I am a Los Angeles-based twentysomething. I have a profession, and I have a secret life in music, and this blog isn't about any of that. I like Blogger because I can't read what you're thinking.
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- A Blog Supreme
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Monday, November 23
I'm retiring the word "fuck" from my blog.
You've had a good run, fuck. I mean, seriously, there really is no other way of articulating something way more awesomer (dare I say gooder) than with you, man. But, as I grow old and weary and frail and apathetic, I also become old and weary and frail and apathetic of my old ways. Will it slip up? Oh, I'm sure of it. Yeah, I'm damn near fucking perfect, but, still, I'm human.
Not using "fuck" will force me to be a gooderer writer, hopefully to become the bestest I can be at it.
Will it work? Iono. I'm sure it'll help some. Especially socially. Often times, I'll meet someone or a group or whatever of new people and I'll have to subtly pepper in a "fuck" to offset my supposedly dickish demeanor. It's a vocal handshake with a shoulder grab, really implying, "It's okay. I'll let you in. Say whatever you want. Really."
Well, as with every retirement, there must be a swan song. But the word "fuck" is bigger than Johnny fucking Carson. This leave will merit many swan songs, but there's only time for a few. And the curtains peel...
FUCKIN' AY, MAN:
A TRIBUTE TO A FINE WORD
(THE LIVE TRIBUTE EXTRAVAGANZA)
CHORUS LINE, GUYZZ!!!!
Peace out, fuck.