So, here it is my first blog entry. After several hours perusing 'how to' guides for the 21st century blogger, (I'm pretty sure there hasn't been any other predecessor of internet blogger, therefore that witticism was void), I was feeling pretty confident. I'd found somewhere to host my blog, set myself up with a handy desktop editing application, found an extensive source of free image websites, (which I was assured would help my blog stand out and captivate you lovely people), and I'd even decorated the page with a theme, which I felt was unmatched anywhere else on the world wide web. I was ready. I was reigning supreme. My imagination hurtled into the future and my blog had already been published and the film rights hotly sought after. I was listed as one of the up and coming people to to take notice of in 2010, appearing on glossy magazine covers with a whole host of talented new starlets under 25, spanning across all genres, from music to film to literature. There I stood, elbow to elbow with them, my satire and witticisms gushed over by sycophantic presenters and Guardian columnists alike. Success felt good. No, it felt great.
However my glittering world of giddy success and satisfying recognition was interrupted by the incessant blinking of the cursor. And it was at that moment I realised there was something missing. There was a slight pothole in my road to fame, and that was...well the content namely. Or lack of. You see, the websites I'd compiled as my blogging 'how to' bible courtesy of Google, had implicitly mentioned to focus on a niche topic or an 'interest'. And I was without. I didn't want to list my interests and find just one topic to centre my creative intellect around as they suggested. How banal.
Or was it? A topic of interest...something which motivates me, something which I'm passionate about. Well there was one thing. But does misanthropy count as a topic? I mean its no secret that I often descend in to fits of misguided rage, with cultural or current events being the main offenders. Now at least I'd have an outlet for my rants. An outlet which would unceremoniously showcase my brutal and often sarcastically nihilistic views. Now, in no way, was I naive to think that I had stumbled upon an original idea. The internet is rife with angry rants concerned with popular culture, brimming with satire and mocking undertones. But didn't I just mention that I infuse wit with nihilism? I know you're interested.
Now it's all very well catering to your warped mind, but were the rest of the web surfers out there ready for this fully fledged attack on anything and everything they held dear to their hearts? Were they ready to be mocked and satirised continuously? Leaving no little cultural nuance unscathed? Indeed, was I ready for the inevitable backlash? There was only way to find out...
And so the blinking cursor blinked no more and raced forward, becoming more furious and consistent with each line. Maybe I'm not supposed to be liked anyhow. The glittering image of prior naivety faded. I had to face facts. I'd always been one for infamy.
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