Reload to Continue

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Special needs kid on the bus stop bench, probably fifteen years old. A couple his age is making out and he stares at them like a chimp who wants to rip their faces off. You can’t even process puberty if you’re normal; what chance does he have.

I always walk this route so I’ve seen this exact thing before, and have blogged about it before. Same goes for everything I’ve ever written. I’ve rephrased the same three thoughts six hundred times like a god damn rapper. Can’t wait to move to Vietnam next week. I owe it to my fucking readers to get off this block and see some new shit. Giant planet where every single second a trillion insane things are happening, and I’m over here doing Groundhog Day, trying to milk a dry tit. This country is a void of inspiration. I hereby retire from writing about Korea. If you miss that vicarious shit, read Expat Hell. I tried to copy him when I first got here and it didn’t work.

Even though I have nothing new to say, I do still have to write and post something today. Group blog commitment. Continue to prove I’m a genius. Nothing new to say so maybe I’ll just talk about what I’m doing right now: I’ve just procured my coffee and am now walking on to the office. Listening to a business podcast by a millionaire because I think it will make me smarter. It won’t. I’ll just keep doing the same dumb shit. Jizz away all my productivity onto this blog while silently banking on a little inheritance somewhere down the line. Mom and Dad are broke but the grandparents aren’t. I’m white; I’ll get something… Fred, stop it. You’ve said all this already. You have nothing new to say… no, wait. I did have one hot insight when I woke up:

I believe everyone else in the world is better than me, but also that I am better than everyone else.

But I don’t know what to do with it, so you can have it. My attention is fractured. I’m trying to negotiate an international move and plan the goodbye party all while holding down forty-five cocksucking hours a week at work. The extra stress makes it feel like someone stuck a 9mm in my ear and pulled the trigger. Can’t latch onto a thought, can’t be fucked with good blogging. If you want subpar blogging, though, keep it locked right here. I’m both a better and worse writer than you are, so take what you need from me, whether that be inspiration or superiority.

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Deleted Thoughts:

-Re: blogging. These days I’m back into writing fiction and it’s kind of god damn good, but I can’t post it because you fuckers are ironically repelled by fiction. Somehow a fiction post on a blog attracts negative page views. It’s rejected if it’s not a first person deconstruction of my Feelings or what I had for breakfast. Banana and green tea, by the way.

-I was gonna say this up there when I was talking about that podcast: I am sick of rebooting myself and trying new things, thinking they will make me better, only to continually snap back into my natural mold. But I’ll stay stuck in this loop anyway because there’s no other option. But that was too long and I didn’t feel like rewording it. Free thought: fuck with it if you want.

-Also re: podcast — If I were a millionaire I’d launch a podcast with purposefully bad advice. That’s probably what they all do. Fuck over the competition before they can become competition. Good play. When I become King of the Internet I plan on giving you bad writing lessons.

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Fred Colton

Posted in WritingTagged Simple Jack