I cut my pinky

For some reason, I don't I feel like writing those dumb "columns" I said I'd write. I'm not trying to be post-effing-modern, but I guess the idea of posting things under a "column" makes me not want to write anything at all. 

Also, from my previous experiences in trying to keep up a blog, I've realized that writing about things I'm going to write about makes me less likely to write about what I said I'd write about. I said "write about" too much, didn't I? 

My pinky hurts, though. I looked at it in the middle of the day and found a cut on the tip of it. It hurts to type, and I bet it'll be infected if I type too much because of all the grease that covers my almost three year old keyboard.

I guess, since I'm here I should actually write something, though. Actually, what I was going to write about was something I've been working on. It's a short story, but it's in a kind of planning stage right now. So if I say anything more about it, I'm afraid that I won't actually take the time to write it. Thus, I will leave the nonexistent you with a promise: It will not make you think about dumb things like life, religion, and all the other stuff that actually matters in the world. It is also probably going to take me months to finish at the pace I do things. So expect to see it someday, maybe.

Goodbye and good heavens