Schmucks like I

SCHMUCK, TWEET, GEM, PLATFORM

The point is to say things that matter. The point is to go public with my private thoughts that matter. What's the best platform for a thinker and writer like I? Blogs are old hat, aren't they? Well, I'm kind of old hat too. Maybe the blog is where an old-hat kind of guy like I belongs. Should I be a tweeter? Would tweeting make any difference to me or anyone else? Are there people out there, waiting with bated breath for my verbal gems? Ah, I don't think so. The point is to step up and speak up. The point is to go public. Everyone else does. Why shouldn't I? My life matters! And, media provides the means and the opportunity for even schmucks like I to have our say.

Thinking about sex.

SEX, GUYS, WRITING, TALKING

I don't like the idea of just writing for myself. I don't like the idea of writing badly and putting it on display. I don't like the idea of showing the whole world what a putz I am, but it's better than doing nothing at all. I'd rather be a putz than a zero. I'm getting old. I don't have a lot of time left. I want to make the best of it. I don't want to spend the rest of my life not telling you who I am. I want to spend the rest of my life being myself. Oh, yuck! Oh, boring! Oh, stupid! Oh, well.

Blogging is already old hat, but it's a step up for me. A step out. A turning of my face toward the world. Coming out. Not hiding out. What do I have to hide? Nothing. And, do you know why? Because no one cares. No one gives a damn about anything I do. I don't want to hide. I want to make the most of things. I want to be myself. I want to make my best effort.

I'm a talker. I like to talk. I like to tell you what I'm thinking about. I like to tell you about what I did today, and what I think about it. One of the wonders of the world is how it can't tell me what to be. There may be things that the world will fight tooth and nail to prevent me from being, but it can't tell me what to be. The world will give me all kinds of reasons why I can't be or do something, but it can't tell me what to be. I don't want to be perfect in my own eyes or in the world's eyes. I'm tired of trying to be perfect. I'm tired of trying to impress people with my qualifications. Qualified for what? Who cares! No one. Me too.

I don't want to impress you with my writing. I do want to write to you. I want to tell you what's on my mind. I want to tell you what I did today. I don't really care whether I impress you or not. I just want to make the effort to tell you. In a world that's falling apart, the time to be shy about talking has passed. I want to talk to you. I don't want to be perfect for you. I want to talk to you. I want to tell you what I did today. I want to tell you about the handsome, sexy guy I saw this morning at Starbucks. I don't know his name yet, but I want to. He's married and has a daughter. He has a low voice.  He's big. He's not a skinny little guy. I've never seen him with anyone. He always comes to Starbucks on his own. I don't want to see him with his wife or daughter. I just want to see him. I just want him. I don't want to be his best friend. I don't necessarily want to be his friend at all. I'd like to masturbate with him, suck his dick, and make out with him. That's all. Not a big deal. I don't want to take a lot of his time, or waste a lot of mine. I don't have a lot of time to waste. I don't have a lot of energy to use. I want to tell you about the hunky guys I like to look at. I don't want to be a great writer. I just want to write. I don't want to be perfect. I just want to talk to you.

I want you to know that I will get up this morning looking forward to the handsome guys I will see throughout the day. Mom and I are going to the Wareham Walmart this morning. We will see handsome young men working there. We will see good-looking guys shopping there. Guys I can think about having sex with.