The Wall

I switch on my comp. I ease into my lazy routine, checking orkut and facebook. I check my mail, certain grad school websites, other occasional unmentionables and I slowly melt into the faceless moronic majority of web users, happy and contented.

Then I stumble on some upstart blog which actually manages to be funny and interesting and makes the person who wrote it seem really, really cool and make you want to meet him/her!( he he) and somehow sponge off their .... hmmm whatever it is you expect to gain by suffering the same putrid air as their whereabouts.

So I start thinking... Why can't I write like one of those wonderful people. They must really be experiencing life at a whole different plane. Then things turn bad. Really good blogs which evince some level of cogent thought and clever insight and which manage to pull it off without pulling a yawn make me depressed. How dare they shamelessly exhibit their wonderful crappy life. At that point there is so much I finally realise that I am missing that I actually start examining and deconstructing my drab existence. Which is why I always feel content after reading a depressed blog post. Misery loves company after all.

Why the fish are some people happy irrespective of the numerous feet that may smite their hindquarters. Its sickening I tell you. And all the people, the books, unshaven swamis and chicken soups and what not. If not for enough of insecure, cavilling, capricious, know it all, naggers like me in the world, you would all choke on your own bloody happiness. And there'd be no misery or discontent to Heimlich your ass.

So to all the people who are more interesting than me. Be thankful that I'm here.

Now. Go. Drop Dead.

And may the force be with you....

And for all the morons, idiots and bimbos who wouldnt bother reading this. This is a Dingo. In case you didnt know.

And no. Its not because I care.