Fluff. I feel that pure fluffy shit has been coming out of my fingers as I try to write blog posts. The world is going by so fast and sometimes I feel like I’m on the sidewalk waiting for a light to tell me when I can cross. The problem is, there is no light. There is no crosswalk, just passing cars filled with propaganda, think pieces, real shit, and cupcakes for racists. It’s almost sensory overload.
There are people who say everything I want to say much better than I would. So my life right now is about re-tweeting and liking posts on social media, which is cool, but I feel like I should do more. When I do come up with something it’s often times… fluff.
All this to say that this has been a horrible year. I know that most people will tell me that I get a pass because my aunt died which is fair to a certain extent. I just started to re-energize by completing the first chapter of my next book, but I still feel that something is off with me and my writing habits when it comes to this blog in particular.
Perhaps I need to refocus on other things but the problem with that is that even if I start something new like writing only about comic books, I will eventually get mad enough to talk about the current state of affairs. Then again, I don’t even know what that would look like outside of fluff.
Maybe it’s because the world in an enigma now. What’s up is now down. Racists have a real platform. Fake news is now real news or is real news now fake news? How does a creative person create fiction in a world where nothing seems real? This is what I struggle with because it is all fluff. Do I really want to write about shit that doesn’t matter to anyone but more specifically, me?
My next two blog posts will prove my point. I will still post them but they are crap. Just shit that I came up with because I just have nothing better to write about. But, think about this, Prince died and Trump is about to be the new POTUS. Shit doesn’t makes sense. It’s all fluff from this point out.
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