Gut Rumbles

May 19, 2007

Eleven days

Originally published December 17, 2005

In eleven days, I will celebrate TWO birthdays. (Well... one will be celebrated. I don't know about the other one.) I started Gut Rumbles on December 28, 2001. This site will be FOUR YEARS OLD in eleven more days.

It's easy for me to remember when I made my first post here. December 28 is my son's birthday. I started this blog in a fit of very hot anger and very deep depression after I tossed Quinton's birthday cake in the trash can that fateful Friday evening four years ago. Here is part of what I wrote:

Today is my son's eighth birthday. This also was my weekend for visitation, according to that very expensive divorce decree I have in my possession. But my son is not here. I have presents and all sorts of nifty things for him, but he won't see any of it today because my disgusting slut of an ex-wife is in the north Georgia mountains shacking up in a cabin with her unemployed, dope-smoking, piece of shit lover, along with my son, who she kidnapped as far as I am concerned. I became aware of this fact when I arrived home from work at 5:30 this evening and checked the messages on my answering machine.

When I heard that message, I threw Quinton's birthday cake in the trash can and I cried for a while. (I cried a LOT back in those days.) Then, I fixed myself a strong drink and started this blog.

I'm 53 years old and no one else I've encountered in life has come even close to being as relentlessly cruel to me as the Bloodless Cunt has been. She DID send me a letter when I was in Willingway. She asked me to sign over my half of our time-share to her, for free of course (I am NOT making this up!), and she even included the form required to get that done. All I had to do was fill it out, sign it and have it notarized. She was kind enough to mention that Willingway probably had a notary public to do the job.

I threw the letter and the form away.

Then, when I got home from Willingway, I discovered the letter she penned (two days before my release, so that it would be waiting in my mailbox) to inform me that she was taking another hostage getting remarried in March. "Quinton really likes him," she said.

Now... I wouldn't accuse her of trying to do something to upset me, wreck my serenity and send me reaching for a bottle on the day I got out of rehab... but I did think that the timing was unusual. Well, it would be unusual for anyone else; that's just par for the course for her.

So, I don't know for certain that I'll see my son on his birthday. The Bloodless Cunt may haul ass with Quinton and shack up with her latest victim husband-to-be in our time-share. That kind of thing wouldn't surprise me. I'll celebrate four years of Gut Rumbles no matter what happens.

I was thinking about the evolution (or mutation) in blogdom that I've seen since I started when I read this post. I agree with a lot of what he says, especially the part about him being embarrassed to visit his own site.

I don't want to piss on anyone's parade, but I've been having the sinking feeling, for some time now, that the vaunted Blogosphere is a sickly puppy, the runt of the litter with rickets, and scabies.

Hear me out: when the World was relatively small, there was much interaction. Give, take, everyone knew everyone. Maybe didn't like everyone, but knew them. Now there are Pajama parties with huge fucking budgets, one is In or Out, it is a fucking abortion of a thing.

Yes, blogdom IS different now, compared to what it once was. The pimps moved in and slutted up the place. I've always contended that if you wrote a good blog, people would find it. (If you build it, they will come.) Now, I'm not so sure. Success is based more who you know and who you blow anymore.

I really hate to see that happen. I always hate to see innocence lost. But what the hell? Life is constant change, so you might as well accept it.

I'm just going to keep doing what I've been doing. I'm not in this for the money and I'm probably as tall a dog as I'm ever going to be anyway, so fuck it. I blog because I like doing it. Let the "elite" beat their meat and call it New Media. I'm gonna remember the Good Old Days.

Besides--- I think I've learned to write sober and I'm still enjoying that new experience.

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