an equation of none.

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now. >>

This is how I wanted this blog to end, on a whim and a prayer manifested via tight-lipped grimace extending into a grunt of pain. Oh you beauty, you bloodstained, narcissistic beauty. Replete with images for shock value, as if anything is capable of being truly shocking in this day and age. Like every other fucking blog I had, infused with just enough of me to play the tragic iconoclast, raging against gawd knows what, perhaps merely as a way of sustaining the fires of life; a curious still life though, endlessly self-referential and dripping with an inexplicable disgruntlement. Writing here was therapy like beating your head against the wall is stress relief plus with willful obscurity, the hints, the analogies and metaphors thrown in to boot. The posts spoken with a tongue forked, not through lying, but as the result of having been bitten through. You know how much blood is shed saying what you want to say without actually saying it? It's like having a night of passion with a vampire, but with Nosferatu - not the dashing, sexy Count Draculas' of more mainstream myth.

It is significant that last para. - I started out talking about the blog and ended up talking about, well y'know...regit - that bastardization of nickname, which is a bastardization of a shortened form of my real name. We’re all about the bastards here.

Where was I? I’ve never been able to distinguish myself from my writing. And for the first time I can’t contain, can’t define, explore, dissect myself with writing. The things that eat away at me, those cancerous manifestations of the voices in my head that extrude from my pores black and malevolent. They no longer ebb and flow as they once did, rather they spurt through, catching me unawares but still with the capacity to bring me to my knees. I have not ability to transform these latest slicks into words, to dip my fingers into the oozing darkness and paint entertaining pictures.

Regit such a fucking dinosaur it should be a incomplete skeleton in a museum, its sole purpose for warm-blooded living things to stare at it and speculate just what manner of curious creature it was.

Goodbye | Fuck this

mail : bigreg at budweiser dot com