Well, there you go. My advance alert, the A.R.T.H.R.I.T.I.S. system was working, possibly not as intended, but worked nonetheless. My agony these past few days has accurately predicted the snowstorm we have going on.
It’s snowing as hard AF. I mean, so hard you can barely see across the street hard. Brown Christmas averted and massive body aches explained. You know, the curl up into a ball because you might accidentally make it feel better kind of pain, but it never works and you just end up being a ball of pain instead of finding any relief. At least the kiddos are less stressed about how Santa will land his sleigh.
If I expected Santa leave any presents for me instead a visit from Krampus (I’m not even going to pretend I was a good boy), I might ask him for someone to chat about life, the universe and everything with that isn’t part of the household. I can imagine it now, unwrapping a large present that the elves had a hard time wrapping due to it’s irregular shape and finding a new adult friend inside. But I’m not getting presents from Santa and everyone would look at me askance for requesting a female model if he did. I mean, I’d take a male or gender neutral person to talk about life, the universe and everything with, but I tend to be more open with the female variant. It’s the whole “boys don’t cry” thing and those kinds of themes that make other blokes kind of shy away and I don’t want to break my friend in a box on the very first day. Female friends in a box are generally understanding that the “boy’s don’t cry” thing is a bunch of bullshit and tend to not give a damn if the boy is 12 or 50 years old. So, if you could put in a good word with Santa about him finding someone to shoot the shite with…
I know I’m over-posting. I can’t help it. Sorry. I’ve got a lot of poems trying to get out lately and, while it is probably the bad actors that escape most frequently, I know the occasional slightly bad ones get out as well. And they’re not that bad, just misunderstood.
I think it’s been long enough to comment on a Contact Form communique I received a month or two ago. It was sad that I had to state it on the contact form itself, but I was really appalled at the gall of the guy who basically said, “Send me followers, especially email followers.” This guy had never “liked” a post until that day, starred a bunch of shit he didn’t possibly have time to read and then follows up with a contact form asking me to send him followers and post links to him. I checked out his WordPress site and I was, putting it mildly, unimpressed with the content, which seemed to revolve around some super hero fetish and involved in him talking in third person about himself. The super hero fetish is cool, whatever floats your boat — but the third person thing was one sure way to make certain I wouldn’t visit ever again. Nor send anyone. Ever. I have a few pet peeves and saying things like “Michael Raven will now post something super cool because Michael Raven is your friend” is at the top of the list… I don’t think I’ve stopped shuddering. Anyway, I shouldn’t have to say it, but I don’t follow folks based on solicitation, nor will I link to sites asking for links. If I don’t follow you, but you follow me, it’s not because you aren’t doing something interesting, it’s just possibly not all that interesting to an old, dark, dreary, former goth with serious depression issues. Most of it is good, the stuff I glance at, I just don’t want to have to skip it in my reader. I appreciate the follows, but I don’t reciprocate unless I think we have something in common — usually poetry, fiction, art or a strange sense of self with the awareness to go along with that strange sense of self. Uber-positive or religious messages, how-to sites, sales-sites (in general, with some exceptions) and self-help…. I’m less likely to follow because they don’t fit my reading needs. I’m sorry if that is offensive. But I most definitely don’t follow just because someone expects me to when they ask. I certainly don’t expect you to follow this site if you find it offensive, boring, or just not your cup of tea. In fact, I don’t want to be a bother, so don’t follow me unless you actually like what I write.
When you don’t see people, you let down your looks, as I have. I mean, what looks I have (which were nothing to scream about) went to Coronavirus hell lately. I mowed down the overgrowth on my beard this afternoon and there was much rejoicing. None of the dreaded neck-beard Zoe hates so much on men any longer! Still — beard. I dunno, I look like that ugly boy from the neighborhood without one (in spite of the grey hair and wrinkles) and the beard covers up some of the punch-ugly. I feel a little less ugly, but only slightly less. So the beard stays, which will mean Zoe will disown me as a follower and then I’ll really have to be a good boy to get a friend from Santa.
I also hear these sounds when I leave the room. I wonder what that means.