What the fuck, Damian

I've gotten used to people not reading my main blog. I mean, occasionally I'll get a stray comment from someone I've never heard from and will never will again. But for the most part the regulars stop by, skim maybe, hear the featured track and say something about it.

Enter Damian Wei. A cool little Canadian Asian with a sweet blog. Nothing too original, nothing too visibly pleasing, but it's a decent blog and I actually enjoy even the lengthiest of posts. He's cool, check out his blog.

DWei here has been a regular at my main for a long time. He's shown his occasional skimming, and even went as far as to make a comment that clearly stated he didn't hear something enough to comment about it, something about I just wish I could understand them when they sing. But see, Damian is usually very cool. I let it slide. Poke fun at it, return to daily life because it's no big deal.

But just a little while ago, Damian posted this:

I mean look at it, it's cute

The part that gets to me is my reply. Yes; me. Because once I have to go, "Hey dude, just look at the fucking page when it loads up" I realize how stupid it is that this became a comment at all. When I care about a fellow blogger's blog enough to get in contact with them, I surf the page. I check for the latest post, or any feeds they might have.

Here's the problem.

Seriously. It's the first thing you should see.

Not only is there an explanation to my absence right underneath the header, but there's a Twitter and Facebook link just above that. Both of those accounts also have the given information. I made it as clear as possible to those who care that hey, I have to take a little break, but I'll be back.

The comment was probably left so I would return to his blog when it updates, in traditional blogger you scratch my back I scratch yours fashion. I don't really flow that way anymore. So Damian and any other bloggers I follow, the reason I do and comment is because you write something interesting. If I don't like something or if I have nothing to say, I won't unless you're Fran or Ray.

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Farts

Edit:

See? He's alright.

Nests

Image Source

This post might read better with Tell Him by The Exciters playing. Here's a link if you're interested.

Do you remember that young couple you passed by at the park a while ago? Or, well maybe you don't. They kinda just blend in with everything else, don't they? They were cute, and who really cares if they're buried into their faces. Eskimo kisses are adorable, let the young ones do what they do while it lasts. When was the last time you held someone at a bench, just because? Enjoying the beautiful day, existing within a bubble of happiness.

They're probably having some really in depth conversation about a topic they won't remember in 2 days. She's probably saying something like "Macy's being real mean at work lately, she reminds me of all the adults on that one movie we just saw... What was it again?"

Which is probably followed by "Oh, you mean The Santa Clause? Wait, how does that even work? I was too drunk that night to remember what they were like.." and it goes on and eventually they look dead into each others eyes, slowly lean and do that cute thing you probably haven't done in a long time. Hey look, there you are, passing by. You were kinda far, it's no wonder you didn't notice. You should be glad though, you didn't wanna witness this.

It was intimate; a gentle parting of lips. That initial moment they had there, within the middle of the rest of the world, right before she sunk her tongue in an attempt to meet his. But she didn't. She'd been with him for 6 months and this was just not how he kissed. For starters, he never had his eyes spread open in fear during these ever intimate moments. And no, there was no serial killer with an ax standing behind her. He did realize, however, that he no longer had a tongue.

He shoved her off of the bench. A rude gesture to which she stood up and gave him a well deserved slap. Her hand then quickly made way to her chin, where she dusted off an inch long spider. And then picked one out from of under her lip. By now, her eyes were as wide as his.

And he was just, you know, laying face-down at the bench. Trying to empty the cavity of hundreds of carnivorous spiders who'd rapidly devoured his tongue. The same spiders that made his throat seem like it had moving hives. The same spiders who had nested in his stomach for months, and finally found their way back out to light.

Sources here and here