When I was younger I had some friends who thought they were the self appointed gurus of cool. This self indulgence only worsened in university. It got to the point that I stopped telling them what sort of music I liked or what books I was reading, for fear of being labeled mainstream or lacking in culture. I can still hear they’re mocking tones about how a song wasn’t real music if it made the top 40 and was played on commercial radio. Even more painful was they’re self appointed subject matter expert opinions on everything that was wrong with the world from politics to economics. I now know why I got totally loaded when I was around them, it really did dull the pain.
This is one of my all time favourite posters. I laughed my arse off and wanted to go have a drink when I first saw it.
I’m sure if they were to read my posts they’d suggest my misuse of the English language was tantamount to raping the soul of Shakespeare. What I’ve come to realize is, if I like it who gives a shit what others think. Real friends will say “man you listen to/read/watch/like some crazy shit, but that’s cool, you probably think the same about me”.
Bite my arse Shakespeare. Some of your work is very cool, but some of it makes no sense to me whatsoever.
This blog is a big up yours to those who have stunted my ability to say how I feel and talk about the things I like. The only problem might lie in my short attention span (I just spent 10 minutes looking for something about attention spans and ended up looking at social facepalm images), this blog business could take a while.
Nanto Cielens
Lost In A Blog 