The story of me

I have arrived at a smashing conclusion. Here I am, force-reading the 573-page journal of a Austrio-American Surrealist architect, taking mini-breaks from his intensive jaunts among the New York socialites in order to hunch in front of my computer and read snippets of the company bitch's blog (see previous entry). And now, I realize that my blog basically sucks.

So, then, what is the purpose of my blog? Because so far, it seems to have been a few cute or inane facts, pretty pics, and wayyyy too many cryptic/abstract/sentimento-babble blurbs. Now I wonder, who gives a crap about that? Who even, aside from me, understands it? Obviously not my great audience (all what, 3 of you? 4 maybe?), which usually ends up asking me: "Are you ok? I read your blog...what was that about?"

So, I'm thinking about this in a new manner. I think I will embrace my audience (group hug!) and look at the weaving of a story, the story of me, as shared with you (my bored friends). I'm also thinking that, if I am good enough at this, I may succeed in being the blog version of 90210 in Turks& Caïcos...you know, conquer the world one tiny island at a time! (visions of blue men gossiping about my latest PMS outbursts dance through my head: "Mais sé qwa ça? El-lai foooole ce-tuh mah-dah-muh! Dis-mwa qwa d'ote ella fait?"

There you are, you can thank Kiesler and a random bitch for blogs to come... Just give me a bit of time to get used to this new power!