"Cheese Sandwich Blog"

I recently learned this term-- I'm so not up on my blogspeak. Apparently a "cheese-sandwich blog" is a straightforward, diary-style blog in which the writer simply described things they've done/said/consumed that day without any real creative commentary.

In other words: "I had a cheese sandwich." Yeah.

I apologize for the pervasive cheese-sandwichy-ness of this blog lately. And by "lately," I mean, "since I quit stripping, which accounts for, oh, the past 22 months." Yeah, it sucks out loud. I know.

When I worked at the pussy auctions, every day was psychedelic, bracing. There was so much to observe, so many things that turned me on. I blogged even when I wasn't at a computer. I napkin-blogged, skin-blogged, scrawled entries on the virgin perimeters of my Converse. I was also using blogging as a vehicle-- a propellant, really-- so there was an escape-artist urgency to the whole venture. I was digging myself out. I checked my stats every five heartbeats.

Now I've transferred that mania to my professional writing, so the blog gets the Fat Veinous Shaft.

I'm totally aware. And I hate talking about my life. Hate it. I'd love to observe another person for a year and blog them. It's not exhibitionism that fuels me-- it's voyeurism. I miss watching people. And I can't really write about the people I interact with these days or I might get dooced. And someone has to pay the rapist-drywaller in my basement. See?

And I'm writing this as if anyone gives a shit! In apologizing for my cheese-sandwichousity, I have built the ultimate cheese sandwich. It's a nine-tier Dagwood oozing with provolone. Fuck.