Of course, Mine's Kind of Lame

I have been following an blog on here of someone with similar tastes, an intriguing character to say the least. I am entranced by his entries, written in a kind of abbreviation/dialect/code-word hybrid, hip and esoteric, like notes, clipped, consise. Is it poetry? I am taken by similarities---while both recount alky consumed, mine only hints at a desire and aspiration for headier, more nefarious indulgences. I can't help but notice a running shared theme, of best intentions, fuck-ups and their contrite attempts at atonement, penance and resolve, the accompanying self-loathing that follows said fuck-ups/backslides, the swearing off of sins and poisons, and an undercurrent of devious self-knowledge, that we will do it again and again.