so i’m writing a blog post which i know for a fact will wind up one of the 3 billion meaningless and instantly forgotten blog posts that are created daily in america, just as i am leading a life as one of 6 or 7 billion meaningless and instantly forgotten people who carpet the earth like lice . . . well, no, i’m exagerrating my nihilism a little, but it’s true that whereas once blogging was exciting because of the attention i got now it’s just a little tedious because nothing significant happens.  it may even be slightly hypocritical because i’m totally uninterested in anyone else’s blogs.  but i’m writing as practice for the fiction i’m working on.  you have to keep going even when it all seems pointless.  i’ve seen the power of working a little at a time over years — that’s how i developed my ability to dream lucidly and read people psychically.  someday i’ll be able to write fiction that pleases me.  i may never get published, and who cares anyway?  

it’s so sad to have artistic talent in the 21st century.  when i was a kid artists were like heroes, now they’re just characters in a trashy, sordid soap opera of media buffoonery . . . thankfully i believe in higher worlds and life after death.  i know i’m developing qualities that will improve my enjoyment of the afterlife . . . i don’t have to give a fuck what anyone in this world thinks about me.