It's All In
Your My Head
I Found this in my INBOX the other day:
Jimmy-Thanks, Chris. 'Priciate it!
This is just a note to say how much I love your blog.
I especially like your writing style -- you write the way I think!
Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that.
I don't know if you'd call it a writing style, though. I write the way I talk. If you ask anyone who's had a conversation with me, they'd tell you I talk pretty much like this. It's not fancy, but then it really doesn't have to be as long as my point (if I actually have one) get's across.
I write, it gets written, I do a spell-check and then I post and publish.
It's not something I think too much about.
I might write the way you think (or the way you think you might think), but I certainly don't write the way I think.
If I wrote the way I think, a typical post might go something like this:
Isn't it strange that any CDs you buy have lyrics printed in the little book thingie in the front of the jewel case, but Rap and Hip-Hop CDs don't? Do Hip-Hop artists not want you to know what the lyrics are? To get the lyrics you have to either listen to the song a couple hundred times, or do a search on the internet. Who has time for that? All CDs should come with lyrics if you ask me. That's the problem -- nobody asked me! If any artist needs a lyric sheet, it would be Snoop Dogg. (S to the N to the double-O P, D to the O to the double-G!) Where was I? Oh, yeah --Snoop Dogg. Half the time I can't understand half of what he's trying to say. I think that means only one quarter of what he says ever gets through, but I'm bad at math, so let's not dwell on it, shall we? Why do they make CDs so difficult to open, anyway? First you have to remove the shrink wrap, which is impossible to do with only your hands unless you have some kind of length to your fingernails, which I don't, and then you have to take off that sticker on the top, which most likely will leave that tacky residue on the front of the jewel case (why do they call them "jewel cases", anyway?) and that's just gross, you know? Tacky residue sucks! I know they sell that CD opener gizmo at the music store for five dollars, but I'm not paying five dollars for a small piece of plastic that was made somewhere in China by somebody making seven cents an hour, which is probably like five American dollars an hour, which isn't really bad when you think about it. "Yay! I got a job at the factory where they make those CD opener thingies!" I can almost hear someone shouting. They'd shout it in Chinese, though. They wouldn't shout it in English, would they? If they did, they'd have other Chinese people saying to them, "Hey, you're in China, buddy! Speak Chinese!" And of course, that would be in Chinese, too, because that's what people speak in China, right? Where was I? Oh, yeah -- China. There are an awful lot of people in China, aren't there? Like five million or so people. That's alot of fucking people! Why do they keep having babies? There's alot of people fucking, that's why! You'd think they'd do something about it, wouldn't you? About all the babies, not about the fucking. People are gonna screw no matter what kind of law you pass. You'd think they'd have clinics on every other corner giving out free vasectomies and tube-tying operations. Even with some kind of support group (Fornicators Anonymous?) people are defin'ly gonna screw anyway, so contraception is defin'ly the way to go, Right? Speaking of contraception, don't you think it's a little odd that we call condoms "rubbers" when they're not really made of rubber? We should be calling them "latexes", shouldn't we? That's what I think, anyway. . . .And so forth.
A horrible mis-mash block of run-on scentences and going off on tangents every other second. That's how my mind works, usually.
It might be fun to read once in awhile, but you wouldn't want to have to suffer through it every day, would you?
Well, would you?