(no subject)
I have loved two things in my life. They are, in no particular order: Katie Jay and Mother Russia. The former professes to love me back and the latter is a large nation on which I have never set foot. So, in conclusion, I have absolutely no idea where I'm going with this.
It's unbelievable how frequently I begin talking with absolutely no target conversation in mind. No destination, no goal, no idea what I'm about to say or how people will respond to my words. Surprisingly, the reaction is rarely physical violence. But, even if it was, I wouldn't believe in censoring myself. Censorship and gravity have a lot in common, it turns out.
For this reason, I don't partake in friends-only entries. The other reason I don't partake in friends-only entries is that I don't know how to partake in friends-only entries, but we're going to concentrate on the ethical dilemma for the moment. I can only count two occasions in which this journal has burned me . . . and only one of those was ugly. But, the point is that it isn't the journal that does the burning -- it's indubitably the readers, the members of the Gavin Fan Club. Yes, you. Okay, not you. But you. In the frilly red thing.
There are only two conclusions that can readily be drawn from these facts: the Gavin Fan Club possesses either traitors or idiots. Or a little of both. Yeah, I wouldn't have guessed either.
There's a conclusion to be drawn from these conclusions, too. Something deep and profound, possibly witty. Maybe filled with chocolaty goodness. The conclusion is for you to make. Except for the idiots -- I'll make it for them: you are stupid. And for the traitors: you are ugly.
The other thing I've decided is that the Gavin Fan Club needs periodical mailings. These will, most likely, take the form of Christmas cards. Or, death threats. I plan to flip a coin to decide who gets what. But if you would like to take your chances, you can leave me your address (or e-mail it to me, if that's more comfortable - gmrose43@hotmail.com), and I won't let you down.
There's something strangely liberating about laying it all on the table and getting "I need to think about it" as a response. Liberating like a fox.
So, in conclusion, Workers of the World unite!
It's unbelievable how frequently I begin talking with absolutely no target conversation in mind. No destination, no goal, no idea what I'm about to say or how people will respond to my words. Surprisingly, the reaction is rarely physical violence. But, even if it was, I wouldn't believe in censoring myself. Censorship and gravity have a lot in common, it turns out.
For this reason, I don't partake in friends-only entries. The other reason I don't partake in friends-only entries is that I don't know how to partake in friends-only entries, but we're going to concentrate on the ethical dilemma for the moment. I can only count two occasions in which this journal has burned me . . . and only one of those was ugly. But, the point is that it isn't the journal that does the burning -- it's indubitably the readers, the members of the Gavin Fan Club. Yes, you. Okay, not you. But you. In the frilly red thing.
There are only two conclusions that can readily be drawn from these facts: the Gavin Fan Club possesses either traitors or idiots. Or a little of both. Yeah, I wouldn't have guessed either.
There's a conclusion to be drawn from these conclusions, too. Something deep and profound, possibly witty. Maybe filled with chocolaty goodness. The conclusion is for you to make. Except for the idiots -- I'll make it for them: you are stupid. And for the traitors: you are ugly.
The other thing I've decided is that the Gavin Fan Club needs periodical mailings. These will, most likely, take the form of Christmas cards. Or, death threats. I plan to flip a coin to decide who gets what. But if you would like to take your chances, you can leave me your address (or e-mail it to me, if that's more comfortable - gmrose43@hotmail.com), and I won't let you down.
There's something strangely liberating about laying it all on the table and getting "I need to think about it" as a response. Liberating like a fox.
So, in conclusion, Workers of the World unite!