Yesterday, in a sudden spurt of impulse shopping on the internet I signed up at SG.
In the light of day now, I don't regret it but the disappointment to find out that spending money really hasn't improved the weight of my soul. The last few days have been filled with the shuffling of money through my hands after a two month period of reasonable fiscal responsibility. At least sending money to Missy Suicide didn't stick me with another 'thing' to hold on to and somehow giving money to beautiful women doesn't hurt as much. A 'Save the Fringe Models' campaign of one.
So, I thinkith to myself let's use this SG thing for something more than titillation. Let's start a journal. Keep track of my uprooted self and tell my stories to the wavelengths. A message in a bottle on the High Seas of the Web.
I am somewhat disappointed in the photo I found of myself in the bowels of my hard drive. Last time I flashed it online was to some Russian gold digging broad on ICQ. She contacted me, then in two sentences asked for a picture. So I oblige and get the reply "That's awful." Stupid Ruskie cunt. I didn't ask for an opinion... Just goes to show I guess, that 6'4 with long Blonde Hair doesn't always equate to Fabio or Lestat or whatever fucking ideal exists for men. But it gets the point across. I should make off with the Digicam from work more often and do a little more photojournalism.
In the light of day now, I don't regret it but the disappointment to find out that spending money really hasn't improved the weight of my soul. The last few days have been filled with the shuffling of money through my hands after a two month period of reasonable fiscal responsibility. At least sending money to Missy Suicide didn't stick me with another 'thing' to hold on to and somehow giving money to beautiful women doesn't hurt as much. A 'Save the Fringe Models' campaign of one.
So, I thinkith to myself let's use this SG thing for something more than titillation. Let's start a journal. Keep track of my uprooted self and tell my stories to the wavelengths. A message in a bottle on the High Seas of the Web.
I am somewhat disappointed in the photo I found of myself in the bowels of my hard drive. Last time I flashed it online was to some Russian gold digging broad on ICQ. She contacted me, then in two sentences asked for a picture. So I oblige and get the reply "That's awful." Stupid Ruskie cunt. I didn't ask for an opinion... Just goes to show I guess, that 6'4 with long Blonde Hair doesn't always equate to Fabio or Lestat or whatever fucking ideal exists for men. But it gets the point across. I should make off with the Digicam from work more often and do a little more photojournalism.