And so it begins. I try not to look furtively over my shoulder as I do this. A blog? So what do I write in a blog? Doesn’t matter at this point. I’m writing in it already. So now people can read the crap I write and laugh. See, I’m paranoid already. That’s me, the paranoid scribbler, always looking at the dark side, and I don’t mean the Darth Vader kind of dark side. More like the ‘why the hell can’t I do better than this’ dark side. Maybe thats why most of what people write never sees the light of day? I am probably wrong with this. Wiki says there are millions of blogs out there, so tons of people are having their stuff exposed to the light of day. Then again, maybe not. Who reads this stuff anyway? Is this like an alternate universe where you can live vicariously as who you imagine yourself to be? What if others don’t like your alternate persona? Can you be as paranoid in an alternate universe as in this one? I feel like a dog trying to catch his tail. So close but always just out of reach. But I’ll catch that damn thing someday, even if I have to reach inside out and get it from within. If a blog goes unread does it exist? Does the simple act of writing on this page make it so? Maybe I should be the existential blogger, but I like paranoid better. I’m paranoid, (who would have guessed? ), and I’m paranoid that others are not as paranoid as I am. God, what a juvenile play on words. I should leave this before it gets worse, but I can’t. Like scratching a wound that’s scabbed over. You know its going to take longer to heal, but it feels sooooo good! Maybe tomorrow I’ll have something saner to say. Don’t follow me. I have no money and there is no computer in my car.

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