Just as any ponytailed blonde with a camera thinks that they’re a photographer, too often these days, any hack with a blog boasts to be an actual writer. In creating this blog, I am aware of the risk of being lumped into this category, and am incredibly annoyed at even the idea of being mistaken for a ‘blogger’ as I, myself, find 99% of them laughable at best. That said, before the ‘blogging’ begins, let me make a few things clear.

• My blog will not involve talk of pets or breakfast, nor longwinded ramblings concerning what type of pet I prefer for breakfast and whether said pet is high in fat, forcing me to fit in an extra mile or two on my daily run through the ghetto.

• My blog will not include any mention of the state of my roof, garage, lawn, or any other area/part of my domicile. I may, however, make the occasional reference to damages made in and/or around the home that have some social or philosophical relevance. For example, I might write about the hole put in my living room wall by a grown man throwing a temper tantrum over his own inability to function as a trustworthy and caring friend, and how that hole has yet to be fixed, much like the very friendships he shattered.

• My blog will be fairly low in estrogen. Although I bleed once a month like every other bitch on this planet, doing so does not make me a pussy. That said, do not expect to read about how I feel about cupcakes, male gynecologists, pedicures, book clubs, baby strollers, weddings, flowers, pink crap, etc. I won’t completely exclude fashion, beauty, sex, or other things that may relate to womanhood, but the inane and cliché have no place in my brain, nor in my writing.

• My Blog will not be used as a virtual waste bin or limbo for lyrics and/or poetry less inspiring or genius than those used for projects like Hills of Elysium. Although I may slip in the occasional stanza, I will never post half-finished or just plain shitty work. If it’s posted and you find it to be shitty, you don’t know enough about music, writing, or the world and should just end it all now and go fall onto a large knife.

Welcome to my blog, and excuse me while I go vomit over the frightening realization that people actually write about things like their offspring’s circumcision and their favorite brand of fleece pullovers. Of course, if you like reading that sort of thing, you can just go fuck yourself and please, do not read any future entries of mine. It will only make falling on that knife sound more and more like a good idea.