So About Everything...(or the actual About page) 

Or another lovely title would be unfettered word vomit. 

There are a lot of things I would like to talk about in regards to this website.  Whatever I wrote in the about section has the general idea, but here I would like to get into the specifics...although, I might not get exactly to the point, or even reach my point to begin with. This is why I avoided the About section to write these things anyways. It would've been a mess. Well, it is. But it would have been an unintelligible mess, which as you can see, is unfolding before you.
It's almost like actions speak louder than words, except in this case my actions are words if that makes sense(?). 

As opposed to the about section, which, in my most humble opinion, is seemingly roundabout drivel, what I will write here will be, significantly more roundabout and circuitous.  The bush is my beat and I am all around it, with a sledgehammer. 

So let's get to one of the things I wanted to write about (talk about?) was a specific question: Why? 

Well...why? you might ask, disembodied people from the internet that I'm making ask me this question.

Because I want to. Tough. 

I once read  from a  foreword on a Stephen King  novel that that's really all you have to do.  If  one wants  to write, then do it.  I am one and I am writing, or at the very least I have written as you are reading this. So that's one step finished.

Why I am writing on a website instead of say, sending it to publishers? Now that is something that is less obvious.

I would chalk it up to my love of free things.  Freedom is the inherent state of man, and free things, well... don't mind if I do.  I wanted a platform...good grief I hate that word. I know it's not a terrible word but I've heard it used so many times to describe a website or something online it just sounds downright mediocre at this point. Let's use the word...stage. That's more like it.  It's overused but it's a million times more dramatic.  I want a stage to exhibit my stories.  No...that just sounds pretentious. 

We have settled with stripper pole. The other two sounded much too wide.  The thing I write will move and dance about your imaginations for entertainment . You don't have to pay to watch, but I would certainly appreciate the tip.  (Links to my Kofi in the upper right section in Contacts.) 

It's really just  a place to get myself out there, even if it's limited by my crippling social anxiety and inability to network.  That's not to say I won't send my work out there to publishers to get paid or whatnot as capitalism dictates. I would like to live off my work. This is something just a little extra.  

 Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's move on to the what, in that What am I actually going to write? 

I'm just going to lie. 

I'm not kidding. Everything you will read here is fiction. I am too lazy and my sitting time is too precious to go out and actually write about something out there and so let's just stay in and I'll tell you about something that happened somewhere so far away it doesn't exist. 

I might even draw a picture so it's more convincing. 

What you see before you is  surely not a turd but a coiled up fly viper. Its scientific name is Bardus cacas and it resides in the beaches of the southern region of Dheria. It hides its head beneath its coils and unleashes a putrid stench not unlike excrement, a scent which is twofold in that it wards off most predators and attracts its main prey, which would be the humble fly and local bullshit workers such as myself who delight in throwing this snake at anyone within snake-throwing range.

The only real thing here will be me. Here talking to you, in this specific section of the webby(that's what I've decided to call this btw. Its name is Webby, and it identifies as a stripper pole -because I'm here dancing for you all haha). I mean it's all me really. The stories, the poems and the thoughts. The difference is just tangibility, and arrangement. 

And the interpretation is all very subjective. So really who am I to tell you if it's a lie or not. It's as real as you make it. Or at least as much as you want it to be. I won't be that asshole who breaks immersion. Or maybe I will be, the feeling is fickle. 

I will do what I wish.  And for now that is  to explain, and  I think I'm pretty much done with that.  Webby will be here, holding me and my words.  It's for you to enjoy, and for me to live. Let us hope that it serves as intended.