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Cheese: Just how it is.



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Welcome to Weirdness!

Hi, world, and welcome to “The Password’s Lasagna”!  One day I’ll share where that name came from - for now, just revel in the wonderful idioticity of the word “Lasagna”.  Say it over and over again.  Let it flip off your tongue in all its gleeful lasagnaness.  Say it until it means nothing, say it ‘til it means everything.  Lasagna.  It’s a word with many layers.  Moving on quickly now... I have to wonder if, in a year, I will regret this first post.  I’ll think “what kind of imbecilic idiot was I, to think starting a blog would be a good idea?”  As if there aren’t more constructive things to do.  Like...fishing.  Or hunter-gathering (which is the sport of gathering as many hunters as possible in one weekend and stuffing them all in the back of a closed pickup, preferably with a limb or so hanging out and dripping blood).  Or making clay...things.  Useful things.  Mugs and the like.  Or I could be chilling with friends...engaging in meaningful conversations over cups of coffee.

Cheese: My life.

Noodles: Just, noodles.

I realized on Thursday that I have no idea who I am.  It was very disconcerting, particularly as it happened moments after I’d stood up suddenly, not realizing there was a heavy plank shelf directly over my head.  It was also after two or three hours of inhaling the stale remnants of ten years of uninhibited mouse parties, and an entire bottle of environmentally caring cleaning fluid.  Anyway, this isn’t exactly humorous (unless you get a kick out of existential crises), but it made me wonder if anyone else feels the same way.  So, readers, tell me this - do you feel as if you know who you are?  Or are you just pretending to know?  Or are you, at this moment, simultaneously reading this on your phone and telling a complete stranger all the ways that you feel isolated from the rest of the human race?  Let me know.  “I” am interested in your answer.   PS Anticipating zero comments, because the majority of my readership is too intellectual to stoop to the paltry pract