It is one in the morning, and I am wide awake. The little space heater buzzes at my feet keeping my nekkid tootsies warm in the night chill. But there isn’t much action on the social sites, so I have a little time to do late night musing.
Writing at night is so different than writing in daylight. Old ghosts from the past rise up one by one in my head, then fade into the darkness as I acknowledge them. Odd how things that happened half a century ago rise up as clear as the day they occurred. But I don’t allow them to linger. Just a quick appearance, then on to the next one.
I have recently caught myself editing content that I didn’t want certain people to read lest they be offended. I am known to too many people under both of my pseudo names as well as my real life one. I think it is about time to create a new personality and drift off to a new social site.
There is an interesting ID site that gives you a basic name, address, gender and age, and I have been looking through a few of those for one that will amuse me. Rusty Armor has been my pseudo name and nom-de-plume for well over three decades now, and it is time to retire him. Rusty was actually a username given to me by Compuserve™, a now defunct internet provider. I think they still maintain a home page service and webmail accounts though.
I like Rusty better than my other personalities. He is more sure of his positions than I am, and he doesn’t bother to hide his disdain for people who are always waiving their academic credentials around like that proves they are like … uh … intellectual, or something. He also hates people who think because they hold certain political positions, that makes them more kind, caring and sharing than the rubes who believe in jeezuz. You know this because they never miss a chance to tell you how caring they are in spite of not having jeezuz, and how much more real they are than the jeezuz people.
Rusty loves scratching them until the ugly oozes out, then walks away while they are spewing their hate far and wide. Even though he is not a jeezuz person, he really hates the haters. He does have a tendency to use big words when small words would better serve the purpose, however. I don’t know why he does that. I do love words, and I can and do read dictionaries like they are novels. And Rusty seldom proofs his material, leaving the poor reader confused at the continual tense changes, dropped words, typos and misspells. And almost everyone knows his Grammer is dead and buried.
So Rusty has got to die, someday … but I am just too unwilling to pull the switch on him yet. And though he hasn’t written anything worth publishing in a long, long time now, his publisher still wants him alive, even though magazines are a dying medium. You never know when you might need a few hundred extra bucks someday, so Rusty will probably be around to pound out ten or twelve thousand words until he get too senile to write.