I still may not believe it but I deleted my Tumblr account as of yesterday. It took too much of my time for about three months. Sometimes, to admit, I’d be in it all day and the headaches would come. The only reason I started using it regularly was because I was somewhat lonely or plain bored. There were many great things in the bright beginning such as seeing beautiful images of Hedy Lamarr or funny cute GIFs. I didn’t socially interact at all…but it was a way to deal with depression. It was the social media entertaining utopia I thought I had been missing out on….That was that until people started to get on my nerves.
Some Chaplin aficionados besmirching the reputation of Pola Negri, me arguing with some teenage broads who thought they were experts on Vivien Leigh (This started because I jested about Marilyn Monroe flirting with Olivier)….Other humans posting about things I horribly dreaded….Pornography is everywhere…even if you try to avoid it by making your blog be free of explicit content. I have no problem with it…but I see no fun in it. For example, on my dashboard once, there was some broad getting penetration in her rectum. What quite bothered me, though, were the silly fans of my favorite band that claimed to be “addicts” and “so-totally goth” or “Elvira wannabes”. Yeah, that site gave me so much stress that I would be pissed off probably three times a week. Maybe I’m not meant for social media.
If you saw my blog there…It was full of my enamored talk of Vincent Price, many Frank Zappa songs, Pola Negri, Tom of Finland and more things like that. It was a…very bizarre blog. I’m glad I deleted it though. I got too addicted to it…The first thing that was done when I awoke was to check it…I would even dream about it. Now, I can get through my movies and progress with writing my novels. It was starting to get boring anyway…People made such a big deal about everything…Some minds are just rotting with folly.
I’m a little behind in my movie marathon because of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. The actors have great lines in that film but it is boring as hell. All they do is blabber and blabber about how irreparable their relationship is, and, again like in Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Liz Taylor fastidiously spoils the fun for the movie. I’m gonna have to sadly skip it. I’ll just listen to this memorable Doors performance to better my day: