I guess I’m “all caught up” on the Internet. Nothing to be done or seen until “new” things get started, uploaded, written, recorded, etc. The YouTube subscription box: nothing recent to see. The 1Feed RSS reader: no new blog posts to read. And dropping into the []( and []( no patrons putting new things on their blogs/notebooks at this exact time. I’ve seen all there is to see at this hour (10:00 PM) on this date (3.26.2022), and I must put fingers to keyboard and actually put *out* something that will help me pass the time. And here we have it (this post *here*).nnMaybe other stuff will occur in the next few minutes/hours, but I am not waiting around for other people to do other things. Hell, I might not even take a particular interest in that “thing”, and it could end up being a disappointment, like opening a non-desirable Christmas present.nnWord vomits and writing my thoughts are kind of what I end up doing a lot of the time anyway, so I will just transition to that activity as some time passes.nn**on writing romanticism**nnI probably do this on occasion: writing *about* writing in some romanticized way. Putting text to editor about how “great” or “fun” or “neat” I find it to be (and I do). And this will more than likely continue for some time (forever, maybe?). Because it is beneficial to *like* what you do.nnI don’t “do this” (write) for a living (I’m far too uneducated and uncooperative for that), but I would consider myself *a* writer, which sort of “proves”, or at least provides an example of, anyone who writes or wants to write, or prefers/enjoys writing, or wants to call themselves “a writer” in life can just go ahead and do so – no special “thing” has to happen to make that so. Other than writing here and there every so often, I suppose.nnWhen I was 8-years-old, I was allowed to read the book “Kujo” (“Cujo”?) by Stephen King, because I had read the book “Misery” after seeing the movie, and thought it was the coolest thing ever (the book, but the movie is ok, too). I was probably halfway through K/Cujo (however it is spelled (ffs I am on the Internet, I should just look it up)) when I thought: “I want to do this – write stuff, and *be* a writer”. I had already been in the habit of reading most of the Sunday Edition of the St Louis Post-Dispatch every Sunday after church since I was 7-years-old (a tradition I had, which wasn’t very typical of someone that age), so I knew I *liked* the written word, and I tried to absorb mostly everything I could about writing. I was very young when I sought after, learned about, and absorbed a boatload of whatever I may know today about writing. And even though I continue to see/read/learn things, I probably “became aware” of how stuff can be written (how sentences fit together, different writing narratives, “tone” of writing, etc.) when I was in that “hyper absorption” period of life, when someone is young and has a sponge-like brain of information intake.nnSo, when I was around that age (7, 8, or 9) I was (of course) asked by teachers and counselors: “what do you want to be when you grow up?”, and I would say “a writer”, and I would practice shortform writing, and short fiction, and share stories with people my age, and a bunch of shit that someone who is already “dead set” and decided on what they want their life to become and be “about” does, and just starts to DO that thing.nnSo, there are some tales and text – there’s not a lot to see/read online at the moment, so I will write shit and write about *liking* that fact that I write shit ;)nnBut I am done writing for now. back soon.

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