Virtual Flaneurism

This blog has some kind of personality disorder: immature sex post, immature sex post, REALIST POETRY, gif of Mila Kunis deep-throating her fist. No wonder my readership is growing by the threes every month!

Imagine me trying to explain this crapfest to my mother. "No, no, you're not getting it. There's isn't a reason for the blog. That's not the point. . . yes, yes, it's supposed to be ironic. SHEESH, mother, what is it about tumblring that is so difficult to understand? You clearly haven't been reading the Wired subscription I bought you."

And let's not even get into the fact that I'm supposedly "tumblring" (if that is truly a thing) on blogspot. The internets might implode.

(And, PPS.,in case my mother does read this, and so as to dispel the possibility of some unintended offense caused by the above imagined monologue, let me clarify that the funny was intended to be on me for having an unreasonable, nonsensical and absolutely unproductive pastime. . . not on my mother for wondering why I spend hours upon hours a day doing it.)