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To the 16 who watched me yesterday, oops, I deleted you
10 years ago
To the last 16 people who watched me yesterday, I accidentally deleted you so I don’t know who all of you are. I try to personally thank every watcher individually but for some reason my delete finger was working overtime this morning. So I am writing this journal to mass- thank all of you for watching. It has been so hectic here lately and I can’t believe all the love and support you have shown me, especially over the past few months. Again, I’m soo sorry- thank you, all.
Ok.
Did anyone buy that steaming pile of crap?
Even a little? No?
If you did it’s alright. You are probably new here.
So raise your hand if you bought into it.
Go ahead! No one will know… HIGHER!
*Taking count*
There. That wasn’t so bad now, was it? Ok, hands down, people. In case you didn’t know, that excerpt was more or less from one of W**** Y***’s (now deleted) journals. I know some of you recognize it. I was watching as the rest of you attempted to soothe the worried brow on his cro-magnon forehead, reassuring him that none of his watchers would be offended by his overt carelessness. While you were busy assuaging him, I remember taking a little bit of brandy to dull the pain, then working up the courage to leave this witty little comment on his journal: “I believe it was Bonaparte who said: ‘The cemeteries are full of W**** Y***’s expendable watchers.’” I’m fairly certain I used the quotation marks correctly. If I didn’t… I don’t want to know about it. Anyway, that mutherfucker blocked me. Me! (W**** Y***, not Bonaparte.) And I never said one bad word about him. That mutherfucker.
The point? Is there a point? Oh, yeah. The point is that unlike that mutherfucker, I don’t have 16 watchers to expend. I have been waiting four long mutherfucking years to make a journal just like W**** Y***’s- announcing that I have so many new watchers that I can’t keep on top of it anymore and now I am resorting to mass postings because my time is ooh soo precious and I can’t be bothered anyway- and I’m still waiting to do that. Yes, that. But don’t worry; it’s never going to happen. I’m never going to have 16 expendable watchers. Do you know how many new watchers I got from my last submission? Zero. Zilch. Not one! I- I don’t understand. That homage to Karnage had everything, darlings: Torture, fire, branding, spooky skeletons, homo-eroticism and cute furries… even peen! It was creepy and sexy… a perfect storm of naughtiness. You could almost hear the Ten Commandments breaking, one at a time. The line-work was clean and everything. I gave you all I had to give and it still wasn’t enough for you. I’m spent. The late Joan Rivers once said: “The pretty girls don’t have to do anything to get a man. If you are not pretty, you have to really listen and work at getting a man’s attention.” She should know. I’ve done enough networking and cock-sucking here. All to no avail. I thought my latest submission would finally get me off the D-list. But I’m still here, stuck in purgatory after giving you the best years of my life…
Um...what was the question? Was there a Question? I don’t know. Here’s a question: What the fuck, people? If my art, my craft is not good enough, then that’s too damn bad.
But I don’t want to leave you drowning in negativity, the way you left me. So I will dwell on a more positive note. I have been looking at the pages of those who have faved my art. (Believe me, it doesn’t take long.) I am fascinated that my art is often wedged between the submissions of A-listers such as bin or nightmare and dream. Occasionally I’ve been faved right after zaush himself! Lovely. Occasionally I have also been faved right along with that God-awful submission by jarpanda that so many of you seem to like. Well, there’s no accounting for taste here. I may be a D-lister, but at least I’m finally rubbing elbows with the right neighbors. Hey zaush! Can I borrow a cup of sugar? I live right on the other side of the tracks.
Love, D-
Ok.
Did anyone buy that steaming pile of crap?
Even a little? No?
If you did it’s alright. You are probably new here.
So raise your hand if you bought into it.
Go ahead! No one will know… HIGHER!
*Taking count*
There. That wasn’t so bad now, was it? Ok, hands down, people. In case you didn’t know, that excerpt was more or less from one of W**** Y***’s (now deleted) journals. I know some of you recognize it. I was watching as the rest of you attempted to soothe the worried brow on his cro-magnon forehead, reassuring him that none of his watchers would be offended by his overt carelessness. While you were busy assuaging him, I remember taking a little bit of brandy to dull the pain, then working up the courage to leave this witty little comment on his journal: “I believe it was Bonaparte who said: ‘The cemeteries are full of W**** Y***’s expendable watchers.’” I’m fairly certain I used the quotation marks correctly. If I didn’t… I don’t want to know about it. Anyway, that mutherfucker blocked me. Me! (W**** Y***, not Bonaparte.) And I never said one bad word about him. That mutherfucker.
The point? Is there a point? Oh, yeah. The point is that unlike that mutherfucker, I don’t have 16 watchers to expend. I have been waiting four long mutherfucking years to make a journal just like W**** Y***’s- announcing that I have so many new watchers that I can’t keep on top of it anymore and now I am resorting to mass postings because my time is ooh soo precious and I can’t be bothered anyway- and I’m still waiting to do that. Yes, that. But don’t worry; it’s never going to happen. I’m never going to have 16 expendable watchers. Do you know how many new watchers I got from my last submission? Zero. Zilch. Not one! I- I don’t understand. That homage to Karnage had everything, darlings: Torture, fire, branding, spooky skeletons, homo-eroticism and cute furries… even peen! It was creepy and sexy… a perfect storm of naughtiness. You could almost hear the Ten Commandments breaking, one at a time. The line-work was clean and everything. I gave you all I had to give and it still wasn’t enough for you. I’m spent. The late Joan Rivers once said: “The pretty girls don’t have to do anything to get a man. If you are not pretty, you have to really listen and work at getting a man’s attention.” She should know. I’ve done enough networking and cock-sucking here. All to no avail. I thought my latest submission would finally get me off the D-list. But I’m still here, stuck in purgatory after giving you the best years of my life…
Um...what was the question? Was there a Question? I don’t know. Here’s a question: What the fuck, people? If my art, my craft is not good enough, then that’s too damn bad.
But I don’t want to leave you drowning in negativity, the way you left me. So I will dwell on a more positive note. I have been looking at the pages of those who have faved my art. (Believe me, it doesn’t take long.) I am fascinated that my art is often wedged between the submissions of A-listers such as bin or nightmare and dream. Occasionally I’ve been faved right after zaush himself! Lovely. Occasionally I have also been faved right along with that God-awful submission by jarpanda that so many of you seem to like. Well, there’s no accounting for taste here. I may be a D-lister, but at least I’m finally rubbing elbows with the right neighbors. Hey zaush! Can I borrow a cup of sugar? I live right on the other side of the tracks.
Love, D-
