I once tried to make a commitment to blogging multiple times a week—a month later I quit blogging, pretty much left twitter, and secluded myself in my apartment away from people for a good while. I guess you could say this is my “come back” except we ought not to call it that because that would have implications of me not being fickle when it comes to fucking everything.
As far as my day to day goes, nothing has really changed in these 4 months without a blog. I’m still living alone and laying in bed for hours every morning thinking about how much better I would feel if I just got out of bed and took a shower—except I often find I can’t. Every two weeks I go shopping for groceries to cook healthyish meals at home that I’ll never make because I can’t bring myself to do the dishes in the sink—I end up eating out of cans or just plain out. (Believe me when I tell you that my body is showing the signs of neglect. This is probably over sharing but I really don’t care anymore.)
In my last entry, just days before I pulled my blog from the internet, I mentioned that a friend said my blog should be more about me and not just “shock jock blogging.”
Well here I am: Fat, lazy and probably dying.