Crow-Cat: Producer of Hapless Weblogs, Extraordinaire

Tuesday, April 24, 2001
Little piece of wisdom: This world is fucked. Admit it.
Listening to: Reilly's Daughter by Great Big Sea's previous incarnation as Rankin Street

(Oh, wait, now I'm listening to January by the Paperboys.)

Crowcat is PISSED. Yes she is. She put in a whole assload of work over the weekend to get her site updated AGAIN (it now has almost ninety percent of its intended pages! Imagine it!). She even put up her "Get Art" page, which required new graphics as well as a whole lot of brain-strain for the comissions price-list. And does anyone care? NO!

I've checked my hit-counter stats. I get about seven a day, including my own infrequent stop-bys. My site isn't too unpopular, considering it only graces about one link list just now. I'm offering art requests. I don't often do that. I'm offering art trades. I'm offering to sell my precious work for base currency. There must be SOME persecuted slobs out there who want me to scratch out their sick little clichéed brainchildren for nothing!

But I check my email infrequently, and so far I'm getting nothing. No money. No fandom. No offers of unconditional slavery from the adoring masses.

Yah, maybe I should cultivate a more lovable air? And turn myself into a clone of Kelly Hamilton? (No, I'm fooling myself. People seem to love a cultural rebel. They're all bent, but that's what they love. It's how Aerosmith managed to conquer their complete and utter lack of talent and go on to fame.

And believe me, there's nothing more pathetic than a sixty year old man in punk clothing.)

Dammit, Embershard hasn't even emailed me back to thank me for the four hours of intensive labour I put into writing this month's rant and art tutorial. (I even set the art tutorial up nice and neat on a page with perty tables and everything.) I WANT GRATITUDE, HERE!

Yes, I know I'm acting like a spoiled child here. But the POINT of a weblog is to get all your idiot and irrational thoughts out before they start terrorising the populace at large with you as their tool, right? So that's what I'm doing. IRL I'm feeling very at peace with the world, thank you. At least I will when I have it all to myself. Yes.

Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to Hell I go ... Well, in .. **Checks clock.** An hour or so, anyway.