The art of the run-on sentence
Lance Arthur might just be the best writer on the Internet today. I never read his old blog until he discontinued it, but managed to fall in love with what little writing I could find left on the site. When I discovered he had started a new blog, well, I was very happy. This man has perfected the art of the run-on sentence:

...really, what is wrong with me? he's just a guy, right? just a handsome, fit, beautiful, perfect, hopefully gay guy and what's the worst that could happen? say I ask him and then he says, "You know, I'd rather walk along an asphalt street and suddenly trip and develop a blood blister that swells to cover my whole foot and then becomes infected and turns into this kind of balloon filled with pus that makes me lame and wander around the city leaking blood and pus and feeling so much pain, the sharp, horrific, soul-killing pain like being eaten alive by weasels or marmosets or some other rodentia or mammel because I'm honestly not sure what a marmoset is, I'm just using it for illustrative purposes, anyway, pain, so much pain that I am blinded by it and stumble in front of an on-coming MUNI train that hits me with such force that I am projected into the bay even though, mind you, there is no MUNI line that comes close enough to the bay that this could ever actually happen except maybe the N-Judah when it's going around the Embarcadero and even then it's not actually facing the bay so the angle would have to be this weird, like, ungodly 'how the hell did that happen' sort of thing and I would have to be hit so hard that it would be cartoonish and then I was going to add a bit about sharks eating my flesh and I flounder alive with my pus-filled foot and the blood scent is attracting them but you and I both know there are no sharks in the bay but anyway that's the scenario I picture being more preferable than simply sitting across from you at some anonymous coffee place and not, of course, Starbucks, and sharing a beverage and conversation." now that might be bad.

I mean, come on, that is gold. I wish I could write like Lance Arthur.

Note: I've wanted to mention Mr. Arthur in a post for a while now, and also wanted to flaunt my new blockquote script, so I killed two birds with one stone, so to speak.