity the horror. But somehow, deep down inside, a part of me (my inner Satan) yearned to give payback to the world for all the wrongs it’s done me (‘specially that bastard who cut me off without signalling on the highway this morning). So I gleefully wait the day when someone wastes five minutes of his life that could be spent trimming his armpit hair into the shape of a bonsai plant on reading that post. And may that day come soon. Also, I felt that the indescribable evil of it all was too great a thing to be forever erased from the memory of time, and therefore chose to preserve it as a warning to future writers out there, a sort of monument of pain that says: See! This is what happens when bad ideas are combined with even worse writing! Behold and beware! For one day, it may be you who follows that path down to damnation! Muahahahaha!

Strike two. Actually, I don’t really know what self-indulgent or pretentious writing is. But I figure I’m pretty much close to doing it now. Just because I hated what I wrote doesn’t really mean it’s a pile of Beckham. I always hate what I write. That’s why I write and re-write it continuously till it ceases to exist as a completed piece of work and turns into some infinite work-in-progress that’d never see the light of day. That’s why I was so compelled just to post it for once as I wrote it, to see if it’d look and sit pretty on my blog. Heck, I don’t know why I even bother to blog in the first place. God knows. I mean, who the hell wants to know about some obscure person’s thoughts and opinions at all? Everyone has an opinion. Heck, we live in a world where we have no choice but to hear someone’s opinion on something. I look in the paper and I read about some politician’s opinion that watching uncensored movies will make us all turn into Ted Bundy-like sex fiends and rape our household pets. I go to work and I hear some asshole express his views on how rising oil prices and interest rates would affect economic growth for Q2 2005 as if it’s the most important thing in the world (like I give a flying fuck). I hang out with my friends and I hear differing opinions on what’s the best blowjob technique a girl could give (well at least that’s interesting). Fucking hell, even when I go home to watch football on ESPN I have to listen to that ass Shebby “Whiny Voice” Singh talking about some guy’s atrocious defending (if there was ever a time when the pot called the kettle black, then this would be it). Even now, I’m freaking writing my opinion on people’s opinions. Pretty sick right? Well, it’s a sick world we live in. We’re talking about a world where a George Bush can get re-elected, where the news is dominated by who wore what at the christening of the Beckhams’ newborn (for the love of God, I mean, come off it already!), where locals speak with foreign accents though they’ve never even been to a foreign country and worse of all, where Natalie Portman’s nude scenes get cut out from the final version of Closer.

So why bother right? Why? Why do I do it at all? Well, I guess maybe, like the rest of us, I have some self-indulgent voice inside me that needs to be, ahem, shall we say indulged? Let’s just say it’s a form of self-gratification that doesn’t involve lubricants. But that’s not to say that all writing is self-indulgent. All I’m saying that my posts here will be nothing but that. And I must say, I will not apologise for it. Don’t say you weren’t warned. So back to my review of my very first post, I must say I hated it. I cringe every time I read it. But at the same time, I love it. It’s how I felt when I wrote it, bad language and all. And if it offends or the writing sucks, ah, who gives a shit write? I mean everyone has an opinion. Strike three and you’re out baby!

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