Ok, maybe just buzzed. Maybe a little more than buzzed. Whatever. We had a quarter pitcher of mojitos left from the weekend, and damned if they don’t go bad quick, so I thought to polish them off before bed tonight.
I am, if nothing else, a thorough polisher.
The nice thing about this delightful level of near intoxication is that I feel a bit more free in expressing my opinions than I might otherwise be. Not, mind you, that I endeavor to conceal the truth, but I do try hard to be a nice person in general and follow the old axiom that if you don’t have something nice to say, you don’t say it at all.
And here, my lovelies, is the beautiful moment of tonight’s rum filled rant.
You are all so very, very beautiful.
I have only been on WordPress for slightly more than a month. I will admit, I did not think this mad experiment would last. I’ve had blogs in the past, and every single one of them failed within the first two weeks. I found it far too easy to find excuses and abandon my works and words. It was only the words of the ever talented, ever awesome Delilah Dawson that I decided to try one more time (and clearly, the drunk isn’t quite drunk enough, as I am still able to post hyperlinks – damned my blue eyes and their alcohol resistance!).
But, I have found here more than just a place to throw my thoughts, to weave my silly little tales of thieves and cons and lovers all. I have found here an amazing collection of writers. WRITERS! You hear that people? All of you, all of you that I choose to follow…you are fucking WRITERS. Not aspiring, not novice, not wanna-bes. You. Are. Fucking. WRITERS.
And I love your work.
I do. Because I’m still a nice dude. I still try hard not to say anything if I have nothing nice to say.
So if I commented on your story, on your blog, on your musings, its because what you wrote touched me. Inspired me. Made me think. Made me dream.
That, I think, is the mark of a true writer. When you can put something down in words that makes another dream, what greater glory is there than that?
I came here to write. Nothing more.
I found, to my delight, a place to read.
Thank you, dear friends. From the bottom of my heart (and my empty pitcher). Your words are gold, and I cherish them with the greed of a dwarven king.
Yeah, I’m a lovey drunk. Sue me.