The Wonderful World of Polvorizador

Well would you look at that. It's a new year. Coincidentally it also happened to be a new year about a month and a half ago. Looks like that resolution about procrastination has been irreparably shattered already. C'est la vie. But, being that it's a new year and I've managed to stumble through the lethargic throes of early 2012 in sloth-like indolence, I suppose the annual grace period for inactivity is coming to its inevitable conclusion. And therein, as the Bard would say, lies the rub. On a nominally related tangent, Therein Lies The Rub would be an excellent name for a seedy massage parlour. #JustSaying. But, back to the point I'm still meandering towards articulating. It's a new year. Because I haven't established this yet. Being a new year, the general tradition is to make some sort of change in your habits or behaviour. Given that I'm one of that elite class of arrogant bastards who have the gall to refer to themselves as artists with inadvertent sincerity, a change in behaviour or habit inevitably impacts a parallel shift in the nature of my art. So, in a sudden submission to the ever-dreaded stranglehold of maturity, I've sold out. Given my status of literary obscurity, an irrelevance that makes Samuel Pepys look like Dan Brown, the consequences of my Faustian transaction are understandably negligible, but in my sense of self-inflation I feel they warrant explanation. I partnered with AdSense upon realizing that this blog, originally created to satisfy a mandatory component of a high school creative writing course, is now my exclusive domain, a forum in which I can now post whatever I want to. ...Which is approximately what I did prior to graduation as well, but being that this is a question of pretentious artistry, symbolism is ever-so-important. So given that I've now been handed the reins of my intellectual property, reacting with impeccably swift reflexes over a seven month span, I've decided to have a go at monetizing off what I make a habit of labeling as art. While AdSense precludes me from directly exhorting my faithful audience (of which I delude myself into assuming the existence of) to click the ads that are presently surrounding this post like an ominous mob, I presume it's within my rights to say that I wouldn't mind if you did. If not, you didn't hear it from me. And what content am I using to grease my descent into the palm of avarice? In the past this blog has been relatively dependent upon poetry riddled with the petty anguish of hormonal angst, various interludes of unadulterated wiggerism, woefully earnest social commentary and Lovecraftian horror parables. Given that I've already broken my resolution about procrastination, I suppose it's only fair that I break the resolution about varying the content I write as well. So if you've enjoyed reading about zombies, rap battles, Hindu philosophy, blatant allegories for sexual frustration, sunsets and summer nights, fragile things, my burgeoning alcoholism, empires crumbling, Atlantis rising and various other facets of a scattered psyche, I bid you to continue with my sincere gratitude. It is a new year after all.