I honestly can’t remember what I’m doing here (2019 honesty)

I’m not sure how or when it happened but I’ve lost, or misplaced, my drive or inclination to write journal entries. Drive might be an overstatement of sorts but I don’t know quite how to use enlightened inertia in a sentence. The two most likely suspects are Me or Y’all. I’m thinking it’s probably y’all because even inactivity is too active a stance for the likes of me.

I am so motherfucking rusty at this. Not the physical act of typing so much as the thinking of entries sort of — um, thought? I’m sure this is true of everyone; you have to have your mind screwed on right (or left to be gauche about it or right to left to get all Hebraic on your ass) … shit, my trains of thoughts derail at the least provocation. Let’s try this again shall we? I think most people when salivating for letter writing or fuming for letters to the editor yank from their own personal thought-macros the template that fits the intent, so that things don’t come out — My dearest Love muffin you sanctimonious bitch in heat, I think fondly of you with every waking moment and would like to see you roasting in the level of hell reserved for incompetent journalists … and so on and so forth.

I just forgot how to access the Haredawg Journal Entry template. Let’s pretend for a moment that I was a haredawg apologist, I might say “It’s 2019 and we are all a bit ennuied, even saying good morning can be construed as some frothing at the mouth rant, and, conversely to raise above novice dissenter you need to string at least five expletives in a row (e.g. Fuck sucking … shit, wait … fuck cock whore bitch shit. Hmmm now I’m wondering how to do that and make a bit of sense.) to even qualify. As far as apologists go that’s fairly tame but I do have a close personal relationship with the implied antagonist.

I began a florid Facebook addiction. Addiction sounds a pinch to Oprah for my tastes, more like a florid misdirection. Sure, in practice social media is much more similar to other social media than it is to, say, reality, or even practical fiction, but the templates are different. Though Facebook doesn’t have the limitations that twitter does, (see more is more of an invitation to stroll through other sites along the ADHD tourist route than it is an invitation to see more) it has more limitations than a journal. The upside to Facebook over twitter is the active presence of president Trump. I’m surprised Twitter hasn’t pulled up stakes and taken the carney to the next town. Just saying. The journal template has no high-end word count limit whereas Facebook doesn’t really have such a thing either, I get nervous after a page the way I do when I wake up drunk in the dark under a train car in Frankenmuth Michigan, like I know that moment is going to make up half of my obit.

So, yeah, the template for a journal entry or a Facebook entry are wildly different. Hell, I’ll even do a Facebook entry from my phone, madness! If Cervantes had written of the relationship between me and my phone, I’m pretty sure I’d be the windmill or maybe the horse. I have a certain ‘why’dja make the print so damn small and quit ringing at me’ approach to smart phones. My phone retaliates with auto-correct, and evolutionary adaptation to repel insects and haredawgs.

Shit I was going somewhere poignant. I don’t think ‘It’s been a while since writing here’ was the upshot, but, if I knew for sure I’d have a bit of a clue as to what I thought might have been poignant. One thing I think is safe to rule out is a master plan whether benevolent or Machiavellian. I certainly haven’t followed any known template.