"He doesn't look a thing like Jesus, but he talks like a gentleman"

Y'know what?

Sometimes when I read the blogs of friends, I wish I could write like them. They're (the blogs) short and to the point. I tend to go on and on about nothing. It's not that I want to be quick and to the point; I enjoy writing. I really do.
But there's not much going on in my life to write about, so I oftentimes write about the same shit over and over again.

And really, narrative writing has never been a real strong point of mine. I'm kinda weird like that. I don't generally like talking about what I do during the day. I'd rather talk about what's going on in my head, ya know?
What I'm thinking. My dreams. My aspirations.
Maybe deep down I wish I could change the world. There's plenty wrong with it.

War. It's a load of shit. Look at Iraq, for example. The US is bombing those poor friggers because.... why?? They're afraid the Arabs are going to attack 'em? Because of 9/11? Sure, that was a huge tragedy, but a constant attack on a country that has no real hope of actual retaliation is utterly mindless. It's retarded.

Fighting for peace is like fucking for chastity.

Oh yeah, as soon as I write that, Born in the USA comes on. Just a tad ironic.

So I can't really take credit for that quote about fighting for peace. I read that in the book I got today from the Easter Bunny. If you're interested, it's Stephen King's "On Writing". I've been wanting to read it since I learned of it's existence, but for whatever reason never ever bought it. With the exception of a nap or two, I've been reading it pretty much non-stop all day.
Well, not just the naps... I've had computer breaks as well. But I mean, what would my life be without the internet?

Wow.
That's actually kinda sad that I had to realize that. My life wouldn't be much if I didn't have this computer in front of me. It's defined me for far too long.

That's something else I have to change about myself, now that I've realized it. I am far too connected to this world. Yes, I have people that I talk to and communicate with through the internet, and the internet is a wonderful tool.
But I think I have become a little too dependent on it. When I move out to town, I'll hardly be inside at all. I mean, come on. The first of May pretty much means the first day of Spring for me.
This will be a beautiful and fun-filled summer for Matthew Baker.
I need to really recharge my batteries, and the only way I can do it is with more cowbell.

Don't get that vague reference? Well you don't watch enough television.

Let's get back to "On Writing". It's fascinating. I was as excited to start reading it as I was when... hmm... when I got my first Game Boy back in 1988. Or '89. Whatever.
I couldn't wait to open it; that's what I'm trying to get across. It's a cross between a memoir and his own explanation on how he goes about writing a story. Where his inspiration comes from. It's as non-put-downable as any other book by King I've ever read.

Well, with the exception of Gerald's Game and Dolores Claibourne. While I won't go so far as to say they sucked, I don't exactly hold them in the same regard as, say, Pet Semetary (which popped my stephen king cherry back in '94), or Langoliers (a short story from "four past midnight").
The former was the first book to successfully scare the shit out of me, and the latter was the first to make me stop reading before I went to bed for the longest time.

To say Stephen King has been an inspiration in my life would be a maaaaaaaaaaaajor understatement of the grandest kind. I know I'll never reach the heights of Mr. King, but if I could get just one story published, just one paragraph, even, it'd quench a thirst that has long been a thorn in my literary side.