my friend picked it up right away. after a couple of days he was posting regularly.he picked up the tricks of the trade.he could take a funny idea and make a small witty paragraph about it. after a couple of months the spontaneity seemed to depart from his writing. my friend then used stories from his childhood. soon he ran out of them. he then stole other friends stories, passing them off as his own. soon he ran out of them. he found himself standing in the street trying to catch ideas from the conversations of passers-by. then he became a leech, a floater, pensive, irritable. a poorly worded post would eat away at him. soon his own home became a hunting ground. deeply personal memories and stories of life with his girlfriend, fights, arguments. intimate touches. all were used to have something to blog. then he turned to local schoolkids. he would hide in a bush in the playpark with a pen and notepad scribbling down innocent utterings from the kids on the see-saw and monkey bars. soon he became infamous amongst local children. "run! its that pervert that wants your stories!" next were strangers funerals. he would pretend to be a distant cousin and extract the very essence of what these peoples lives had amounted to. sometimes a heroic action, sometimes just a phrase. the local priests soon became too aware of him and he had to change tack once again. he began to loosen wheelnuts on cars. spill drinks on burly mens wives. eat things resulting in hospitalisation. anything to create a situation or occurence or happening. anything that could possibly be blogged about.
then came murder.
first it was small animals, birds, rodentia. the experience of squeezing the life from something, cooking it. making it into a hat maybe. pulling the head off it and gluing it onto barbies. with each little death came the push to do something surreal or vulgar with the little corpse. then the corpses got bigger. cats, large dogs, barnyard animals, an african elephant. soon there were no birds left on telegraph poles. zoos were desolate.
then human life. he started in the west and moved east. families, their neighbours, entire book groups wiped out for something to blog about. by the time the army moved in he had a bloodlust undented by machine guns. i suspect the devil read his blog and protected him from the artillery shells,the napalm, the nuclear missiles. there is no earthly way to explain it.
in the end his mouse gummed up with fluff one afternoon and he was unable to click the compose button.he took his own life later that day. then he blogged about that. he took his own life 7 times in all. posting the details each time. then finally his spirit left him and he returned to lucifer. i miss him, and i'm sure he would want his story told, to let people know where this stuff can all lead. so take care. take great care…..