Barefoot in the heart: part 6, the blogger

I am the wordpress warrior from shoeburyness relocated by my employer to andover drive a range rover sling a boden pullover over the chip on my shoulder confidently emerging from my anonymity with the street credibility of a third class degree in psychology a first would have said I spent too much time in the library but the internet isn’t it great sets me free to grate gyrate irritate infuriate the virtual milk crate I was desperate for got a retort for every sort who think they can pull one over of course liberty is dangerous in the wrong hands so I’ll mediate any attempt to upstage me and rage has no place on my comments page because I’ll be the one to remind you of your inferiority I’m idea-rich and time-poor that’s the law of the glass floor I’ll stick another one face down when I can be arsed but no that thought’s passed there’ll be more you see I’m social but only if you’re not a bore I’ll engage if there’s something to be gained as I see no-one explained it’s all about me that’s the wonder of the world of self-publication and self-publicity I am my very own self-appointed thought leader the personification of provocation free range offender one step ahead of the agenda I have the motive and the means (the talent is in development) and when my weekend stewing bursts forth on a monday feel free to offer an RT but don’t expect the humility of appreciation because I have given you a whole commute full of inspiration and for that you should be thanking me it’s simple it really is its all bullshite we’re setting the stale old barricades of complacency alight tearing at the stonecold heart of the leviathan I am the germfree libertarian the post-new-age aquarian the meritocratic egalitarian free market communitarian the weekend vegetarian as long as I’m cabled and wifi enabled I won’t be labelled and my klout score has just gone up to fifty seven but in my heart I am barefoot my revolutionary road lined with suv’s and four-beds with conservatories and at least three lavatories I sleep sound and protected my only deprivation a decent barista at the station try as I may just can’t help but be respected for taking a blade to your consensus but it ends up far more privet hedge than cutting edge with all the danger of a bonded razor like trotsky in chinos and a blazer but the further I reach into the normal distribution the more my contribution becomes an illusion the energy in the rebellion of my libertine dream just another exhausted sinew of the mainstream

 

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