May have to change the title of this thing, already confusing because I can't get rid of previous title and they must have come up with Chelsea Joe. Jesus, do these people get paid?

Going to start referring to this insane period of the corona virus as  "the semi-end of the world," which should cover all bases. I  think I stand a pretty good chance of becoming a victim, not from the virus but the social distancing thing- not that I have anyone to distance nmyself from . It's just when you reach this age, especially if you're alone, you have half a dozen or so routines that keep the show going and mine have been pretty obliterated- things like swimming, guitar lessons. I'ver mostly filled in these spaces with getting stoned but it occurred to me that if for some insane reason I wanted to continue this fucker, I'd have to go so far back in time to make anything I've sad about now meaningful  that it would become a fucking autobiography. Living through my life was punishment enough that I somehow survived. But writing about my mother throwing my Teddy bear in the garbage to explain my psychotic behavior? No way. Got some new green stuff, want to try it again before going to bed. Possible I will be back tonight but don't bet on it.

The End

I don't think I'm going to be able to seriously get into this. In a weird way, I feel like expend more intellectual energy writing a tweet than an entry here. OK, wanna know what the real reason is? I think I've spent such a large portion of my life looking back, it's like there's nothing left that I haven't already dissected and it's too boring to go through again. I should probably re-reaed volume one before making a final decision.

The End

Another day passed in New Freedomville. Don't think I ever fully understood the meaning of the word"surreal" before, but now I would describe it as being in many of the places you usually were but having no idea why or what to do when you got there. Obviously no one has ever seen this blog and no one ever will unless I do that blog promotion shit. Actually the only reason I blog is to not have to think about shit like that. But I have to decide, am I going to "art for art's sake" it and not worry if anybody ever sees it or not. Or am I going to pay blogger to teach me how to be noticed.
Well, I hope I'm still warming up because I don't really thin I'ver sway a thing that would interest me, I'm delighted that no one's seen this embarrassment.  How low can he go? How high can he fly. Don't let go of that hand for a moment bro, or I shall fly away.

THE END

Hold to me fast and I will try to befriend you in these dar days.I think humans will muddle through the virus but then everything that sucked before is going to be 100 times suckier. I can't say I've had a real life for a number of years, so having what I regarded as my personal hell become the law is- I guess-  a sort of mixed pleasure.

To bed again. Must letn to control myself with grass and I plan to as soon as reality improves.

So while understanding I may have to learn how to shake my ass on the internet if the world survives, I must ask this basic question: Does writing a blog mean you haver to do it every day.? Like I think  missed yesterday so do I have to start from the top again and can I just use the same material again, which makes absolutely no sense but what does these days. We are quarantining. Alas, for me who is so ridiculously lonely the changes in my life have been minimal. Maybe more people will becomes sensitive to guys like me who just go about our business, rarely cutting wrists and suffer from the worst loneliness that hell can create.

I am being depressing. Am I being depressing? I am trying to be sensitive to the large audience this blog is going to have when I learn how to do all the shit you have to do to make it feasible for someone to find out, not that, in my case, it's worth the trouble as I have absolutely nothing to say.That is a lie. I have tons to say but I am tired. I thought I wold try to put some orginational prince;le to work here but I can seer now that that's not going to ha[[en. It's going to be chaos, just like the rest of my life.

I have so much to tell you.

THE END

Was that title prescient or what? This was a couple of days before the corona virus and I thought I would just be writing about my end, not about so much more, something so vast that I am not remotely equipped to think about it, let alone write about it.

AUDIENCE FEEDBACK;  Am I being ingratiating enough for you to want to come back. I'll do a reasonable number roof the things they say get you out of the muck. But once this is write, I feel it's more your responsibility to find it than mine to deliver it.

Everything in the world has changed so radically so unbelievably quickly and it is such a mess, I don't believe there is any point thinking about it-- even if it is the end of civilization. You didn't seriously think things could go on as they were, did you? I don't think I can tackle this and ther blog may become historical if I talk about some things I did last week. I'm realizing that while I can bang off a few good lines here and there, this is not a man who will ever write a great novel whether he is alive or not. The energy level of the blog, its infinitely few demands and unless you really require feedback, no one you know will ever see it unless you tell them about it. Even I have a hard time finding it sometimes because of the weird title shit. Hope my son can fix it before he fleas, trying to get a foot further away from the holocaust- Minnesota.

The End

Did not mean this to happen. No idea how I got here or why. I have nothing more to say for today.