I Don’t Know Anything…but neither do you

I don’t know anything.

I have a few ideas about almost everything, but I don’t know anything about anything.

That’s quite liberating, actually. Thank God that’s off my chest. I’ve spent so much time and so much energy trying to convince people that I know all this shit, when I literally don’t know Jack.

I don’t, though. I know no dudes named Jack. I might know a JackIE or two, but no Jacks. I got NO Jacks.

Two for two on the liberation scale. I feel so vulnerable and open, I might lactate.

If I say that I KNOW something, as in concrete, cold, hard fact, then I am opening myself up to disappointment, regret, and maybe the runs. Someone, in some realm of religion, science, or just plain ‘no, that’s wrong’ -itude will disprove every theory that has ever been previously proven.

Do I know this is going to happen? No. It’s just an idea. Some people might even be thinking it’s a really stupid one. Maybe you’re right. Maybe you’re wrong. I don’t know.

I do know this – wait…no, I don’t. I think this: I like things, and I have a few ideas about life in general.

SO…EFFING…DEEP. I can’t even handle it. I just changed the world. Or that might have been a diaper. I’ve done that quite a lot. If there’s anything on this planet that I KNOW how to do, it’s change a diaper.

So, this little bloggity bloggity blig blog (that will be a Kanye West song in 3….2….1….hit it, ‘Ye!) is about stuff I like, things I can do, and that’s it.

Do I know if anyone’s going to read it? Nope. And that’s just fine by me.

I think.


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