So, I stumbled up an old blog of mine that I had completely forgotten existed; to be fair I don’t even remember creating it. This dates back to my early college years. There’s only 12 entries, but it was weird to read. Apparently I:
drank a lot more coffee; had much better luck with lady folk; and, the main thing noticed, was that I was less fearful of writing with intimacy(see a blatant example in the previous line wherein I dodged the usage of “getting laid” by using archaic phrases). It seems I’ve developed quite a pansy streak over these last few years. I should like to look at this fact more closely. The bravado with which I wrote was rather refreshing. There was this sense of.. I don’t know, nudity, about the whole thing. I was a young writer, unafraid to talk about my cock, or conquests. Now, I just typed cock and had that weird nine-volt on the tongue sensation of panic. How strange is that?
I’ve heard that it takes 7 years for your body to completely regenerate. I think that’s bullshit since tattoos spit in the face of that logic… anyway, every 7 years, the idiom goes, we are replaced wholesale. So, am I the person who wrote this forgotten blog? Or, is he gone? Having no tattoos I cannot prove or disprove any of this. I remember the time of that blog, the wording is somewhat familiar, but the tone is different, unfamiliar. So, I guess that’s one dead anthropoid… a now dispelled ideal of collegiate lust and writers desire.
I realize I sound like OneDepressedOldMan right now, but I’m blue when I think about that optimistic young buck… that collegiate Alexx filled with chemicals and ambition.
I need a change soon. I’m thinking about teaching abroad for awhile and coming back to Portland’ Or maybe moving back east for a bit and take in some more college, something to get back that spark of creativity ambition.
Anyway, I found an old bog today, and it reminded me of something.