A Cry For Help

You people are so spoiled. I’ve been reading through my archives trying to find something to write about. What I’ve discovered is shocking. A blog entry posted five years ago today was but two paragraphs, both of which recounted my day at work. I didn’t even have a real job at the time. I worked twice a week, for seven hours a day, for my mother. I had access to free vending machines and cable television. I had all day to think of something to blog about and that’s what I came up with? And now, five years later, if I devote 8 paragraphs to Bono (again) I feel like I’ve let you all down? You are so pampered.

Should there be a Swan Fungus holiday contest this year? I feel like no one ever enters the contests so maybe I shouldn’t hold them anymore. Granted, the terms of my holiday contests are usually difficult to meet. Why did I ask you to put my face on a shirt and take a photo of a celebrity wearing it? Why did I think any of you would want to draw a picture of me? Vanity, of course. Perhaps the real question is, can I think of a task which is easy to complete, and a prize that is worth your competing? In short, no. But maybe you can! And now that I’ve called you spoiled and threatened to dissolve the annual holiday contest, I’m sure you’re all chomping at the bit to submit your ideas to me.

Help me out. Clearly I’m a borderline retard when it comes to planning these contests. Lend me some ideas. Maybe I’ll adopt one. You don’t have to think of prizes, I can do that on my own. I’ve still got the Jerky Boys record award from last year (because no one entered the contest). If the winner lives in Los Angeles I can take you out for drinks, or to a screening of The Room, or I can just roofie you and leave you in an alley. The prize is the easy part.

Would you believe the thought of total blog deletion crossed my mind today? I feel like I should call a hotline, like maybe blog-suicidal thoughts are almost as dangerous as real-life suicidal thoughts. Would that make blogging about blog-deletion thoughts a cry for help? Or maybe just an unconscious cry for attention. Hmm…maybe The Warden was right when he commented that I’m “so desperate for readers that I bitch about it every other post.”

I think I’m going to drink some bourbon and listen to records and put on Nicci’s makeup and cry and masturbate for the rest of the night. And I thought Season Affective Disorder didn’t exist in LA!

Joseph Spence – There Will Be A Happy Meeting In Glory
Paul Weller – Remember How We Started
The Stranglers – Something Better Change