My friend Sean-Doyle already said it all:
"There are no more Street Preachers - only bloggers."
What? Blogging is so-dead. So dead it doesn't even stink anymore. Maybe I'll become a street preacher. Maybe I won't. Maybe I'm just done. Dues paid. Arc complete. Maybe. How would I know? But blogging and watching Twitter posts and becoming somebody's 751st Facebook "friend" is stupid, man. When did we get so stupid? We need to be like Obama and stop being so stupid. I told my friend in the Crooklyn that I was gonna quit and he stepped out of a meeting to call and say, "what?!" But I said I think I caught an epiphany and will really do it this time. Take up reading and enjoying other people's music and art. It's summer. I have a bicycle and a banjo.
Don't think I can quit this game; this lame ass game? I can quit anytime I want to (the junky says). But I know me. I'm stubborn as fuck and can do anything I want. I've done it before. I can do it again. It's me, silly. I could make this my very last post if I wanted to. Poof! Later. What happened to Ty?
But....
Cold turkey is never the right way to quit a thing. Only my very own father (Happy Father's Day, pops, wherever you are) could pull that cold blooded shit. He quit like a 20+ year smoking habit mid-cigarette. Said, "I'm done." Looks at everyone else as weak for not being able to quit a cigarette. But the rest of us have to taper and tier down like the mortals we are. I still got stuff to type into Abnormally Keen Despair. I still have a record almost finished. I'm posting it on the internet. I know. Lame, huh?
So let me finish my album. Let me take some pictures. Let me rant and rave somemore if I fuckin' want to. But all the rest? Twitter? Facebook? Geocities? Netscape? Done. Mid-cigarette. All the told-you-soers can eat a can of ass. You know where to find me (write me a letter, I'll write you back). I'll be doing my thing. You kids can have it. It's lame and you use it wrong anyway and I definitely don't want to be mopetarded like y'all.
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