I do not remember this story. I do not remember the big story.
Oh yes… No. It teases me with flashes and a mood spike but I can not recall.
Ok. The book news.
The book convention news.
If I dream that my blogs often, if not frequently contain one or more gems. Saying one seems like a low confidence number but it being the closet whole number to zero, it is exactly the right choice. It is not unreasonable to say that most of my blogs or videos that xuceedded in making it past 1 minutes with working audio in a quality of value… Will have at least one neat item of note. One laugh or one smile or at the least, one grouping of words that will be a firstie. One takeaway.
I’d love to boast at least two, or three but my second voice reminds me some will have none, and that number is bound to be higher than expected. One is all I need. One is the backbone of my whole philosophy.
Everyone needs at least one fan. Someone who gets what you’re trying to say, or do. One fan who, while they might not share your taste 100% of the time, you click in a way that allows for a trust that’s hard to find. They get your references and compliment or top them.
Spontaneous pun challenges break out and when you serve a layup, they can dunk with the right follow up response.
A fan wants to see more, and you believe them.
When you don’t have your own backbone of confidence, you can’t believe the praise of your friends and family, because no matter how much rheyvdeny, none of them are the kind of friend to tell you exactly how bad you really are.
A fan tells you you stink. A friend tells you they didn’t notice but they just had a sauerkraut covered Italian sausage for lunch.
I don’t want to be famous. I just want a few good fans.
I can’t bring myself to ask.
I never coukd. That’s what friends are for. I need to travel in a pair or a pack.
Fir me, I built my walls so well I didn’t realize they were actually missing the doors. I paint the inside but leave the curtains closed. My perfect life is for me.
The first share breaks the spell.
Suddenly an opinion can crush my joy.
In truth, I usually agree with critidudm, constructive or otherwise. I score bonus learning points and feel good. It’s the being wrong part that brings me down.
Failing.
Failing you.
Failing me is easy. I don’t see my friend. I don’t feel responsible for my friend. I’ve worked out all sorts of other reasons ding excuses to blame.
I’m not a loser. I just have real a.dd. not the fake perscriotion you have.
But I am. It’s not all my a.dd. I’m the anti gae guy. I’m the bae guy. Bad at everything. I think at some point I’d be socially allowed to face the evedence and say, ok. How about we don’t need Jeff to try and learn calculus and trienomics. Sign, cosign, etc. Nope. I learned x equals and compund interest and then quit.
Sore hand. 8am. Caroel at 54. I remember my caroel introduction. Case zero in my universe.
Break. First? I wonder if I’m still asleep on that Italian guys temp condo.
That’s the big story. I hope I get to tell that loop.
My latest submissive slave experience in SL. Almost exactly my dream rp. It’s just I have to admit to my first alternate personality that isn’t one of the Jeff’s.
I’m a Lumberjack and I’m ok.
Pic of lumberhack Jeff.
End of preamble to the big story.
Telling Mom about the woman asleep in the bed upstairs.
My SL wife left me because she thought it was a crack white I was fucking on the side it isn’t.
Open loop end.
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