I Think He’s Broken

My brain and the entries that were previously flowing like a harmonious river have started arguing. I don’t know how to continue with the short story and the movie review refuses to proceed in spite of the fact that I remember every detail of what I watched. My brain and blog apparently liked the Sick Week they had off and want to squeeze as much as they can out of it.

Well I’m here to deliver eight slices of rude disappointment. Here’s a bunch of weird stuff just for the sake of weird stuff. Let’s see how you like that, Me!

  1. The Scrapped Introduction

Oh yes, I’m showing it to the world! You never intended for it to see the light of day due to how lame and creepy it felt to you but I’m putting it up, right here, right now! Gawk at the terrible filter! Stare in confusion as he tries to make a weird voice through that warped face!

It don’t get much more amateur than that!

2. A List of All the Things I Said I’d Do

  • A custom Lego Robot transforming combiner
  • A 3rd-party building block Dragon/Mech/Giant Robot set
  • The same but with four lions
  • Also the same but with four Zoid-like robots
  • An Omega Prime piece
  • More videos
  • Short stories
  • Crocs and alligators

Look at it. Look at it! You have no schedule and spend most days just loafing around the apartment. What’s your excuse, other than the times that you’re actually sick? Get to it! Do it in stages and parts! DO EET!

3. Dinner Time

God help me, I’m losing my mind.

4. My Creative Process

WARNING: A CLASS-Y DESTABILIZATION EVENT IS IMMINENT.

What happens when you throw out all plans and create something out of pure chaos? I’m no Frank Zappa so it’s probably not “Art”. No, that was “out of nothing”. I imagine this is how every large-scale content creator feels all the time, to just have something, anything ready for upload. I am not a daily poster, I came to terms with that early on because I just do have that constant energy and rapid-fire mind that- you know, scratch that, I don’t have the focus of will required to do that unless I’m in the ideal environment. Today didn’t allow me to reach that perfect environment.

So I bit it.

Is this a stream of pure consciousness, spilling my mind out into text, or is it a torrent of uncontrolled chaos unleashed in a childish tantrum? Either it’s both or I’m an eight-year-old lying to himself. You’re considered a “Man” when you reach the age of… social construct? I have no clue. Here in the US it’s probably eighteen, though the argument could be made for “twenty-one”. So do men drink and screw or do they go off to war? When I was twenty-seven and working in the Big Apple I still felt like a child.

Hang on, this is starting to become about stuff. Let me remedy that:

muppetfuckah
MUPPETFUCKAH!

My sleep medication kicked my ass so I wasn’t up until 2pm and I  haven’t washed my hair or shaved but forget that for a second, what that fuck is this thing? It’s some kind of squishy Jim Henson-looking muppet goblin with moving eyes and a mouth as well as a tail that makes it look like a turd from the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. Glen brought it back from cleaning out a storage shed and nobody involved knew what this thing was or if it was from anything. Does it ring a bell to any of you?

Why is this so easy? It’s crap! It’s total crap, it’s about nothing! “Oh look, here’s a weird thing. Oh look, here’s another weird thing. Look, two more weird things! Am I a philosopher? Glerk, a puppet, what the shit?!” The stuff I want to do flows like molasses from my brain like a clock that’s kind of slow but I can fart this wackness out rapid-fire without trying because reasons? How does that work???

Not even getting into all the times my computer says, “But what about all these gaaames I have!” And then I’m shooting zombies or enemy spaceships like this:

And this, dear reader, is what frustration looks like in a visual, recorded format.

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