Unprepared and Unexcused: a beginning

I mustn't think about what it is I am going to write. If I do that, I will [inevitably] write that which was never meant to be written.

Who is the one who is going to ask me about these things, anyhow? No one even asked me to write in the first place! And yet: here you are. So I will try to keep your attention, at least for 5 or seven minutes or so.

In the meantime, I will bring to your attention—as it has been brought to mine—that I am faced with the option of labeling this blog with a tag, I suppose for search related reasons. The bar says this exactly:

Labels for this post:
e.g. scooters, vacation, fall ____________________________

So what do I do with that, exactly? I don't have time to be labeling and associating all kinds of topics for the purposes of convenience! I've an audience to allure!

So don't expect to find yourself reading about pirates or yachting adventures or jellyfish or racial prejudice because I will NOT have this blog turned into a forum for, um, anything quite so specific, because as far as I'm concerned, such things are specific to nothing.
Here you will read, if you choose, of tensions and expectations in day-to-day life, nuances and pleasantries, and matters of trivial importance that will leave you wondering why you came here and me knowing you'll return.

If you disagree, think about this: I haven't even started toward my objective to keep your skeptic little tush plastered in that chair for the length of precisely one Blog. If I had, you'd still be reading this.

Interj.: If you are still reading this, it is too late for me to tell you to skip paragraphs 2 through six as they are unrelated to this blog and were merely recreational and could actually be contributing to your failing health. Why did you do that? What are thinking about? Anyway, don't feel bad about it; it was mostly my fault. But seriously, try to keep your head in the game. This isn't some kind of cosmetology school where you can just doze off through the reading sections and still pass your midterm. Cowboy up.

Oh, hi! If you're just joining us, today we're talking about Scooter's vacation fall. It looks like he's going to need to spend a little more time on the slopes. That Scoot'—always up to something!

And speaking of scooting up to something,

great.
Don't you hate it when a setup takes you nowhere? That is, of course, unless you are set up as the fall guy in a heist—then I'm sure you'd rather not be taken anywhere.
But this in itself was not all that great of a lead-in, so the fact that this blog's level of writing was not hurt much has me a bit worried. It should have come down quite a bit, but it doesn't seem to have affected it. This can surely be better captured through the majesty of poem:

"And when you fell from that great height,
was it not the raven who looked at you
and laughed because he knew the fact
that your blogs aren't that tight?"

Yea, verily. A curse be upon you, raven. For a thousand generations.

I just don't have the stuff in me right now to be captivating. I need some kind of sugary fruit drink or a swarm of bees or something. I know! I'll feign abduction...alien abduction. Well, I'll feign something, and it'll be worth your attention. You'll see.

In the meantime, I still haven't thought of a good way to get the reading audience engaged and entertained. But with the thought of bloggal entertainment on the mind, have you ever thought about what has become of blogs these days? They've become a breeding ground for all sorts of foolish thinking and mindless circumlocution. Listen, (for the last time), I'm all for keeping an online journal to record one's thoughts and recount precious moments for all to see, but we're making freelance writers out of people that shouldn't be allowed to own dictionaries. And then you end up with these loud mouth, over-opinionated, under-medicated people who think that just because their name is on the Constitution, that means they're supposed to write a blog. Well I hope they don't decide to bear arms for the same reason because the mortality rate of IMBECILES would be egregious.

And that's how to write satire. Tune in next week when we discover the differences between elegance and eloquence.

Or, stay tuned in and see if our hero can't find a way to keep his audience at peace. Seriously, there's a tomato on the computer screen—like, on the outside. And I threw it. This needs work. No, not work...confidence. Readers. I need food. Maybe I'll go drink a peach shake without ice cream and then make some mac n' cheese while I try to write my next blog. Yeah, that's what I'll do.

Press on to acknowledge Him,
Until we see His face,