A Break From Our Normally Scheduled Programming

One thing I always like to do with a new blog before I publish it is to flesh out about half a dozen posts and kind of see what direction the blog tends to go in. Every blog seems to have a direction of its own that it naturally gravitates towards, and it's best to get a feel for that direction before you begin to seriously try to engage a readership. I know that might sound weird, but in my experience that is some real-deal shit. It's all about the title, the tone, the audience, it's really less about creating a blog as is it babysitting one that already exists in your mind and no matter how hard you try, some blogs can never be steered into the right direction. Uninspired Idiocy seems to be riding the rails of amusing anecdote, but that wasn't the case for all past blogs. For example, I was working out a blog titled The Art of Yelling at Bugs, a blog about the inherent futility of life itself and it just took a really mean turn early on. It was based upon the metaphorical construct of yelling at bugs, an act akin to pissing in the wind, a true exercise in futility. Seems like a fun blog right? Yeah, I know. The tone of the blog was never positive, it was just.... well, it was downright depressing. I never published it, although I did archive a few posts based solely upon the fact that, even though they were depressing, they had a passion and prose that I liked and wanted to preserve. So, from the failed and deleted blog The Art of Yelling at Bugs:

For the first time in my life, I woke up this morning feeling every bit of twenty seven years old. Grey hairs beginning to rise from my scalp, eyes bagged and heavy with the burden of days filled with manic happiness and sleepless nights of drunken self loathing, it all showed through at that single instance. It was one of those mornings that convinced me that my life could be cast into prose by an omniscient narrator with the phrase “And so it came to be that, at the age of twenty seven…” Unfortunately, I know that nothing good ever grows from the rich soil of “and so it came to be”. And so it came to be that I spent my free sober moments casting out into the endless abyss of the internet, anything that I feel important to me at any given time, but strictly within the confines of a blog that no one reads. But isn’t that the point? I mean, the metaphorical construct of Yelling at Bugs was that everything in life is basically an act of futility that few would notice, and among those, fewer would care. Sure, I yelled at bugs, but for the first time in my life it felt like the bugs were screaming back and they were all saying “we, simple creatures built for singular purpose and of singular mind, care not what you scream at us but, instead, remind you that at the end of the day, while we know nothing, you know in your heart that what you scream falls upon deaf ears and that not even an insect could give a fuck.” And when the gravity of it all hit, it felt like a pallet of bricks.

I guess when I look back on these old posts, it gives me a true appreciation for the positive track that Uninspired Idiocy rides upon. Now, let us steam forward with some lighthearted idiotic fun, shall we?