return to index

The Blog 1.2

This is where I'd put the blog subtitle, if only I wasn't too busy fighting aliens to come up with it.


9:42AM. This is my first post under the "factoid" tag. Oxford Language defines a factoid as "a brief or trivial item of news or information." Well, shucks. If there's one thing I'm GREAT at, it's sharing a trivial item. Well, maybe not in brief.

But don't worry. I'll keep this one short. Or, try to.

This is sort of a given if you already know me, but since I don't know YOU, it's safe to say the feeling's mutual. So let's get to know each other. I take it you've already read my about me page (so, obviously, you've already been charmed by my affable and charismatic personality), but surprising as it may come, that page fails to share one of the very most "important" things about myself (why'd you put "important" in air quotes?).

That fact left ignored would have to be my total AVERSION to candy, gum, or anything artificial-fruit adjacent (apart from real fruit). I CAN NOT stand any of the following: cotton candy (just typing it is tempting me to hurl), jolly ranchers (not so JOLLY if I say so myself!), strawberry milk (I'm gagging), blue raspberry ANYTHING (NO exceptions), or anything even CLOSE to those. If you eat a Twizzler next to me, you're basically asking me to dissolve into pure irate and flaming hot rage coupled with the greenest, queasiest of disgust. One lollipop and I'm going to have a hard time coming within five miles of your mouth again. I just can't take it.

It hasn't always been like this. I remember the exact day everything changed. I was watching Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards on the couch, I think in 2016 or 15, and I was eating Skittles (I can still recall the exact feeling that overtook me). All was fine, until I suddenly couldn't eat a single Skittle more. Not one. I was so revolted by the candy in a matter of seconds that I just KNEW I could NEVER face it again with the same cordiality I had in my naive, youthful past.

At first, I was able to tolerate being in the proximity of gummies and the like. If something was orange flavored, I'd still eat it. But I just can't wrap my mind around that being okay now.

It's not just the taste of it. It's mostly the smell (well, probably because I NEVER taste it, if given my druthers). It's the way it looks, too. And the way it sounds. And I can't even imagine *shiver* the way it FEELS. Both chewing (I have to stop writing this) and just... touching it, gracing it for a moment with the tip of my finger. Ew. I'm imagining wet Fun Dip, a Swedish Fish, a Nerds Rope. All of those things send me into intense fury and nauseation that NOTHING else could EVER come close to emulating from me.

I can't tell you what it is. I don't know why it's like this. All I can say is that I have gotten BETTER. For a while, if someone was eating a Welch's Fruit thing next to me (I don't CARE if it's "real fruit". If I can't SEE the real fruit in its NATURAL STATE -- no syrups or excess juices -- IT DOESN'T MATTER) it would take all (ALL) of my willpower not to start HITTING myself or someone else. But now, if someone's eating a popsicle to my left, I'll just go silent and maybe pull my shirt over my nose. Progress.

I guess that turned out to be more than a factoid. I might also sort this under the "good-for-nothing rambling" tag.


7:54PM. It's nice to know that some good things never change.

Well, except for that time he was dead for about 15 years.

PS: And, well, NOW... since at this point he's just Jaime's humorless tutor. Man, I miss how it used to be. Uh... not the dead years, though.

8:21AM. If you know me at all, you know that there's something impossibly spectacular about there not yet being a post under the "superhero" tag. Well, I really oughta do something about that. Just pretend that below this, there's a picture of me attached in which I'm riding horseback on a power-ring generated green stallion, over a chronal rainbow crossbridge through time, holding hands with a laughing Booster Gold.

8:11AM. A couple days ago, I was bummed out on a Saturday, nursing a heavy feeling of dread and melancholy out in the sun. I mourned the summer. Who wouldn't?

The same thoughts kept recycling. Gee, came a pitying sough in my mind, What I wouldn't give to be back in June, laying out by the pool with a comic book in my hands and a full belly of soup.

Then, I realized what I'd spent the day doing. Eating soup and laying out by the pool with a comic book in my hands. Only difference? It's not June. Well, EVEN BETTER-- it's the present day! You know what they say: If it ain't broke... don't fix it!

PS: Something about me... My favorite season is always "whatever season we're in right now." So at tender times of the year like this, the bridge between summer and fall, all I do is think, "Wow, what an amazing summer I had. And wow, I'm so excited for fall!"

PPS: Hey, maybe I really AM back! That's 3 posts in three days. This is even more impressive than that time I solved world hunger. Mostly because I forgot to write the solution down, hence there still being world hunger.


3:48PM. Wanna know something funny? Sometimes I myself go to Primate dot soy and refresh the page to see if there's any new blog entries. And there aren't. Damn whoever moderates that site!

PS: Wanna know something else funny? By making this post, I've made it so there IS a new blog entry. Aren't I genius?


While in ELA, I was supposed to be beginning a narrative for a summative grade. In such moments, you might think that an genius verbal prodigy impassioned "writer" like me could EASILY summon an avalanche of words to immediately smother the bare ground of a blank Google Doc... But I only found myself without direction, and thus was forced to do one of my least favorite things: stream of consciousness until I get a pebble of an idea. One good thing did come out of this, though. I accidentally wrote a Primate blog entry. See below:

Stream of consciousness. Time stamp: it’s 11:48 AM on another damned Monday. Well, that’s being cynical (a bit Garfieldian, no?). It’s only “damned” because I’m drawing a blank, and now I have to do this garbage “stream of consciousness” to get me back on my feet. Yeah, stream of consciousness. (how many times are you going to say that?). Cry me a river. (oh, I see what you did there) (wait, I sorta don’t. Why are you telling yourself to cry a river? I mean, who talks to themselves like that? Next thing I know, you’re gonna be annotating your own writing in little parentheticals as you go. That’d be just… um. Oh. Carry on.). This is sort of outrageous because I know I’ve had about a billion ideas in the past… err… let me check my watch… 24 hours (couldn’t have just said “day”? You don’t even wear a watch. Cheez. You must REALLY be out of ideas). And now, staring at that same daunting blankness I’ve grown all too familiar with, it’s gone. Just me and that blinking cursor again. It’s waving at me. “Hi, there.” Then it’s gone. “Hi.” Gone again. “Hey there— you know, I’d love to stick around, but you’ve really gotta write something for me to stay.” Oh, go funk yourself. I know that already. Ooh. You know what this is good for? Primate. Yeah, right. I’m sure they love long, tangential, meaningless prattle like this.


Um, actually, I am LITERALLY sure they love that. Because if they don’t, what the hell else are they getting from my site? (Stop being a smartass.)

Well, since I’ve decided this is a Primate entry, now, I should address the people (er… don’t get ahead of yourself. You might have one consistent reader on Primate, and I think it’s yourself. And your reader’s already getting a bit tired of this…). Primate: I’m sorry, baby. I miss you, too. You see, I’ve been hanging ‘round with that crowd again— the folks you don’t like. Pencil, Paper, and The Occasional Pen. You know how I get when I’m doing all my business with them— I just don’t have the time to tell you everything the gang and I do together. Sorry, hon. But I’ll be back soon. Oh, honey, don’t give me that look. I know you’re tired of hearing that from me, but I promise. Ehm… I promise, but I don’t swear on anybody’s grave. Sorry, babe. (Well, now I’m uncomfortable. Why can’t you just talk to your blog like a normal person?)

PS: See what's happened to the youth? They don't even bother making punctual endings to their blog entries anymore.


1:45PM. Oops. Did I say I was back? I meant to say "sort of, kind of, not really" after the fact.

I'm working on things for you, Primate. I am, I promise I am. Well, now and then, I am.

I want to restore some of the former glory this site could boast, but it's annoying putting it all together.


Did you think there was more to the post? GIT! This is MY personal site, damn it! I'll say as much as I want to!

And just for that look you're giving me, why, I oughta...


11:16 AM. Heaven, Primate. Would you believe me if I said I was in heaven?

I mean, how much do you really trust me? Would you believe me if I said I was on Mars getting a chip put in my rear and a tracker in my brain?

In a literal sense, that's as true as saying I'm in heaven right now. But let me tell you: if life these days needed be compared to either of those two experiences, I'd have to say the picture of utopia above the clouds is closer to what I'm having. Now, if you really like Martians and also happen to have a fetish for metal nanites rushing into your rectum, you might try to tell me that THAT is utopia above the clouds. But I'd say, "Above Earth clouds, sure. But you're still below Martian airspace, buddy."

Anyhoo, what I'm working to get at is that things are going pretty well for me right now. But, you know. When aren't they?

This new organizational system on Primate is sort of annoying and is what's been keeping me from updating this page. I mean, seriously. Who thought that was a good idea? Do you remember what Primate used to look like back in 2022? I mean, that was some nice web design. All those fun little buttons and those colorful spreads and whatnot. And not to mention it was way more diverse than it is now; there were reviews, recipes, and even some short stories on there (albeit, not good ones, but, hey). It was nothing like it is now. You could hardly find one of crappy blog entries that make the whole damned thing up these days. Like, who's even running this thing? Running it into the ground, more like.

I'm just kidding. You know, that thing I never do. Haven't you heard it's hip to be square?

What I really came here to say is hi, and also to brag, since I'm a happy, fulfilled person and you're wasting your time reading some idiot's lackluster internet blog.

PS: Gee, with energy like that, it's no wonder you missed me while I was gone. Another hard hitter out the park.

PPS: I don't care if you're tired of the Dan Dreiberg "anyhoo" gag. He likes owls. Owls say "hoo". This will never change.

9/6/23 >


12:05 PM. I have but only one thing to say to you, Primate.