8 April 2008

Gert. This isn't your daddy's Matt Damon weekly horoscope fanpage. In fact, it's not a fanpage at all. And it's got nothing to do with horoscopes, or Matt Damon. Even if I were into astrology, I sure as hell wouldn't care about Matt Damon's horoscope. I would be, I am, a lot more concerned about my own fate this week.

I know what you're thinking: "what the fuck do you know about my daddy's Matt Damon weekly horoscope fanpage?" And you're right: I've never even been there. I'm sorry if I'd rather not fag it up online with your daddy and his superstitious friends, gossiping about celebrities, and wondering what the stars have in store for Matt (just "Matt") this week. Jesus fucking Christ, I would have to end my life.

Don't get me wrong: nothing against gay people. Just that particular mindless, flaming, celebrity-cult cliche rubs me the wrong way. There's absolutely nothing inherently wrong with your daddy's homosexuality. That qualification surely spares your family much heartache, and efficiently also spares me any accusation of homophobia, which as we all know is intimately linked to homosexuality (repressed). The two always go hand-in-hand. Like your daddy and his latest boytoy (who of course kind of looks like a fucked up Matt Damon), hand-in-hand, sashaying their pretty little selves up and down the town square. God damn it! They piss me off so fucking much! Arggh!

(You might like to know that I just screamed "faggots" real loud, like that big guy Moose or Animal or whatever from Revenge of the Nerds, when he contemptuously screams "nerds!" That's right, I'm a jock. And we rule. And I will say it to your face. Online.)

Here's the truth: this is the beginning of a blog, the uncensored and unshaped mess of my mind, changing changing changing. It happened to occur to me today that some idiot probably has a web page somewhere dedicated to somebody else's horoscope--Somebody famous! (The exclamation mark is theirs. They are excited by celebrities, because they are stupid.) And this amused me. And so, to amuse myself further, at the expense of make-believe stupid people, I thought "What's the most depressing celebrity horoscope web page I can imagine?" Sure enough, Matt Damon came to mind immediately. And soon later on, I was trying to think of a title for this blog. "Matt Damon's Weekly Horoscope" thus very nearly became my title. Fortunately, I was also thinking about clouds today, and how what they do is take form, perpetually and forever. And so I have a more reasonable title, I think. The cloud that took the form.

My right shift key is broken, and these capitals have been a pain in the ass. I just scoffed out loud at initial capitals. I really did. I was lying about the homophobic ejaculation (try to argue that that's not the perfect word for it). ...And, fine, about being a jock. But it's the truth: I just scoffed out loud at initial capitals. The English language looks so ridiculously early-modern when you step back and look at how we write it down. It's kind of like catching a horrifying candid glimpse of yourself passing by a mirror, looking stupid. Or it's like saying a word over and over and over until it becomes vacuous and silly. It's absurd. English.