I don’t plan to die any time soon, so I suppose a “lighter” first post is permissible. Just a little something to let the folks at home know where I’m coming from, and a hope that it won’t be until the second week that people feel it’s okay to skip reading Tuesday’s posts.
I’m Guy. It’s pretty much an ideophone if you say it as a soft exhalation. I’m a moral philosopher and cultural anthropologist - and easily so, since neither of those really mean anything. Basically, I get to worry about everything in so far as how it is interrelated, how systems interact, what the psychological, moral, and cultural influences behind, and implications of, any given human action are, and ultimately to muddle through the confusing mess of lens filters and venn diagrams that I call “life.” Don’t confuse that with the “I have a real job and friends and a significant other and hobbies and dreams and ambitions and such” kind of life. No, I just mean my heart pumps blood and if I keep putting enough sugar and caffeine in my face-hole everyday, my brain will continue to animate and operate my fleshy hull, so that I can do it all over again the next day.
In no particular order: I like pie, but not cherry pie, though I usually do like cherries, I have 145 lbs of grip strength in my right hand, I’ve seen about 25-35 ghosts in my lifetime, but they were all within the same 45 minutes or so, I like snow crab legs more than lobster tail, and I’m hoping that the apocalypse means I’ll get to live in an underground house for a few years eating moss and vermin I scavenge in the over-world until I die defending my homestead from roaming bands of Mad Max fans and football hooligans. Also, I like tigers.
I have a nice, serious post I was going to drop on you today, but I don’t want to leave Bunny holding the rope when someone jumps ship the first week because Guy is out of his freakin’ mind, where by “his freakin’ mind” they’ll mean “touch with reality.”
Instead, I’ll just say it’s been a while since I blogged and that's yet another reason I’m excited for this organized mess. And I’m happy to be aboard. TTFN.
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*grabs rope tightly*
ReplyDeleteIs the rope in your teeth or hand? It really changes the meaning.
ReplyDeleteWhy not both? That's what they always taught us in the Boy Scouts. Had this great rope tying game where they'd line us all up in a muddy pit and have all the boys grab this rope and tie it to ourselves, and then pull as hard as they could while the "Scout Masters" watched on from their tents, decided which one of us got the badge. Hmm... Well, I suppose I should go contact a lawyer.
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