You like it so far?

Stories are told, retold, and told again. How many stories do we really have anyway? I'd list them all off, but I guess I don't want to. I know we're only supposed to have three basic themes, but I don't know if I really buy into that. I don't think every story is easily bound up in that supposed triumvirate of man vs. whatever.

Still though we are limited by what was come before us. I mean what can I really say that hasn't been already written and written better than I could ever hope to articulate? Do we have personal experiences that add up to interesting stories, all different and wondrous, or have they all happened already, occurring ad nauseum (and I do mean nauseum)? This is all amounting to a big why bother, but I'm bothering right now to write about something that better men than I have considered. Which means what? Are my writings pointless? Am I just adding to the entropy of the universe, wasting my time on useless conjecture? Who cares anyway? You? Please.

As a matter of fact, fuck you. And whatever it was that brought you here. What makes you think you can read this and dismiss it sardonically or nod sagely, or however you respond to it? This isn't your fucking high school English class here, jackass. For one thing, you were probably a lot smarter back then. You'd probably have your little hand in the air, just begging for someone to come by with a machete and chop your curiosity off at the elbow. That was before you realized being anti-authority could give you some easy credibility. After your conversion to the faith of angst, and all the black-wearing, university-going trimmings, you ended up a vegetarian just so you could get a little special attention at the dinner table. Fuck you, you spoiled asshole. I bet you have a pretty serious inferiority/superiority thing going on. So now you're here, being told off by someone who thinks he's better than you. How does it feel? You enjoy the abuse, don't you? Go away now.