I talked to my pal Ghnugh from Mars the other day. Sheeeet. He says the food in Mongolia is terrible, and really, I’m not too shocked by this meaningful revaluation. Perhaps I am dead on the inside. In other news, I broke into the innermost vault at the Royal Bank of Canada to find all they store in there is bananas with seeds. Go figure right?

Etcetera. Etcetera. That was before I realised that I’m missing the point. These bloggers take themselves just as seriously as I do. I spend almost as much time as they do scraping together the little details of my life into something legitimately readable. For me its more an attempt to take stock of how sardonic my take on the world is before I start turning into a bleary angry mole person. That and if I ever want to write my best seller which I will totally post on the internet because that is the only publicity… man… I need all the practise I can get. (Whoops, my bad, taking a shot at the ‘Author Bloggers’ again). Here I am working on stopping my hate fest and I just can’t do it.

The problem is I am a totally schizophrenic blogger. Some days I want to be the ‘oh woe is me, this is my internet outlet, hear me whine’ writer then the next I’ve decided to be the ‘professional purpose driven, look I even have a mission statement’ reporter. Between those two comes the ‘hate filled everyone if stupid but me’ blog which usually has a perky review the next day. So, basically Empty Cage is a big huge steaming poo most of the time because I have no focus whatsoever.

Of course then I sit around thinking “Well, Jesus, I should just pick one and build me a niche” (preferably by violently clawing competition out of the niche and cuddling my blogger’s bottom in there). But then, I would need several other blogs to accommodate all of my mood swings, and really, I don’t update this (or my defunct livejournal) enough to legitimately need another blog. We happily return to square one.

I think my writer’s “voice” is best suited to a critical blog. My reviews and rants tend to be more interesting then when I try to make an interesting case for reading about my day, but even that is perilous because then you need to both have something to write about, as well as be in a constant state of either rage, disdain or both. And while this is usually the case for me I wouldn’t want to enragggggge any customers because I one day decided to mention how much I lovey-wuv my life. And by customers I mean readers, and by lovey-wuv I mean don’t hate.

At least I haven’t sold out and started paid-blogging yet. I can keep my goatee and indie scarf a few more months yet. Maaaaaaan. (More being mean to real bloggers — wheeee!) But maybe I should I could do with writing a comedic piece on some randomly selected keywords. Shit, maybe I need to stop.

What does all this circle talking mean? Mostly that we should be watching for me trying on different blogging hats for the next few weeks/months/years until people actually read my blog. Righto.

I’m not sure if I have the internet up to date, but I’ve read 5 of my summer books, and mostly done Clockwork Orange for number six. From there I have an ultra spiffy Advanced Reading Copy (ARC) of Libba Bray’s new book Going Bovine which sounds strangely like I wrote it and forgot. Yes, its that absurd. Speaking of which I have been trying to do some writing, but as usual there are too many stories in my head and I don’t know which to get started on. I’d like to think one will pull away from the pack as being a fly away best seller so I don’t need to find a job, but that’s about as likely as me doing any form of exercize beyond blinking and walking. I have mastered the art of lazy.

Aaaaand apparently UOttawa wants $30 from me for reasons henceforth unknown. Probably all those times I locked myself out of residence which I was pretty sure I had paid for. Not too keen on that. But, but, but. L.A. finally got back to me and I may actually have a place to live next year. Hurrah and suchlike, beause I was starting to worry I was going to have to like on the street like most of my fellow philosophers (oh snap?) Fingers crossed this doesn’t fall through (again!) and I actually am not street bound, or Stanton bound. I was already senior citizen enough in res without adding another year on top of that. All those little seventeen-to-eighteen-year-olds scoffing at old twenty-almost-twenty-one year old, not nice.

I think I finally figured out what I’ve been doing wrong with Enth3 that it doesn’t e-mail me anymore, I think I have an extra “\” in there somewhere throwing off the space-time continuum. But let’s not talk about my Fanlistings, they all look like arse and it depresses me. Especially the Magical Mystery Tour — who let me put it on the internet looking like that? It looks so drab and more of ‘A Detailed Tour of Saskatchewan’ then anything Magical or Mysterious. (Sorry Saskatchewan, it’s just so easy…)

Anyways, I want to get to the bookstore so I can fix up some shelving and make a few bucks given no where in Southern Ontario will give me a job. So, I’m signing off.