An Idiot
December 29, 2022
I'm pretty sure why I'm writing this is to give back to the internet. When I was growing up, the internet was a place of creative works made by "faulty" humans. Now they only thing you'll find is overly-sanitized, socially-acceptable quips (a la Twitter or Reddit) or highly-polished, professional-grade commercial work. My question: where are the idiots?
Y'know, the idiots of Newgrounds or the YouTube poops of yore? That's what made the internet so fun. I got to see humans having fun and being idiotic. Or, like this dumb dumb shitty poo poo blog where I just talk about random shit?
I used to think against writing blogs and posting work to the internet out of fear of not being socially-acceptable or highly-commercializable. Basically, as I grew older, I only would invest time in things if they were either going to garner upvotes or karma or whatever bullshit social-hijacking mechanic they have nowadays or if it were going to net me some machiavellian-esque financial benefit (in other words, resume padding.)
But I started to stop doing a lot of things due to fear. I stopped being myself due to fear. I started posting online being a mindless drone that repeated the same sanitized shit that everyone loves and gobbles up. Well, I want that to fucking stop because it's boring as shit.
And it's utterly lonely. The NPC meme is definitely real, and I feel the effects of it. And... reality is becoming a lot more depressing. More people are on their phones. More people are on TikTok. Whatever happened to meatspace?
Humans weren't designed for this! Just staring at these electronic screens. Where are the tears? Where is the anger? Where is the pain? The pleasure? Why is this all so highly sanitized and risk-free?
A desire for control is what led to this. Or, something else. Like fate. Or it just did. God. I don't know. Fuck. Where was I going with this?
Where I intend this blog to go
I notice I really enjoy reading things that are... original. Like an edgy essay about chicken tenders. Or an angsty realization about shitty poo poo world. Or a really sappy observation about the night stars or afternoon wind chill. Shit like that. Not Twitter. Not Donaldo Trumpo. Not fucking who knows what gets in what scandal again or why aren't you making millions of dollars with this sick life hack or why aren't you contributing and making people happy or what the fuck are you doing with your life or why aren't you happy take this pill seek therapy cope grow up and go to the gym???
I liked browsing itch.io and just fucking around with random games on there. Wasting my time! I had fun. I really like the stupid games where maybe all you do is get items at a grocery store. I played quite a few games like that. Enjoyed it thoroughly.
So I'll make an effort here to make more original content. Like the title. "An Idiot." Hopefully, you become an idiot too.
And is it just me, or are idiot's easier to be friends with? Like who wouldn't want to be friends with an idiot? They're fun. They're funny. And they need your help. In other words, they need YOU and I don't know a feeling better than that. Sure, they aren't useful in a machiavellian sense, but if I'm looking to be ALIVE I'd rather throw water balloons off a skyscraper drunk and high with my idiot friend than get into arguments about shitty pseud semantics (hint: these arguments produce nothing of value.)
The things humans need
Agency. Privacy. Trust.
Recent Notes on Microservices
Yes. What I've been reading about. Tech! Wonderful tech and it's buzzword filled shit-filled documentation! Hurray! Where most techies can't even explain what it does in simple words.
I notice tech has a lot of bad storytellers. Is it specialization that causes this? Or... perhaps a "masculine brain?" Feminists disagree on this one but I wouldn't discount the idea that men and women have biologically different brains. I mean, there are animals with behavioural gender differences, so why couldn't humans be the same?
Shucks. Who knows nature vs. nurture. Treading on lava.
Dreaming Toad
You ever wonder how great it'd be to just live in a fucking pond? Like murky waters and shit infecting your cloaca. But like, it's peaceful. I don't know. You wouldn't really think or shit, you'd just see the world as it is. Probably get fucking eaten by some shitty dog or bear, but hey, it'd be quite an experience.
Toads don't live in the water though. Just thought I'd clear that up.
You ever watch a piece of media, think, "that's great!" Then go online to find someone wrote a fucking dissertation on a scene? I fucking hate that guy. Sometimes I feel like analyzers like this put more effort into dissecting the medium than the author themself. Too many times I read an author's interview and their answer is retardedly mundane like, "Oh yeah, I started taking care of a couple houseplants so I made up a power based on that" or "my fucking wife divorced me so that character who's based on my now ex-wife is going to get less screen-time." "I just felt like I needed to stop drawing goggles." Or the best one yet "it looked cool."
Ugh. Maybe that's why I like reading manga. It's just so stupid and simple. Guy defeats evil and gets girl. What can get simpler than that? No complexity. No bullshit. No depression. Ahh. But of course guy getting girl is sexist. Is the evil really evil? Where does this guy get his motivations from? Why does the girl even like the guy? Saving someone is simple common courtesy and protected by good Samaritan laws. Why should this bitch now be entitled to this girl's affections? And this evil guy really had a tragic backstory. Jeez. They're really not that evil after all, are they? Who's really evil here? Grey morality?
The Beauty of subpar writing
I like reading really, really amateurish and bad writing. Like it's cathartic. And human. It feels like someone wrote this not to exctract value or manipulate me to feel a certain way. It feels raw and powerful because it's just so damn shitty. It's the closest thing to the damn truth.
That's good feels writing to me. Something that makes me feel a way without manipulating me to feel that certain way. You can feel it when an author tries to do that. Like what I'm doing here. It feels shitty.
Cheers
Okay, cheers.