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| The Seven Deadly Blogs | |
| By Leo | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 09 June 2006 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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I thought that i would share some blogs with you. BLOG 1: sloth Welcome, to my world… A world through which I pass at my own pace. I’m not in a hurry. I like to take it easy, as my health is not so good anymore. My breathing becomes laboured so much more quickly these days. I seem to sweat so readily. I should get out of bed, but I just can’t be bothered. At 62 stone it has become physically impossible for me to stand now anyway. So, I like to take it easy. It seems pointless even thinking about making myself busy and expending calories. I have no need to work anyway. My parents saw to that before they died. My trust fund more than suffices. It enables me to satisfy my needs. I have everything I need at my fingertips; my remote control, my laptop and, most importantly, my food. I have a girl, Christiana, who comes in every day. She checks on me, bathes me, replenishes my food and keeps the place tidy. Who could want more? Laying here on my king sized bed, I traverse deepest cyberspace. I find the web very intriguing. Increasingly it has become my life. I can travel the world and never leave my bed. So why waste the energy?. BLOG 2: gluttony That stupid hired help. Who does she think she is. She has tried to deny me yet again. This morning when she came to stock by my bedside table. She tried to give me salad and fruit. I want food. Proper food. Substantial food. Food I can taste. Not this bland, inspid, empty rubbish. I told the little bitch I would report her to immigration. I told her to bring me chicken, beef burgers, chips, ice cream, chocolate, biscuits and cakes. Bring me sumptuous sweet things; bring me flesh basted in thick fat. Bring me tantalising savoury things. I need food. The sort of food that is a physical pleasure to consume. The sort that provides that unmistakably, sensuous experience as it is devoured. I WANT my food. The small price that I pay for such indulgence is the indigestion that sometimes rakes its acidic fingers along my gullet. It is a small price to pay. The bed sores are far more painful. The dressings need to be changed today, and thankfully, at long last, the anti-biotics are beginning to bring the infection under control. It has been an hour since my feeding. My stomach shows its discontent by growling, the digestive juices have started flowing again. My mouth is watering. It tells me that I’m ready for my next treat. I push the bell by the bedside. Where is that silly girl with my food? I NEED my food…. Temporarily sated I log back on to the net. What a truly wondrous invention. Just recently, a new site has caught my eye; The Great Writing Website. It keeps me faintly amused sifting through the output of rank amateurs BLOG 3: envy I am visiting this site with increasing regularity…. BRN, GC, BBS, cynicsid, mishmash, brook_rivers, woody44, tigermoons, name after name after name. I feel strangely tense when I read their work. Contempt maybe.? I can tell you one thing that it’s not, and that’s for sure; jealousy. No way. Whatever it is I don’t like it. It gives me a tight feeling in my chest. It can’t be good for my heart. I’m sure that it is just luck that their writing flows. That the words equal infinitely more than the sum total of their parts. They must have crept out under cover of darkness and stolen these words. I will not accept that they are original works… never!..never!.. enough of this nonsense, I think that it is time that I visited some other sites and sought some.. ‘diversion’… I feel more relaxed now. Still I am perplexed. Curiosity pulls me back to the Great Writing Website. I am convinced that if I look closely, I will be able to pull the work apart and expose the flaws. Hang on… what is this? ..’ACCESS DENIED’? .. the site is under some sort of attack on their server..rubbish!.. if you ask me it’s all a ruse. If you ask me, they are running scared.. ha.. ha.. ha..… so pitiful…so predictable.. BLOG 4: pride What I lack in physical mobility, I more than make up for in intellectual prowess. I can write. Of that I have absolutely no doubt. It’s easy. There are only 26 letters. You have only to assemble them on the page. I have the capacity to do this with the flair and panache that so many others, so obviously lack. I look at my latest piece. It’s technically perfect. The structure is tight. It has flow, balance and weight. It speaks with a unique voice. None of these other fools could assemble work with such mastery. Still, I must share my gift. Not to do so would be …immodest… If I’m honest, I don’t believe that these others are worthy of sharing the same web space as me, but I suppose one must give others hope… or at least the illusion of hope... I have also made sure that everything that I post is copyrighted; I need to protect my creative genius, from these pathetic scavengers who would steal from me.. You may laugh at my diligence, but please do not under estimate me. Please don’t doubt me for one moment. If anyone steals from me, I will take action to crush them. I will ruin them. I will sue for every last penny.. BLOG 5: greed Ah yes, the money... There is so much money to be made. I will wring every last penny out of those empty and vacuous consumers. Those who need work like mine to bring some meaning into their mundane, ordinary lives. I have already begun sending out feelers to agents. I wonder who will be lucky enough to represent me?. I have already decided that I will pay no more than 3% in commission. That in itself will be worth millions to the leech who gets lucky. Whoever they are, they will very soon realise that they are working for me. They will be sure to do exactly as I tell them. Nothing will be left to chance. I will have complete and utter control. I will pore over the financial statements every night, and account for every penny. Because every single, delicious, one belongs to me. In time, I plan to build my empire. I will publish my own work. I will not line the pockets of nameless, faceless, talentless middlemen who swan around publishing houses with their personal organisers, trying to create the illusion that they are important. With my sales being made through the web, my access to the market will be maximised. Sales will be possible globally, 365 days a year, 24 hours a day. Yes, yes, very agreeable. Like any successful businessman I will need to minimise costs. That will also be easy. I will insist that the printing is done in the Far East. Today I e-mailed the relevant government departments. It will be so much cheaper. I hear the locals will work for a bowl of rice…. Who said there was such a thing as ethics in business?. Anita Roddick Scmoddick BLOG 6: lust My impending fame is like an aphrodisiac. I haven’t had these feelings for so long. I had believed that the diabetes had destroyed my appetites in those areas. But no. I feel electricity in my loins. My groin stirs when I entertain certain, intimate thoughts. I need release.. Christiana came in today. As part of her duties today she has to bathe me and change my dressings. I feel a frisson when she touches me there. I am sure she secretly enjoys this part of her work. As adults I believe that ‘activities’ like the one I have in mind can be completed quite objectively. No strings need be attached. After all concepts such as love and respect are so …outmoded. I was insistent that she fully satisfied my needs. Oh how she cried and pleaded. But I was in no mood for her pitiful theatrics. I told her I would have her deported, along with her snivelling brat. I reminded her that a detention centre was no place to bring up a child. She eventually acquiesced. I knew she would. She knew what was good for her. Yes, very very satisfying. Already I want more. I need more. I touch myself and the electricity is already returning. Tomorrow I will explore other newly awakened….‘desires’. Christiana will have to learn to become even more accommodating... BLOG 7: wrath (offline) Day 1: That ungrateful little bitch. That poisonous little gold digger. I am still in a state of shock. She came in today and dared to tell me she’d had enough. She told me she was going to take what I owed her out of my bank account... She has unplugged my phone line. She has left me with only a few scraps of food. She is a Bitch BITCH BITCH!!… as god is my witness if I ever get my hands on her I will tear her heart out…. Day 2: I have been without food for almost 24 hours I am without fluid I can’t empty my commode I feel dizzy, light headed, nauseous… The stench of the suppurating sores is repulsive, the pain is immeasurable.. Day 3: My mouth now is as dry as chalk My bedsores have stuck to the sheets.. My legs are numb,… such bad pins and needles.. My chest hurts.. it’s hard to breath… Surely somebody will come soon. Somebody will notice I am not posting on the site...idiots.. talentless imbeciles… they NEED me! Day 4: I think I am seeing things. Last night, I thought my mother visited my bedside. The stupid, thoughtless bitch didn’t even bring food. Doesn’t she love me?? I am having difficulty thinking…focusing my thoughts… the pain.. Bitch! BITCH!! BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv (For the record, this text continues for 136,874 pages. It was ended when the police officer removed the dead hand from the keyboard)
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