I sort of enjoy reading the stuff that I write, an enjoyment which usually expires in about 1 year, after which I get all vomity and despise my pretentious, shallow thoughts. I noted that I have been blogging quite more heavily these past few days, and as usual I’ve been reading and re-reading them all like a total schizoid, and realized that if you read all of these in one go it’s quite… noisy. Like the non-stop droning commentary of an auditory hallucination of schizophrenics. In other words, nakakarindi. All those long, run-on sentences, all those whines, all that self-righteous or self-deprecating garbage that can be likened to an over-cheese powdered junkfood, that I find myself telling myself: shut up, or I’ll drag your butt to hell. So I’ll probably try to shut up, not everyone’s/no one’s interested in your vein-poking non-adventures, so zip it.