I am in something called 2000 bloggers. How? I don’t know. I’m not going to link to it cause that would be playing the game, no?
Sometimes the internet is like being in love. You move from the singularities of one event of bafflement to another, but it is an ok sense of being baffled, because you realise you are alive. But then you read Vice magazine, like I did today for the first time. And you realise that Love is something dirty, like an aperitive appetition actualising the soul of a quirky middle-class webcam kid who dresses ‘cartoon’ by making colour her bitch. Yeah “whatevas” (but in a nasty, cooler-than-hard kind of way that you say to the cab driver after he has proven you do, in fact, owe him another FUCKING $2). Cynical? No, I just appreciate the accident of life for what it is. Thinking about it now is like remembering that time that woman wore that top, which made me think that she must have known that was going to happen, therefore on some level she must have wanted it to happen. It was a sunny day. Very bright. And it happened. And then it happened.
Yeah, but, seriously: 2000 bloggers, and I’m the best looking.
Ok, maybe the 5th.