this blogging thing is not something about which i'm too keen. i mean, i have other posts on this site, but they are mostly ramblings about my political slants, my rants against china and their treatment of muslims and uyghurs, my ghastly poetry and haikus, and even a couple of short stories.

essentially and originally, i invested my time at this alleged "push-button" way of writing life in order to put my writing on the internet for anyone to read. sadly, but not surprisingly, not many people have visited, so i remain a widely unread and unappreciated, albeit unworthy, genius.

blogs, i thought, were just a disgrace to writers and writing society in general. what the hell is a "blog", anyway, i thought? something found next to me on the bathroom floor of some unknown person when i woke up from a night of usual antics? a nickname given to a person resembling a blowfish cum frog? a dangerous delicacy found in the jungles of papua new guinea containing shaman's spleen, penguin's pus, dodo's duodenum, and thyroids thus?

hemingway would never have "blogged", i thought, though he may have tried to do it once to some spanish beauty while in the clutches of absinthe; neither would have dostoyevsky, the marquis de sade, che guevara, rumi, or maugham. a "blog", as they might have known it, would have been attributed to them by those of us who followed images such as, respectively, a slang term for one who shunned vodka, where to put one's penis when confronted with a bout of sexual depravity and an anteater, the perfect place in the bolivian jungle to ambush a roving gang of american CIA-funded contract killers, the pause in the 2nd part of the of the 5th stanza during the whirling of a dervish, or an affectionate term for one's lover.

i, for one, thought "blog" was the term for the residue at the bottom of a bottle of a month-long bender.

then, i realized that i had too many emails to write all the time and that my constant emailing to keep up with friends and relatives the world over was disturbing my drinking, political-ranting, football (soccer)-watching, loving-my-wife life and that was just uncalled for. perhaps this "blog" thing would be an antidote for my constant worry of not emailing.

also, i've become lazy in recent days and decided that i still needed to write emails to people in order to continue to connect on a more personal and individual level with people i love, but perhaps it was becoming too tedious to update continually the hordes of the minutiae of daily life. which would be better, i asked my Self, for those i love, what could i give to those i love that would continually keep giving--1) a serious lack of emails and photos so that they have no idea what my wife looks like, who big ryan is compared to wherehouse ryan, what dong-dong ju is in relation to my liver and the fate of the cosmos, or 2) or a site on the internet dedicated to the endlessly fascinating life that i leave where people the world over can log on at their leisure to keep up with the absolute dreamily decadent life i lead?

well, the answer arrived in a state of rare early-morning sobriety, though i'm not suggesting clarity: an additional addition to the addition of my edition of this blog thing to the aetherworld that is the internet.

i promise for those of you who read this that there is no promise of grand literary composition, of fine photographic integrity, of beautiful people in the latest fashion. i can't even promise you that there will ever be another word written after these are complete. you'll just have to make the bold journey time and time again back to this and other connecting flights of fancy that have induced me to engage time, space, and antimatter to creating a world of curmudgeonly, muddy, melancholy yet mirthful, meaningful/less, majestic, mordant but never mendacious, milieu of oft-militant though not mandated mescalinic meanderings and maunderings.

enjoy.*


*perhaps best enjoyed or consumed when in a state of extreme open-mindedness and tolerance; or an element of acute awareness that the world belongs not to the united states of israel and that some things taken for granted in the land of the less and less free and the brave--such as three musketeers bars or that israel is not a terrorist state or starbucks or that fanatic christian religious fundamentalism is less egregious than that of muslims or doritos or that democracy and american civilized life are desired the world over--are things about which so many people don't give too much of a damn about; or a condition of sublime realization that american and western mainstream media usually don't give the complete side of any story, particularly those that cast its civilization or way of life in a bad light and that if you do only believe one side of the story, you are no better than, nor any better off than, those people whom you condemn or pity with such insufferable repugnance; or read this in a frame of mind far, far away from sobriety, audacity, or american pretentiousness.