B is for blog

I just got my new clickety-clack, which, as you might imagine, makes the most satisfying sounds. I also desperately hope that it will make writing enchanting again.

I have a friend who we'll call David because his name is actually David.

~ this is aidan tooole and i like to make my voice reaally light and troll people on call of duty.~

Ugh. The man-child commandeered my new toy just as I started a symphony of click strokes. I've forcibly removed him. Perhaps someday, when he's less annoying, I'll let him hang out. But in the meantime, he needs to be somewhere else so I can return to this super interesting entry about how my friend David, who is not innocent and does not need to be protected, has been giving me mild nudges to return to writing.

He does this because he knows it used to be a joy and an outlet to relieve stress for me. He also does it because he fancies himself to be my fake-ass agent. I think this arrangement suits us both because it gives him an outlet for all of his most outrageous ideas while also complaining that he's not being paid enough.

I like to think that it's a win/win situation, so long as I don't have writer’s block. Sadly, that's pretty much been all that I've had for the last two years. A big old block of whatever the opposite of writing is.

Like anyone who sucks at keeping a journal, I've fallen down the rabbit hole of visiting a blank page after a long drought and spending the first two lines apologizing to myself. It's lame, but one could also say that it's a comfortable writing prompt of sorts.

I'm not going to do that today. Instead, I'm going to tell you that I was interrupted in the middle of a very satisfying sentence to type by the same son (I only have one) lamenting that he could use some assistance manscaping.

Someday when I'm fertilizing someone's yard, I hope he looks back on this fine entry and sees that. I also hope that he has figured out how to manscape properly by then.

Please.

And now, to take this fun novelty (which also happens to be the most words that I've written for fun in an age) and determine how to publish it to my site. If you're reading this, I'm almost sorry for you. Not because I just assaulted you with talk of teenage manscaping, but because the publication of this blog practically guarantees that without the distraction of wikipedia or the socials, I'm more than likely to clickety-clack far more silliness in the days and weeks to come.

Besos (but not Bezos),
K