Today, fourfour turns a year old. While I know that 365 is just another number, it seems like a good time to thank everyone who reads whatever nonsense I'm spewing about whatever piece of pop culture that's grabbing me and compelling a response at any given moment. Seriously, thank you. For so many years, I felt like I had no voice, and now I feel like I do, and it means more than I could probably express. (So I guess the moral is that I have a voice, it just isn't always reliable?)
The Internet plays tricks on the mind, so forgive me if I sound a bit deluded. I know I'm not committing acts of journalistic transubstantiation here, turning criticism into literature. But I guess that's what amazes me, that people could possibly care about what I have to say, as slight and trivial as it almost always is. fourfour is nothing more than a collection of things that amuse me, in whatever capacity and to whatever end. I see something that stirs a reasonably coherent response, I record it. This is just my media journal, presented as accessibly as possible.
To say that everything I post is soulful seems a bit faulty, though. I try to make it that way, but you know, when I'm taking screen shot after screen shot after screen shot, clicking and clicking and clicking hours away on animated gifs that will loop for mere seconds, there are times when I ask myself, "Rich, how the fuck can you possibly claim that what you're doing right now is self-expression?" I usually drop that thought pretty quickly because OMG! ROTFL! Jade is sooooooo funny!!! And also, because I really don't have an answer. Nor can I tackle a question I ask myself about this site even more frequently: "What the fuck is my point, again?" Although the fact that fourfour is the No. 1 Google hit for "too short I love getting my nuts rubbed" makes me think I might be getting closer to an answer.
Really, though, I don't mind taking my time to find my point, as you may have picked up in one of my rambling, overwritten excavations of, I don't know, Mariah Carey's career or some horror movie or, heh, ANTM. I've amassed a lot of cringe-worthy stuff over the year, stuff that would be torture for me to go back and reread (though none of the entries just mentioned make me want to throw up, thankfully). I know that I'm sometimes (often?) totally wack, that I can come across as an apologist for some rotten piece of pop culture or as a doting father who won't shut about about his fucking kid, or in my case, fucking cats. (In my defense: instead of the Ghost World screen shot that's above, I almost posted a picture of Winston wearing a hat made to look like a cake -- candles and all -- that says, "Happy Birthday." But I didn't. See? I'm learning.)
So thanks most of all for putting up with my wackness, and for making doing something that pays me pennies on the hour seem worthwhile. I don't think I've ever felt this allowed to be myself, or this encouraged to say exactly what I have to say. The acceptance is overwhelming.