SPOILER ALERT: If you don't want to know how I create these magnificent blog posts, then stop reading. Don't spoil the magic. I'm pulling back the curtain to expose the wizard. No, that's not a euphemism for something filthy. Grow up.
Normally when I start writing a blog post, I have a hazy notion of where it's going and just let myself get carried there on a wave of preposterously over-worked similes, scatological comparisons and unnecessary swearing.
There's also something vaguely approaching a template that I tend to follow. It goes like this:
1) Start with a hook line to draw people in. This might be something like "I nearly had to call the police because I got trapped in a piece of plastic" or "This morning I was almost bitten by a dog". To you, these probably seem like amusing occurrences. For me, they're the ONLY occurrences. My life is, in general, so utterly bleak and uninteresting that I'm amazed my heart hasn't stopped beating out of sheer disgust just to put me out of my misery. Occasionally, when laying in bed at night, trying to envelop myself in the sweet release of unconsciousness, I suddenly realise that I've stopped breathing and have to take a panicked breath. I'm convinced that my body is conspiring against me - desperate to release itself from this hellish tragedy that I laughingly call a life.
Anyway, these hook lines are designed to pique the reader's interest, compelling them to wade through the rest of my hastily written, poorly conceived words. Sometimes I don't bother with the hook line at all, so I think you can safely assume that the next few points I make will be equally meaningless and open to interpretation. It's important to set out your stall early.
2) Waffle on for a while to give a little background into what it is you're going to be ranting about. This lets the reader settle down into the main thrust of the piece which, in fairness, is usually me being angry about something of no importance whatsoever.
3) Go off on a tangent, moaning about how dreary everything is, calling people made-up terms like 'fuck-knuckle' or 'rage-pig'. Using these sorts of words means you can avoid having to widen your vocabulary. You may wish to write single words on pieces of paper and then draw them, two at a time, to create exciting new combinations. For example, "fuck", "cock", "twat", "monkey", "bag" and "tard" are all excellent starting points. (note to self: use 'cock-tard' at some point, that appears to be a new one...)
4) Create some bizarre mental images usually involving bulging, tumescent genitalia, faeces, mindless violence and angry, simian shouting. These are all tried and tested techniques. The act of zoomorphism (the opposite of anthropomorphism) is particularly effective. You will notice that I often refer to myself as "hooting like an ape" or "bellowing like an enraged gorilla". This sort of animalisation works very well. Particularly when, like me, you actually do resemble a disgruntled orangutan.
5) Finish the whole thing with either a cyclical reference to an earlier part of the post, neatly tying the two ends together, or just let it fizzle out pathetically. The latter tends to happen a lot when I've grown tired of the sound of my own written voice.
So that's the template. It's not something that I actually stick to, it seems to just happen. Now that you know about it, you can create your own blog! Unfortunately, I will have to sue you for copyright infringement. Sorry about that.
Anyway, this particular post has fallen at the first hurdle as it's being written with absolutely no direction whatsoever. It's 2.30 a.m. and, due to me falling asleep in the armchair while watching The Ballad of Cable Hogue on TCM, I'm wide awake and a bit bored. I had a cup of coffee earlier which was a truly awful idea in retrospect, made some toast with marmite which was utterly delicious as one would expect, and am now desperately trawling around the Internet for something to look at that isn't pornographic in nature.
Twitter is pretty much dead at the moment because most of the UK folks are asleep and most of the Americans are out either enjoying their Friday night post-work celebrations or invading oil-rich countries (I went a bit Ben Elton there. Sorry about that.)
Frankly, I'm bored. Really bored. I've smoked far too many cigarettes in the last few hours and if I had something alcoholic to drink I would have guzzled it with gusto within minutes.
Philip Glass is flowing out of the speakers, the gentle repetition ebbing and flowing like the waves of a mighty yet gentle ocean. Normally, I love Glass' stuff but tonight his music seems to be mocking me - the endless re-occurrence of the same notes mirroring the pointless cycle of my own life. At least with Glass' music it builds and transforms, becoming something new and exciting. For me, this shit goes on and on every day without hope or mercy. It really is interminable.
I haven't even got anything to rant about. The last couple of days have been predictably uneventful to the stage that I've had to consider whether I should put myself into positions of mortal danger just to have something to write about.
The Stupidity of Me Part 2
"Today, I nearly got savaged by a lion when I accidentally fell into the enclosure at Colchester Zoo dressed as a springbok. LOL!"
See? Wouldn't work.
So here I sit, awake, bored, listless, unable to think of anything to write about. And yet, despite these seemingly insurmountable hurdles, I've still managed to produce a thousand words about precisely fuck all.
Frankly, I'm either a genius or a cock-tard (wink).
You be the judge.