Out of Hiding

About a month ago I had a conversation with a good friend of mine about some of the interesting things I tend to get into. At some point in the conversation he made a comment to me regarding my recent honesty program, where I share my adventures and misgivings with whoever cares to read them. He basically told me that I shouldn’t post about my sexual experiences online. I responded by staring at him, dumbfounded for a few moments, before pounding my double whiskey drink, leaving the table to get another one, pounding that one as well, then by returning to the table to shake my finger at him rigorously.

“What the fuck are you babbling about?” I said.
“It’s just that stuff is none of their business,” he replied.
“And who is ‘they’ exactly?” I sneered at him. I already knew the answer.
“You know, whoever is reading this blog nonsense.”
“Because blogging is for faggots?” He chuckles at me as though I weren’t being a sarcastic prick.
“Yes, blogging is for faggots.” He really does think I’m a faggot for blogging. It doesn’t bother me. I recall that he’s a good friend. Then I recall that I’m asshole, and being my friend does not always grant you immunity from my wrath. Instead of saying anything I simply conjure an image of him ranting about the sanctimony of the real punk rock community, and how he’s rejecting technology because he hates the image it creates, because that image sullies what it truly means to be an anarchist, thus weakening the message of the music.

About five minutes after he says this he asks me if he can borrow my cell phone to check in with his girlfriend. He promised he come home early.
Good one.

With this in mind, I simply smile back at him.
“Regardless,” I begin, “I can say whatever the fuck I want.” He tries to say something but I silence him with glaring disdain that’s usually smeared across my face. I pause, and pound my drink. “I can say whatever the fuck I want. So if it makes you uncomfortable, then don’t fucking read it.”

I wasn’t really mad at him, because as I said, he is my very good friend. If you’ve learned anything about me from reading my past posts it’s that I’m a miserable bastard and I hate just about everyone. I do, however, greatly value the people that I don’t hate. These people are my friends. These are the people that love me for the miserable bastard that I am.

Thus, I do my best to ignore it when my friends say stupid fucking retarded shit. Still, I did reflect on his comments. I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I haven’t posted in a while. This has been for a reason. I’m sure it’s not hard to imagine that I’ve burned a lot of bridges in the past few months.

But you know what? I’m not fucking sorry, and I don’t fucking care. I’m not really sorry for anything that I’ve done. I may not always feel great about my choices, but they’re my fucking choices, so fuck you if feel otherwise.

Not long after my last post concerning Sarah’s response to my blog, I had a few more exchanges with her and we have finally reached a true state of closure. Readers, if this interests you, I will gladly post the last few e-mails I exchanged with her for your reading enjoyment. Please request them in your comments, otherwise I will simply move on to other topics.

My friend was right in saying that the things I do in my time are none of your god damn business. But fuck that really. Fuck him for saying it to me, and fuck you, if for a second you agreed with it, because that was never the point I was trying to make. If I can offer anyone anything as a writer, it will come from my own experiences directly. I’m not embarrassed, ashamed, and again, I’m not fucking sorry. Keeping these things secret isn’t going to do anyone any good. So maybe I’m sorry if my stories have reflected poorly on some people. But really it’s more that I’m sorry everyone is such a fucking crybaby asshole. You’re not always going to look and be perfect, so fuck you. Let’s get everything out in the open, then maybe people won’t get so fucking upset over nothing. Though, I’m hardly one to talk about not getting upset. Sometimes my anger is all I have.

I’m choosing to make my business public, because this is what I want to do. I want to write, and share the things that I learn with others, and hope they will do the same with me. I have burned a lot of bridges, but it doesn’t matter. The people who have stuck by me through the past few months are the only people that matter.

There is a fine line between fiction and reality. Often enough one will find that they are one and the same.

So let me apologize for taking so long to get back in business. The air up here is cool again, and I intend to get right back into pissing everyone off. Just because I haven’t written anything in a while doesn’t mean that nothing has been happening. So please stay tuned. I promise to post something funny very soon.

There’s also a strong chance it’s about my penis.