Friday, January 15, 2010

How high on the FriendChart can a nickname get?

Dear Schmeat,

As I sat alone on a Friday night, in my tiny hermit cave of an apartment, nestled snugly in the heart of Bed-Stuy, the stink of gentrification and whiskey wafting through the air all around me, Foreigner's Waiting for a Girl Like You playing on the Pandora, I couldn't help but wonder what you've been doing with yourself since we last spoke.

It's been awhile, I know, and I understand if you're not immediately receptive to my correspondence, but I think that in time you'll find that our break was for the best. I mean, lets face it, when we started this we had big plans. We were going to take the blogosphere by storm, and for awhile, it looked like we might just do it. Back then, when I was still a wide eyed and fresh faced, blogger, inspired by little more than spite and petty jealousy toward my friend Chad's girlfriend, simply because mentions of me in her own blog were not proportionate to my self-purported importance in both of their lives.

But somehow, somewhere we lost our way. My blogs were supposed to be about important things like how wrong other people are, or how right I am. Issues people could not only relate to, but learn from, like how I expect nothing more from my gay friends than to offer up their female friends to me for shallow, commitment free sex. (Though I now realize that's what my married female friends are for) By the end, though, I was blogging about spelling mistakes, Spelling Mistakes!! How did it all go so wrong?

But I'm not looking backward Schmeat. I'm looking forward. It's been a strange and confusing first half of the thirtieth year of my life, and while I haven't spent nearly as much time around people as I have in other years, due in no small part to my own caustic personality, the human interactions I did have really pissed me off. I've found myself more full of angst and unreasonable opinions than I have in a long time.

That, Schmeat, is why I've decided to rededicate myself to this crazy little expirement we launched together, if you'll have me back that is. I know I don't have much to offer, just my limited intellect, relatively meager vocabulary, and a writing style that defines the word verbose, but what I lack in actual talent or skill, I make up for in overcompensation, an unfounded sense of superiority, and a seeming inability to recognize when I am absolutely, without a doubt wrong.

So what do you say Schmeat? Do you want to give this another shot? I know the road ahead will be rocky, and I'm certain I'll disappoint you, over and over and over again, but I sure as hell will try (as much as I am capable of trying given my debilitating laziness) Together, we can once again brighten the lives of upwards of two people, and that is all one can really ask for....when they lack any desernable aptitude.