So here we go.
I have caved to the pressure. What pressure might you ask? The pressure of those pesky voices in my head. The inevitable recognition of those chatterboxes that keep many of us awake at night. Rather than let them sit idle (and possibly give me a brain tumor), I have decided to parlay them into something semi-constructive.
I look at this post as somewhat of a preface of things to come. You see, I like to set things up. I’m a planner. Like all of us I look to the future, but with that, I also cannot ignore all of the steps leading up to the future, and thus I feel this innate need to outline point A to point Infinity. In this particular instance, the future is my writing. So without further ado, let’s get the formalities out of the way and we’ll go from there.
What will I write about? I guess the better, more pertinent question is, what won’t I write about? I probably won’t write about politics. Or poverty in Africa. Or give the odds on when Twitney Spears might end up dead in a gutter with a needle serenely suspended out of a vein in her bony arm. Other than that, I suppose it is all fair game. It may be dark from time to time. It may be completely outrageous. It (and of course by “It” I mean these words of mine) may make absolutely no sense and send your head spinning in a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. What it will always be, however, is mine…all mine. Unadulterated, uninhibited musings of my alter ego that, from time to time, will take over every fiber of my body and speak in the tongues that only I understand. But I promise, if you read on, I will make every effort to suck you into this endless pit that I call a soul.
I am not going to get personal. I am not going to try and make you feel sorry about the inequities I may suffer, or the trials and tribulations of the Longstar (save for the occasional story of me flipping the bird to some poor random soul who has no business being behind the wheel). I am not going to tell you about my day at work or what kind of cereal I didn’t have for breakfast. I will hide behind the shadow of anonymity until: A. You, my Reader, figure out who I am, or B. I become incredibly famous and have no choice but to emerge from the aforementioned shadow.
With that, you may call me LongStar. Or The Dude (name the movie). This is my alter ego and I choose to keep it that way. Don’t ask me what it means, because frankly, you probably don’t deserve to know. Some of you who read this truly know me…a round of applause for putting up with me. If you are one of the Unfortunates, please keep all personal comments out of this forum…there is a time and place for that and it’s called ______.
I find that questions stimulate conversation like a cattle prod stimulates a moo-cow to get moving, so feel free to fire away. I love to get started on a rant that has not been produced by the Voices, thus if you feel as though you can hang with the wide array of responses, many of which may be sarcastic, bring it on. But beware…if you can’t take the heat, stay out of the fireplace.
Come on and rock me Amadeus.