So first thing’s first, let me get this out of the way, because it’s been weighing heavily on my heart for a while and frankly, I don’t have the stomach for any more negativity than my current serving of woe. (Which, thank God and all the Saints, is mercifully small.) So here it is:
I don’t give two flying phantom fucks what you think of me, or what I write, or, more importantly, why I write.
If I know you, if I don’t know you, if our paths crossed on a winter’s eve under a full moon in another dimension, doesn’t matter. Because I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.
(NB Mom, this does not include you lmao) (Or you, dragon-slayer, although I know you will never read this, you contrary thing you)
This stupid blog that people do seem to love mocking is meant for one person only: me. I am happy for the handful of views I get on each post, and grateful, and a little proud, too – and to all of you guys who seem to enjoy this weird book-slinging bitch yelling, often profanely and, worse, alliteratively, about random books, thanks.
If you think it’s stupid, fine. I don’t care. If you think I’m a loser, or a nerd, or an idiot, hey, guess what, bingo, bitch. If you think it’s pointless and that I should try to do something with it, like make money or gain followers or build a brand… nah. That’s not why I do this.
I do this because I’m a nerdy loser idiot who likes books and likes writing and really really likes gifs. That’s it. And that’s enough. It’s fun. I enjoy it. I don’t have any plans to do anything more with it. It is exactly what I want to be. This blog… this blog is a tiny ornamental wicker chair placed lovingly atop a cabinet tv in an upper middle class Midlands suburban home in 1986.
Yes it is, Flip. Yes it is.
– xo, R