I WAS BORN A RAMBLIN MAN
TRY TO MAKE A LIVIN AND DOIN THE BEST I CAN
For some reason I fucking love that song so much today. Mainly the word doin, and the twang that goes with it.
You know, during I believe Hurricane Charlie (maybe Katrina), I met a guy who said he used to be the drummer for that band. I was with my friend and we went to this house that I had been to for a slumber birthday party when I was in the first grade. The same people lived there but I’d moved around a bit and didn’t try to rekindle the good ol days. Anyways, the man of the house’s buddy comes over and starts goin crazy on the drums, then he says he used to be the drummer (or is the drummer) of that band. I didn’t know I liked them that much at the time.
Anyways, that is totally not important in the long run, just today.
I don’t even think I use this blog correctly. I mean, where the fuck are Bonedead’s Adventures? Do you see one? Because I sure don’t. I honestly don’t even care about the shit anymore. What did I even want to accomplish? Well visitors is one thing, chalk that one up to the e-peen. I wanted people to listen to me I’m sure, so chalk another one up for the e-peen. I bet I even had some pipe dreams of my favorite MMO game dev’s falling in love with me and bowing to all my wishes and needs, which I guess would go to e-peen, amirite?
Well, none of that shit happened. I haven’t really written any good ideas, any text with any substance (besides THC), or anything that wasn’t written for the sole purpose of being read. You may say, well why write things if they’re not meant to be read? Well, because then you really mean it.
What was my original goal with discussing gaming? Well I think I wanted to make them, I wanted to make the next awesome one, I thought that I could take all of my experiences with all of the games I’ve played and shit out a turd you never wanted to put down. And maybe I can, maybe it’s fucking stuck inside my head. But guess what, that is where it is staying. I simply don’t see myself learning a coding language, I’m too me to fucking do it. I could say I’m too young to motivate myself, I’m too unmotivated, I smoke too much weed, but the best excuse is that I am me. It sort of just encompasses all the bad excuses into one “fuck you I do what I want”.
I am looking forward to playing with Raph’s tools, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I made a fucking character creation screen and then quit.
I guess where I am right now, in general, is on the edge of a blade. I’m supposed to fall but I can’t decide which way. I mean there really is no point for me to be writing things here. Most of my readers are random googlers finding shit they don’t even want. I mean yeah I’ve got a couple of you crazies who for some fucking reason read my shit, but you know it has gone down hill fucking real fast.
I just don’t know if I still get anything out of this blog. I used to feel cool because I had visitors, then I went to being proud that I’d stuck with something for so long, now I just use it as a bookmark site/diary. I mean I have learned probably one thing from this blog and that is that I could use google to make money off of google, if I tried hard enough.
Do I want to do that? Not really. Whenever I am given a task relating to gaming I try to make it more about gaming. Remember when I said someone was going to pay me for my services? Yeah boy was I stroking my imaginary e-peen or what? He was just a guy from PKer.org who believed people actually read my blog (wonder where he got that idea….). He wanted me to write a little diddy about jack and…. I mean a comparison of DAoCs RvR (what it is now) and Warhammer’s RvR (what it is going to be). I for some reason decided that this meant I needed to do some research on DAoC RvR. I needed to play a pimped out level 50, no ifs ands or buts about it.
Well needless to say, the fail train pulled in and I was the only person who got on. This would’ve totally been a good morale booster for me, and I didn’t even care.
What the fuck am I even talking about man, seriously. Fucking diary, I told you. Here I am at work, I get up and do some shit and I don’t even remember what the fuck I’m talking about. It is not important really. Oh yeah I remember, I was being a fucking cry baby.
I’m not quittin, but it’s not getting any better. If I decide I wanna make money then I will start posting more generic bullshit containing lots of detailed information with a lot of fucking keywords for google to pick up and then I’ll slap some fucking clicky money generators all over the fuckin place and be like BLING BLING BITCHES.
Lord, I was born a Ramblin’ Man
Tryin to make a livin and doin the best I can
(MY FAVORITE PART IS WHEN HE SAYS DOIN WITH THAT TWANG!)
It makes me want to be a redneck fuck, seriously.