Empty

I have a fear. One day I will wake up, go to the computer, log on, and have nothing to say. That will be it – I will be facing my three-year-old blurry picture, my cookie-cutter blog, and think to myself, "I have nothing else to say. I am tapped out."

When I started this – I was just looking for a place to hang my 15 stories (actually, there were only 11 – one was a 4-parter, one was a 2-parter). That's all I wanted. I took time on those stories – and I enjoyed writing them. I mean, I really enjoyed writing them (hitting the reader over the head, please read: "I masturbated while writing them – they are my erotic dreams, perhaps the dreams of a sick woman.")

And no one cared.

Then I started writing my tripe, and people came by to say how dumb I was, how funny I was, whatever. Attention. And like any good attention whore, I was hooked.

And now I am thinking – now, I can hope interest for a week, a month, maybe, but I am not all that interesting a person. I am really not. One of these days I will run out of ideas, and that will be the end. Synapses will stop firing in new patterns, and I might start writing something, and then think, "I have already written that."

I started around the first of September – and already I have seen a couple of virtual friends drop out of this blogging marathon that we do.

This occurred to me when I was thinking of how different our lives are – as apposed to a dozen years ago (had I written this on myspace.com, I would be more right since the majority of them were in diapers).

We are unlocking so many mysteries, medical, technological, all sorts of mysteries. The Lock Ness Monster was a fake (I hated finding that out), people are working on an AIDS vaccine (still wear condoms, not fully tested). All sorts of things.

Coming into work today I was thinking to myself, "Why have they not found out how to mimic an orgasm?" I mean, men can take a pill to get stiffy (and blue vision, a bonus side effect for some of them). We should be able to mimic an orgasm.

But then I began to think – holy smoly, if someone did come up with a device, a pill, a something, it would be the end of society as we know it. I can picture women in dark alleys, mechanical devise in their vagina, just enjoying multiple orgasms. People would starve or steal or whatever, just to get those magic Os.

Heck, if I had such a devise now, I would have it in, start to blog, and then have an O, have another O, and then think, "Holy smoly, who the heck cares about blogging, when I can feel this good." I mean, there would be a disciple of science set up just to take care of the side effects – something for the nipples, because with all of those Os, you know you would have sore nips.

Or men, you would have – well, I don't know, a sore stiffy. I was always told about blue balls – never saw any, but I am not sure that men "need to release every once in a while." I think it is a ploy to get a random blow job.

I was just thinking . . . . guess I am not out of ideas yet. One good thing about brain spasms. But until they invent the magical orgasm devise (I would definitely be an addict) or I run out of ideas, I guess I will pour them out somewhere.