Back in the day, Trey was the only one around here who had the power to begin a new issue of The Strangelands. What this meant was, come the first of every month (actually, I think it was around the third or fourth, considering that I didn’t write nearly as much crap back then—you know, in the day) I was on the phone, either talking to him or leaving him a message, telling him to get his lazy ass over to the computer and get a new month up.
Something about working in front of a computer makes that guy not really want to do it at home. I’ve seen this kind of behavior before—I have a writer friend that runs my hometown newspaper, and although she can really string words together, she hardly ever does—some bullshit about how after being forced to write, it’s not nearly as cool to do it for fun.
We’ve had long conversations about it, and I’ve tried and tried to get her to return to recreational writing, but even with my amazing charm and fantastic debating skills (“Come on—you should write.” “I don’t feel like it, Ray.” “Come on—you should write.” “Seriously, Ray, leave me alone about it.” “Come on—you should write.” “Get out of my house.”) it’s been to no avail.
But that’s not what we’re here to discuss—if I wanted to talk about how I think everyone should always write, I could probably squeeze out an entire post about it. What we’re here to discuss is the 28th issue of The Strangelands, and why I’m here introducing it to you.
Eventually, Trey got tired of that time of the month—the first of it when I called hounding him about updating the site—and handed me a key to what has really become quite an obsession. His only words of advice were “You have to do a news post first.” I don’t know why this is important, but I’ve stuck to those guidelines ever since…that guideline ever since.
At the time, I felt sort of nervous, and not really up to the challenge of beginning each month. I looked back over old issues, trying to find any sort of a pattern that I should stick to, trying to find something to help me begin the beginning. If you’ve ever checked out past issues, you know that I found no help. There’s no pattern there, there’s no constant that makes us who we are—just a bunch of random whatever, thrown or spilled across the page like a bottle of whiskey against a wall, or a glass of red wine on a friend’s new white couch.
To tell you the truth, I still don’t know if I’m up to the challenge of ushering in anything new—whether we’re talking about a page on a crazy website or anything else. I mean, sure I’ll ramble on throughout the month—various babbled nonsense is like my main event in the Special Olympics. So I still look back sometimes, just to see what’s what, or at least what was what. Sometimes I laugh. Sometimes, I cover my face in that way you can only do when you’re sort of embarrassed—you know, like when your mom breaks out the home video in front of your date. Or, in my case, that tape from Cops where all the policemen are beating me and spraying shit in my eyes, and I’m screaming at them to stop, it was all just a big misunderstanding, I didn’t know that the old lady would escape, or I never would have done it.
So I was looking back tonight, over the last two years or so of my life, and I realized something: that sonuvabitch Trey rarely started the new issue with a news post. Like half the time, he did, that’s it. I was the first one to post anything a few times, and Carey was actually the first person to ever post anything on this site.
It’s sad that it’s taken me over two years to realize this, and it’s probably just flat-out depressing that I’m taking so long to tell you about it. It just sort of caught me by surprise, that’s all.
Anyways, here’s April—we’re in it. How freakin’ exciting is that? I’m not a big fan of April, but if you like it, that’s cool—I won’t harsh you. *Coughcoughdouchebag!cough* What? No, I didn’t say anything. Just coughing, is all.
Glad you’re back, Li’l Homies.