Where you been, dude?

I hear you out there... you're wondering what I've been doing these past couple of years.

Besides sucking dick for crack money, not a helluva lot. I suppose I shouldn't joke about that sort of thing; fellatio is serious business!

Mainly, I've been working. The nature of this work, and the identity of my employer, must remain confidential. We'll just call it "government work." What this work entailed, and where exactly I buried all the bodies, shall remain my little secret. Let's just say I've received enough training in the military and martial arts to make Steven Seagal choke with envy upon his foot-long meatball sub.

Yeah, I'm dynamite, jack!

One major drawback to having such a choice job is the disastrous impact on my creative drive. See, I once fancied myself quite the writer (a fact easily discerned from my adroit prose).

Historically, working full-time at any job has rendered me artistically retarded. Even schlepping pies at Pizza Hut ruined my creative groove. The reason for this inevitable stagnation is no mystery; I'm not the most well-adjusted chap in the world.

I know this comes as a complete shock, but trust me when I say I have issues. It takes a huge amount of concentration and energy just to complete the most "normal" of tasks. Interacting with people is so tiring, I'm basically non-communicative after quitting time.

I'm not kidding. Anyone who speaks to me after 5 PM is risking bodily harm. The bag-boy at Fred Meyer asked me "Paper or plastic?" and I landed a right cross that had him spitting chicklets like a demonic pez dispenser!

I'm sure some do-gooder psychiatrist would diagnose me with a social anxiety disorder and throw me on the latest psychotropic substance. My question to them would be, "Whatever happened to shy?" We live in a society where introverts are made to feel like outcasts.

Where physical abnormalities are corrected with plastic surgery.

Where personality quirks are met with physical reprisals so extreme as to push the very boundaries of civilized society.

A planet where apes evolved from man?!?


Wait... where was I?


Oh, yeah, the shy thing.

I'm not hung up on the "Pharmaceutical as God" model our culture has adopted. Yeah, I'm fucked up, but it's a good kind of fucked up!

Still, these issues cause me to mentally shut down when confronted by major life changes, such as... a new job, for instance. All of my energies are channeled into surviving the daily stresses of the job, leaving scant resources for such silly enterprise as creativity or fun.

Well, this post ceases to amuse me. I've yammered long enough.

All you need know is that I'm striking back against this artistic paralysis! I will no longer be a slave to this mental malaise. I will no longer feel bad about my personality quirks and physical imperfections!

Now if you'll excuse me, I need to have my teeth polished to a blinding shade of white.