give me head

what i mean is, i need more brain, specifically, more information connected to my brain... maybe i just need better organization and efficiency and time management... what brings this on, you might ask (and it isn't cuz i want to look up and listen to robin wright laugh while bantering with craig, though i do find her most appealing in part cuz of the fond memories of the princess bride which reamins on of my favorite films of all time, but then, of course, it was all about true love and that is my reason for living, after all)...

NOTE: this entry was relocated nhere after running away with itself in thereal where brevity is still the goal even if it turned into some form of bullsugar along the way, so if cross-over is noticed cuz you actually find time to wander through my babbles in multiple places, then thank you and at least you know, for whatever it's worth, knowing, that is... anyway, back to the ever-expanding (can we be slipping behind the candoor tonight?... omigosh, how exciting to be thankful for too) entry in progress...

yes, babble... old friend, i've missed you... wish you were here, but in your absence, i continue...

well, the point of the title is inspired or prompted or at least related to the fact that i appear to have missed out on a $229 netbook that would have been perfect timing since i am heading south for a few days in a couple of days and i would have bought it (the netbook) if they had one at the store i visited today after getting my softball pants hemmed (and while waiting for the same-day hemming, i wandered around the burlington coat factory and somehow found myself leaving with close to $500 worth of clothes that i may never wear, but maybe i will finally dress in pants and shirts {and ties?} instead of the fancy sweats i wear most of the time these days, for years, actually... yes, so i actually bought three pair of semi-dress pants and three ties and at least twice three shirts {that would be six, or a half dozen, at least, aye?} and two pair of shoes, or some sort of footwear and a jacket for cooler softball nights and a jacket for smoking, not that i smoke, but it's one of those smoking jackets you might find worn by alcoholic writers obscurely drifting through life on the left bank {of paris, of course}, which might make me cooler than i am if i wear it to the local poetry slams or something like that)...

yes, so anyway, beyond the mourning of missing the partner of my dreams who might dress me up and take me out now and then, i was saying that i was a bit perturbed that i missed this $229 netbook and every best buy in florida is sold out except one and that one is between miami and ft. lauderdale and i am going to be in ft. lauderdale friday through sunday, so i tried to order it online but the site wouldn't work for some reason and i am hoping it is cuz it only works when the store is open and not cuz of the sucky att internet connection and...

pause...

as if to prove the point, i am munching on banana nut crunch and dr pepper cherry while hearing (not necessarily listening to, mind you) wolfgang puck cooking some sort of thanksgiving foods on craig ferguson (in case you didn't know i meant him when i mentioned craig earlier) and i sat back down here cuz i suddenly left the previous paragraph due to a call from the bladder and i glanced over at the computer and said to myself... was i writing something?... an entry?... blog post?... epic prose, massive missive, or some other literary cliche?) and there you have it, whatever it is...

proving the point, no doubt...

i mean the need for more brain cells or at least better connectivity, organization, efficiency, time management, or something like that... back in the day, when yesterday was young and i had lots of fans who eagerly awaited word-filled paper from me in their mailboxes (before the death of snail mail, and in so many ways it has died, for me, at least), this sort of disjointed babbling was received quite well by the looney toons who read me back then... but i wonder how much actual communicating was/is going on... and i wonder how much entertainment value there was/is and is/was worth the time...

anyway, i munch away at my banana nut crunch and ponder how to pick up that netbook and realize the only reason i want the netbook is cuz of the writing jones that has, in many ways, dominated this life and me and in other ways, interfered with relationships that might have been and created relationships that may not have been and even may have saved relationships if i would have indulged the jones a bit more at critical times, but then, who knows what might have been and whatever will be will be, so why bother...

what?...

yes, this is the point where i realized and acknowledged, or at least acknowledged that this is a babbling entry that belongs in the babbling place that was not supposed to be RealTime (poor RealTime, you were a good idea while you lasted), but became RealTime (hello RealTime, love your new hair-do) cuz it was easier and faster to manuever around blogger than diaryland even in the days of crappy internet connection like these days (did i mentioned att sucks?), but before this goes on any further and turns thereal (ah, there still may be hope for you yet) into a babbling place, which was not the intention, i shall move these words and summarize somewhat, or something like that...

some what?...

i should probably cut back on the dr pepper cherry soon as the sugar hangover will not be fun and i really need to be in optimal shape come friday saturday and sunday for the softball tournament in ft lauderdale and yes, the thought of stopping by the condo to see if the old man is still alive has crossed my mind but there really will not be time for that as the team has almost every moment planned as a team, but we shall see...

and so i will put together another playlist now... starting with... lenka's the show (this could be some scary fun, aye?)...

cuz i will not quit

a bit like never give up, never surrender, i am once again inspired to babble a bit by a comment that simply suggested that i be sure to keep a copy of my writings because they are worth saving, or something like that... flattered and goofy with whatever pride my irreverent ego musters when it puffs up only to be mocked by whatever balancing facets playing inside... anyway, whether that makes sense to you or not, this is what happened when I found the comments and decided to say thank you and think about it...

wow, thank you... i wonder about your sanity, but then, all kidding aside, i know i am not the only one who finds worth in my writing... i just skip around so much i lose any audience (or, come to think of it, friends, to get profoundly ironically seriously analytical about it for a split second) i attract along the way...

i lost track of the organized chaos that was the books and files of writings i used to keep and catalog a decade or more ago (it's all toronto's fault) and kind of take the who cares attitude as in i write for the love of words, self-amusement, therapy, creative play, no reason at all, and with the hope that someone might smile or laugh or somehow otherwise benefit from reading and in a semi-self-depricating expression of depression and/or apathy due to some form of post traumatic stress or stupid poor-me thoughts and if anyone cares to save anything i write, yay, but i'll just leave it to the fates to decide if anything i write is put into a secure form for sharing in future times which is the long rather odd way of saying who cares, ironically...

thank you for caring, seriously :)

i hope to find the time to find the way to download everything i've uploaded, comments and all, everywhere, someday... soon would be good, but i'm hooked into this ridiculously time-sucking life these days cuz i have no backup at work and there's more work than can be done in an eight hour day every day and often on weekends too so when i take time off i just fall behind and have to skip over some work that really ought to be done but there's just not enough time and so...

tomorrow morning i am going to try to wake early to get to the brakes place (car) cuz i heard a sound that tells me to check the brakes and i'll bring my laptop to work while i wait and hopefully i will get to work before my 10am meeting cuz if i don't it usually makes more work for me catching up later...

on august 27th i went month-to-month in this apartment cuz i want to move out and so i pay an extra $150 or so each month and the time to find another place and move out has not happened which is a waste of money and there's one more example of how little time i have for anything...

heck, to wander off into another example of how little time i have for personal life stuff i just dumped a ton of food (ok, not a ton, but at least a hundred dollars worth) that i bought and put in the fridge cuz i was bound and determined to cook some healthy food in the house but i didn't motivate myself to make the time to put the energy into cutting and preparing and mixing and cooking (which means lots of cleaning too) in the last few weeks and the expiration date was well past and the veggies had fuzzy mold growing on them so out to the trash they went today...

still, i find time to write cuz it helps me take stock and re-evaluate myself and decisions and everything so i can see more clearly and make changes if i really want to and hopefully this conversation you've inspired me to have with myself and you is a step toward cleaning up and changing habits and fixing stuff and finding a place and stop wasting the month and so on and so forth and ultimately, stop singing i still haven't found what i'm looking for cuz i'll have attracted it to me by living the life that attracts it and oooo, isn't that all zen and new age or something, but i rest and write when stores/apartments are closed and the brain/body should be sleeping cuz writing keeps the brain company and happy and less lonely and stimulated and active and amused and hopefully still ready to share when someone comes along in real life to share and be my best friend and fall in love and live happilly ever after and it is worth it even if i am aging faster cuz the body is craving sleep and buggers fall out of my nose or an ear falls off...

ummmm, yeah, amusing myself with titilating truth and seriousness stretched into a run on sentence that might distract some but they are those who do not care enough so they don't matter and those who do care and matter will follow along even if it is not easy but that's what friends do, hang in when it is not easy so maybe every babbling personal confession is really a test of caring and friendship and interest and loyalty and so on, that ends in irreverent absurdity or at least, as monty python would say, something completely different...

i completely mostly almost believe that at least some of my babble is not only not worth saving, but not even worth reading cuz nobody is perfect, after all, but since anything is possible, the few who find me irresistibly delicious at every turn of the page may be right and just in case they are, i love them anyway...

i lost words back in the 90's when i was still almost trying to keep track and save and wrote rants to disney and lycos and anyone else involved in the removal of pages they said were for life (those words were in their member agreement before they removed their member agreement from the web)... those rants are still up on the web on my original website, come to think of it...

yeah, so i am setting myself up for a profoundly killer loss once again, like the family who left her father's ashes in an urn in a bag in plain sight on the seat of their car parked in an urban area as if nobody would break into a car and steal an expensive looking urn and bag left in plain sight on the seat, but that's another story and that does seem to be at least one of the main themes in the story of this life i somewhat loosely call mine cuz i'm trippy life, not the urn, but that and i am ever waiting for the one who will come along and save me somehow from obscurity and loneliness and self-destruction (though i've gone quite light, relatively living/speaking, on the self-destruction since around the time john lennon was shot or harry chapin rode off to wherever in hid detroit casket, which ironically was an obscure poem he wrote, but nobody's perfect no matter what the one might say) cuz i am (all together now) a hopelessly hopeful romantic and la la la...

i do try to remember to cut and paste any words into a word or text file before uploading when i forget that i should never type words directly into an open website text box cuz you never know when the connection could be broken or an errant keystroke could erase the words in any number of ways or the site could crash or freeeze or hang or otherwise not word which is kind of like leaving the urn in plain sight in the car, only these words are not my father's ashes, after all...

i am probably terrible for using the tragedy that family mostly brought on themselves to irreverently amuse myself in babbling associations and references and metaphors or similes or analogies or parables or some sort of writing technique but i mean no harm and if we can't laugh at everything then we create our own hell so i hope everyone figures that out one day and someday they'll all understand like dan fogelberg said...

is this a comment response?... probably be a blog entry over in my diary where i dump much of my babbling that came from unplanned comments or random ramblings or some such stuff cuz the diary people deserve to be remembered and some are even entertained by this sort of word dance and if my inspirations lately are coming mostly from pondering in comments then that's where the babbling flows and the secret to continuing it going with the flow...

used to be a time
when i fell into rhyme
as easily as stephen king
falls into his horror thing
wasn't something thought of hard
was more like flipping a card
letting words connect at will
free associate a thrill
if just to amuse myself
all these words fall on my shelf
lately though there isn't time
to fall or dance into rhyme
missing myself, sweet sumlime
somehow it feels like a crime

so anyway, that's the way it is these days, words come and go when i steal moments from sleep and daily chores and other life stuff, when a few words on the web or on tv or in a song or film or show or something someone said or some thought flashes through the mind inspires the flow like this or like that (sometimes like the cat in the hat cuz even when i try not to rhyme, it is just my way, it's no use, hey what can i say, i grew up on seuss) and i appreciate the appreciation you gave me cuz this is the simple stuff that's gonna save me...

almost scratching out the word...

awwww, if only there was time :)

the entry after this entry is the comment response to the comments left for this entry which was first uploaded elsewhere in ethereal and here we repeat it just in case you were curious about what inspired the next entry (if you are, like me, insatiably curious and click on previous and next and all there is time to click on to know what is going on or who is the person and why is the writing and from whence it all came... or something like that...

anyway, now, this was that then...

well, there's the original babbling that i've done ever since i could hold a crayon and scribble words on paper eventually called the written gardens that finally found some public viewing on my website (99.9% words cuz i don't take the time to learn the visual presentation stuff) and then the diaries, journals, and blogs and more blogs started proliferating on the web about twelve years ago and the progression from personal babbling to keep in touch (kit) to the thousands of pages on the first online journal through live journal and early diary land days (or nights, to be more accurate) to the blog spot times that bring us to the present (and so many others still active tangentially growing off the tree of madness that is the writing jones i enjoy so much), this has been a long strange trip and a long and winding road and much fun...

looking back (and around) i realize that i must find time to set up an ftp program and download all of my pages and update most entry pages as they are quite out of date (a few years for some)... but that will takes days, maybe weeks, and there is no such time in this life these days so everything i've ever posted on the net could just disappear one day and much of the babbling and rhymes are not saved anywhere... though there is always the wayback machine that has surprised me with blasts from the past at times, but anyway, this is an aside more to myself than to you even though it does provide you with some useless knowledge and therein ought to qualify as rambling, if not babbling, aye?...

and in the last week or few, after a pause during the summer of this year, it appears that i am feeling the babbler demanding time enough to overcome the demand for sleep (which is usually the case) and all-nighters are brewing and well, i guess the answer to the title question after all that introductory linkage is, hmmmmm, it's a possibility or even, hmmmmm, could be... cuz babbling is much like cartoons and as i believe the immortal words of one of the royal family of toons, bugs, said so well and we all know anything is possible in cartoons...

nyuk, nyuk, narf...

and incomplete thoughts

more often than not, we wonder what is real? (or brilliance, for that matter?)... as the babble flows or as the life occurs within and around us... but i won't speak for you so much as i speak for humanity and then, that's folly as i may not even know myself, hence the question what is real? as if spelling out the obvious makes it more real or somehow brings clarity of sort to the obscurity that is like abstract art painted on the ether of time and space (and, of late, the internet)...

take the previous entry, for instance, as blasts from the past emerge from new reflections of history to open doors and clear paths i have no time to travel down (or up, for that matter), yet i somehow scratch out just enough on sign posts to point me in the direction i might wander if i recall where i was at the time when i might once again have the time to wonder...

or for that matter, the entry prior to that in which i dedicate a moment to the jester of late night television who reminds me of me enough to enjoy the reflections of his rather zig-zaggy mind and the hope rises again that someone might actually like me enough to hang close in real life cuz, after all, he has a large enough fan base to be on for almost a thousand shows and is married as well, for whatever that means...

and another night i crash at around the 8pm hour only to wake again with head racing with blood and thoughts at about the 11pm hour (but where is the four hour rem cycle, i wonder?... condensed or skipped or broken, and is that the frontal lobe pressure i feel?) to move from big green chair to bed only to lay in bed lay in the dark listening to the sounds of the night that call out to me to return to the big green chair and the laptop to write such nonsense as this...

dare i seek the inspirations of audio video again and ride the wave of creative play that might bring and in turn, put off for another night the precious sleep so required for health on every level and therein risk the stroke i expect will end the babbling for this life somday (unless the heart gives out first) or is this stepping too deeply into the visceral underbody of thereal with or without the benefits of linkage maps or sky charts or things that go rhyme in the night...

and if that was a question, is the answer blowing in the wind or waiting for someone outside of my head to care to ask to arrive to share to reflect to be real in the flesh and blood touch-sense of the here and now in which i breath as opposed to here and now in which i write (or you read, for that time and space and matter)...

or is it the hot sticky air due to turning off the air-conditioner unintentionally because it froze up once again and i have not had time to arrange for the maintenance people to come by to fix it because i have not had time to pick up behind myself or tidy this place in weeks and the surface reflection of clutter and disarray is not where i want anyone to wander unless i am present that raises the body temperature and increases the cranial pressure and brings me back to the babbling place once again...

or a combo platter if not all of the above...

and then there was this:

is thinking, "the frivolous jealousy of your unrequited love has lead to an absurd rebounding joke." © will get back w/everyone
karen

that was read on someone myspace page and i wonder who now as i did not paste that quote next to a specific link and the browsers required a shut down thanks to the windows inefficient memory drains so connections may be lost for the moment... or not, as i was wise enough to send a message and still curious, i checked myspace and the kind heart that she must have relieved my curiosity enough to respond (so i give her credit for the intriguingly inspiring words) and now i wonder even more if what those words meant to her is/was anything near what those words seem to mean to me and yet, i see so many other meanings and levels and layers as well...

anyway, for what it's worth, this came out in response:

tell me more please? :)

I mean, what does it mean, cuz it means something to me at a level deeply stirring my subconscious as if it was meant to be said to me as some sort of important reminder to stop making a mockery of my deepest dreams (and somehow the song once in love with amy plays in the background of my mind adding a deeper association) and myself and to start living and actualizing the dream...

or something like that :)

i wonder now, to myself mostly (cuz, after all, you are a stranger who might not care to be a friend or want to know me at all and may even find annoyance in my babbling and if that is the case i will stop as soon as you let me know my messages are not welcome in your mailbox, but thank you just the same for the thoughts and inspirations your few words provided and i haven't even touched on the thank yous hat you deserve for the rest of the stimuli that fills your myspace page {especially the sci-fi stuff as i too travel far from this planet in my mind and, to take it a step further, firmly believe that my psyche does not belong and is not from this planet or the human species, but then, that could be viewed as a psychiatric disorder so let's laugh and leave the world to wonder if i am serious or just irreverently pondering the number 42 with douglas adams and dr. who somewhere out there} cuz it's kind of like an audio-visual candy store for me), who are you?...

i babble, irreverently, but i live by my ideal which is honesty without harm and i intend no offense as i freely allow my brain to wander in words here (there, or anywhere)... i love it when someone appreciates words, or me, and tries to know or understand me, but some love it, some hate it, some ignore it, do, as wesley once said, as you wish...

perhaps it's time to sing groucho marx hello, i must be going... in any case, for the time you spend creating your page, you are much appreciated, for whatever that might be worth to you... i shall, as i quote your words in my babbles, give you credit and a link (see, i won't steal cuz you said no) as i explore the inspirations you provide... and while i sometimes disappear from myspace for weeks or longer, i will do my best to respond to you, should you wish a conversation to continue, somehow, someway, somewhere...

i hope you make today/tonight wonderful :)

ric
(my email)
407-325-1482

so there i am doing my introduction thing in my weird way... spontaneous outpouring of everything in my head usually puts people off, but perhaps karen really means it when she says she'd like a real life dr. who to take her off this rock and might not be put off by my mental wanderings...

how about you? :)

of course, if you've been following my babble for a while, especially the few of you who trail back to the diaryland days of planet candora and the rest, might see or sense the deeper memories and meanings i might see in the few words quoted above and if i had time i'd wander deeper tonight, but alas, the good news is i remembered to return to the thought stream and remembered where the spark was ignited and reinforced the connection right here so perhaps i shall return again and build on whatever might come of this...

ever so appropriate title, no doubt, aye? :)

almost browsing, almost sleeping, almost dreaming

i haven't been recording web browsing the way i once planned and even though i spent a tiny fraction of my time browsing these days, i was intending to post an entry a week containing web wandering once again... but somehow i didn't follow through partly because i got wrapped up in the catch up but primarily because i have not had time to browse or copy and paste web addresses and create links and all that...

tonight, i fell asleep after getting home from the double header (we won both, 5-0 and 19-0, two shut outs, and we are in first place (tied, but we beat the team we are tied with) and woke four or so hours later and went to bed, but sleep wasn't coming so i came back here and clicked on my playlist to listen to music (instead of watching tv) and decided to check mail which lead to meetup where i spent a little time for the first time in months and added new friends and left a couple of comments (greetings) and that lead to facebook and myspace and other places and that lead to an old long time favorite who reminded me of how much i love words and sharing and the dream of actually connecting with someone for real and all that mushy stuff (and the music was right on time to help) and these are the people on the web that inspired me to remember to record my web browsing tonight...

chaya jere aracelis pets party urbantenant

and the last one inspired me to pause the music and listen/watch for the past hour and while i have very mixed feelings about the responsibility for and response to the 9/11 tragedies, the perspective from these videos was so much better than the news media and somewhat interesting and the retrospective kept me awake pondering the stupidity of humanity...


what would you do if i could not walk?
would you still want to be with me?
what would you do if i could not talk?
would you still be able to hear me?
what would you do if i could not see?
would you still want me to feel you?
what would you do if i grew old and frail?
would you still want to be by my side?

look into my eyes, what do you see?
what really attracted you to me?
what would you do if it was all gone?
would there be any love to carry on?

where is the unconditional love
is it only in dreams?
is it just me or have you found
love is seldom as it seems
where is the unconditional trust?
is it just fantasy?
is it just me or have you found
trust is an impossibility...

for rarely is it tested
often it's a mistake
it lives so well in dreams
but dies when we're awake
so rarely is it lasting
unless it is faked
have you ever met a promise
that did not break?

look into my eyes, what do you see?
what really attracted you to me?
what would you do if it was all gone?
would there be any love to carry on?

where is the unconditional?...



almost listening Alice Peacock's I'll Start With Me and watching the one and only zoeraster what?

Dance Band on the Titanic...

impromptu ode to craig ferguson

i wonder some nights if craig ferguson a genius or just presenting words others write so well that it seems like he's rambling on with no script or cue cards or whatever as if his mind is so amused by mostly everything that he can present everything irreverently with a serious smile cuz there's sometimes a quite serious point mixed in the random thoughts kind of like the way i perceive everything and do i do something similar here and if i do, am i writing his script and do you wonder some nights if i am a genius or just presenting words others say so well that it seems like i'm rambling on with no script or cue cards or whatever as if my mind is so amused by mostly everything that i can represent everything irreverently with a serious smile cuz there's sometimes a quite serious point mixed in the random thoughts kind of like the way craid ferguson appeasrs to perceive everything and i wonder some nights if he is a genius or just presenting words others write so well that it seems...


i love it when my head spins like that :)

so, my fellow americans, have you drained your septic tanks lately?... it is essential that you do, you know, for there is no end to the product of your ends and it is unhealthy to keep your products around too close for too long

and then there are all those double entendres... who writes this stuff, anyway?... maybe the internet knows... of course it does and this is what it told me about the people who help make craig so smart and clever and amusing:

Series Directed by
Brian McAloon (450 episodes, 2005-2009)
Joseph D. Reitman (13 episodes, 2008)
Patricia Chica (2 episodes, 2006)

Series Writing credits
Joe Strazzullo (841 episodes, 2005-2009)
Craig Ferguson (832 episodes, 2005-2009)
Philip McGrade (718 episodes, 2005-2009)
Ted Mulkerin (692 episodes, 2005-2009)
Jonathan Morano (636 episodes, 2005-2009)
Joe O'Brien (519 episodes, 2006-2009)
David Harte (433 episodes, 2006-2009)
Ben Stout (433 episodes, 2006-2009)
Tom Straw (433 episodes, 2006-2009)
Joe Reynolds (430 episodes, 2006-2008)
Ned Rice (388 episodes, 2005-2006)
John T. Reynolds (377 episodes, 2005-2009)
Randy Kagan (340 episodes, 2007-2008)
David Nickoll (304 episodes, 2005-2007)
Mike Armstrong (204 episodes, 2005-2006)
Ross Abrash (140 episodes, 2005)
Peter Charkalis (140 episodes, 2005)
Chris DeLuca (140 episodes, 2005)
Hugh Fink (140 episodes, 2005)
Kip Madsen (140 episodes, 2005)
Julius Sharpe (140 episodes, 2005)
Jeff Martin (90 episodes, 2006-2007)
Michael Rowe (61 episodes, 2005-2006)
Laurie Kilmartin (57 episodes, 2005)
Todd Yasui (54 episodes, 2005)
Lynn Ferguson (3 episodes, 2009)

ok, so i want to meet this joe strombolli too and the others, yes, these people are very fun to listen to and lucky to have a front face presenter like craig to give their words the flavor they deserve, i say... so that's the way it is in the early middle of the night... and now, an ode to craig ferguson, genius (the show biz)...

craig is so funny
he must make money
just talking, just walking
up on the stage

craig is so silly
i wonder, will he
talk to me, walk with me
give me a page

in his next book
i would like to explore his mind
do more than look
cuz if you just see you are blind

craig is so witty
blows up the kitty
just laughing, and gaffing
on the tv

craig is a genius
that rhymes with penis
laugh with me, gaff with me
obviously

on his next show
i would like to amuse him too
we can let go
cuz the is what geniuses do

and if we went way over your heads
that is alright cuz the truth is
most of you are fast asleep in your beds
while geniuses make the show biz

you may find all this confusing
but we find everything amusing
cuz irreverence is the new sanity
even if you do not agree with me

craig is a fruit cake
in letterman's wake
just staring, appearing
to be loose and unscripted

craig is so brilliant
humor's resilient
we just stare, at him there
cuz he is so gifted

and his next line
i wish i could play a part with him
a friend of mine
making it all seem like just a whim

and if we seem to be over your heads
that is alright cuz truth is
most of you are fast asleep in your beds
while geniuses make the show biz

and now, well, i'm not sure what else to say
maybe he'll write an end to this someday
. . .



so before you cross the street boys and girls, remember to look both ways... with your eyes open... and when you dance, leave your mind behind...

nite nite :)

commenting again

a new comment conversation or sorts is opening up with someone who may or may not be someone i know because he or she is remaining anonymous for now and that always leads me to ponder the possibilities like could it be someone i once slept with or lovbed or knew or an old friend who doesn't know who i am or who doesn'/t want me to know who they are for some reason and that leads to the mystery cells in my brain churning up all sorts of stories from silly to sad to haunting stalking nightmares that end up making me laugh cuz i don't take anything all that seriously, especially not fear or the unknown (cuz i love the unknown almost as much as i love the finding out, the discovering, and the learning and that's what i love the most, the knowing, but there can be no knowing without learning, discovering, and finding out and there can be no learning, discovering, or finding out without the unknown so you see, everything depends on the unknown which is why i welcome it and dive in so readily) and i love puzzles and problem solving and so on cuz it inspires me to think and ponder and babble and you must know by now how much i love babbling, so...

this is the latest comment response a comment inspired (first, the comment... no wait, first the entry that inspired the comment):

what yankees?

somewhere in the background the new york yankees are bearing down on their twenty sixth or twenty seventh world series championship in the past ninety years or so which quite phenomenal from a statistical probability (or improbability) perspective and i woke from a typically brief after dinner nap to find myself thirsty with no liquid other than tap water and prune juice in the place... iced tap water it is, then, just as soon as i motivate this body to get out of the big green chair and get the liquid libation that the mouth is starting to crave...

the bloated blues still play (or is that plays... tenses and verb agreements can be such fickle follies) somewhere in the background of my mind, but mostly the silliness prevails, as usual, as the child inside remains incorrigibly blissful cuz life is fun with a hopelessly hopeful romantic heart and an insatiably playful imagination and a whatever else is inside that laughs at everything, eventually... usually sooner than later...

maybe i'm amazed :)

and then, there came this comment:

It is no statistical anomaly. The Yankees get better hands because they are dealt more cards. The deck is stacked. It is not a fair game. Don't get me started..

it was the third in a series of comments from this anonymous person and amused me enough to stay up even later than usual and this is what came out:

oh no, there we were falling in love only to find out you're a boston fan... that's my absurd humor for many reasons that you probably have to know me to understand, but it's never stopped me before, so i'll just continue with thoughts i find amusing and hope you or somebody does too...

luckily, i'm not hard core new yorker or yankee fan so i won't go bringing up the name buckner (the joke is i just did, see, obvious understated humor, that's amusing to me)... i admit though, there is something about spending childhood in new york that separates most of those who did from just about everybody else no matter how much one tries to blend in, fit in, or be part of the rest of the world... and i have tried, sincerely, failing miserably with a sob...

self-mockery is another humor i find amusing, especially when there is serious truth in the self-mockery... am i introducing myself as i attempt to communicate?... perhaps that is why i am alone, who wants a narrated life partner, aye?...

well the yankees may not be an anomaly, but this sure feels like one... receiving comments, that is... and actually attempting communication of sorts through comments... i so do not have time for timely communication, but here we are, me giving up sleep to respond in my own sideways (aka warped) way to your comment and you doing something precious to me that has become so rare of late that i've forgotten how to react so i sit here in a semi-stupor with a big grin tapping keys inspired by your words...

i enjoy watching sports sometimes, but i enjoy playing sports much more... as for any specific teams, as a once upon a time new yorker, i smile when new york teams win, but i also smile when a lot of other teams win cuz i enjoy players and don't do much blind devotion to anything... so i want brett farve to win in minnesota just cuz he's an old guy doing what he loves no matter what anybody says and that's the kind of person i root for in sport and in life... i also admire amazing consistency and longevity... mariano rivera, for instance... i thought he might have been faultering past his peak back when he blew the world series against the diamondbacks all those years ago and here he is again nearly perfect... i admire the dedication it takes to be that good for that long... i was amazed by michael jordan when he played and wanted chicago to win... tiger woods is almost amazing... if he keeps it up anothe ten years, he'll be there with the others... there's probably a lot of people so dedicated i don't know about too... anyway, that's my take on sports... the yankees did buy their championships because they cornered one of the biggest markets, but the giants, dodgers, mets, and a dozen teams in other sports have the same market to play for and nobody in any sport has done what the yankee management has done for almost a full century... that's not just getting the breaks of being in the market, that's doing the right things to continually win over the market and investing back in the market well... la, chicago, other places have as many, if not more people, but only the yankees have done what they've done... unfair?... in many ways, yes... teams from smaller markets definitely have a disadvantage and that is not fair, but comparing the other major teams that have had the same or similar opportunities along the way and nobody else did it... i don't know if that makes sense outside of my head, but it makes sense inside my head...

i miss the baseball i grew up with... the game played for the love of the game, not for the money... maybe i was naive, maybe it was always about the money, but curt flood opened pandora's box and it's really never been the same since... so i play softball and love the game and tv sports sometimes plays in the background when i am home or in a sports bar, but rarely does it keep my attention for long...

go ahead, get started if you'll smile at the end of the day cuz that's what matters most, from my perspective at least, making yourself happy while doing as little harm as possible...

i mean no harm and don't take much seriously enough for it to hurt if a misunderstanding happens... life is much more fun and rewarding this way...

thanks for stopping by and inspiring me to ramble on like this... hope you don't mind and even more, i hope you found somethinhg worthwhile in reading... maybe even amusement :)

so if you are even half as amused as i was and am, then you are quite amused and enjoying the heck out of life and yourself and the words and for that, i say yay and appreciate you much and am happy for us both...

cuz this is what the night is for when there's no love-making to share, ya know?... well, you oughta know, anyway...

cha cha cha :)

SISS

i thought i uploaded this and might have, somewhere, maybe even here, some time before now, but i do it again if i did it before and if i didn't well, this is one of the ramblings found in the notpad scribble files...

sarcastic irreverent seriousness syndrome is in effect...

(SISS)

meanwhile, as the disclaimer says, The Superficial is a celebrity gossip site which publishes rumors and conjecture in addition to accurately reported facts. Information on this site may or may not be true and The Superficial makes no warranty as to the validity of any claims.

but they so lured me there with photos of jessica alba's beautiful bottom which ranks right up there with pheobe cates' for bottom lovers... yes, pure purile interests do still reside in the brain between the ears attacvhed to the head above the body i very loosely call mine...

just like the state of Maine voting for legalizing marijuana and againsdt gay marriage... homophobia lives even where pot is ok... humans are ridiculous... i support the gay right to choose cuz it's right, even though personally i'll take jessica's over any guy's butt...

what?... cat's got your tongue?... what's purile mean, anyway?... you don't know what's wrong?... well, when was the last time you masturbated?... that might be it...

anyway, with all of the links i've forgotten to include here, i could spend days exploring the web from right here on one of my own pages like this one or right over there on the right sidebar right here in realtime, after all... and what do i need?... days?... weeks, at least... after catching up on sleep (still hope to do that before this body dies, but then, i am a dreamer lost in a world of my own creation, a world woven of links, after all... narf)...

isn't that special...

somewhere i wrote:

what came first, actually, was the road...

not that i came up with the answer to the question which came first, the chicken or the egg?, nor did i find the answer to the question why did the chicken cross the road?, but i can, with a modicum of certainty, conclude that the road came first*...

accepting the road as the path travelled, any path, that is, and further accepting that the road, being the path is there whether travelled or not, therefore, reasoning deductively, the road came first cuz it was there all along...

revelations come like that, suddenly with no apparent connection to anything, perhaps not even making any sense outside of the mind that declares the thought a revelation, but still with the certainty and clarity that rises above the assurances and understanding of the previous moment...

so it was when i first decided that Mathew 20:16 should be on one of my multitude of irreverently serious t-shirts that pretend to be random and relatively meaningless while actually presenting a acutely profound and carefully intended message...

of course i'll never confirm or deny the truth or pretense in the previous declaration, but it is there for posterity to ponder amidst the preponderence of evidence to and fro the contrary... hmmmm, fro the contrary, now that's a t-shirt statement that raises an eyebrow, at least at the moment...

not as if you want to be with me or anything, aye?...

so anyway, the power of words, from the poet poe's poe-ish poem of the same refrain or the irraceable house's epic ode to conformity and misery (the two tenets of the human condition) which was so wrong about halfway through on so many levels that it almost irritated me mostly because i like the show (mostly because i love problem solving, medicine, and the possibility that humans could not possibly understand me if they were given the opportunity), but also because it does not make logicaly psychiatric sense all the way through and because the actor chosen to be house's doctor is the same actor who plays an incompetently selfish power-hungry psychiatrist on another show, so that taints his ability to convince me to trust him and if you do not trust your doctor, or wait, that is the point he is trying to make and it is possible that the flaw is in the writers who created the shallowness of the other character that influences my accepting him as an actor in a different role in this other television show but, omigosh go figure, it's fiction, isn't it?...

the power of words?...

yes, so, we might as well accept the fates and fortunes of random commercials on between fictitious tv shows being messages from god or whatever powers might be beyond our daily consciousnesses in this life, or the sensibility of a small green gecko as the most likely character to present us with good advice when presented with his boss or colleague's absence of intelligence as evidence that we should trust the company, which is some sort of oxymoron, or at least a contradictory conceptual presentation, perhaps...

but what was the point, the chicken?... the road?... the egg?... Mathew 20:16?... an idea?... what if i said...

i'll be last.

probably recycled babble

yes, this is another of those entries that celebrate the awkward pause, or recycled babble, whichever comes first... with or without masturbatory fantasies, as you wish... cuz the film V is a favorite for it's theme and not just cuz natalie portman dresses up as a little girl to stimulate the pedophiles inside everyone, right?...

well, now that i've offended half the world and enraged the other half, let's get on with the rest of this entry that most of you will never read, even if you did stop nby here to see what the hell was going on...

somewhere it was written:

everything in this world is so skewed by human judgments, by preconceptions of right and wrong, how can anyone have a clearly objective perspective or understanding of anything?...

so do i choose to be alone, intimately, not trusting unconditionally, intimately, because i do not trust others because everything in this world is so skewed by human judgments, by preconceptions of right and wrong, logic suggest that no one could have a clearly objective perspective or understanding of anything and without that, no one's judgment can be trusted, which is the basis for most, if not all, decision and actions, so no one's actions can be trusted, so no one can be trusted...

so the question for me, or anyone accepting the above logic as true, is how to get past this obvious logic to actually attempt to physically trust another human enough to actually develop an intimate physical relationship beyond momentary sexual contact...

i believed i found the answer a few times, but being alone again might point to an error in that belief as the relationships did not continue...

chocolate thoughts are not always fun, aye?...


somewhere lost in though, this thought surfaces: be trusted...


and then, from out of left field (or the boob toob), i think... wow, i wonder if the obvious difference in how david letterman approaches and interacts with little girls and little boys would have been as noticeable on his 2009 halloween bit if his apparent history of womanizing was not recently exposed... the kids appeared uncomfortable either with being on stage or with dave or both... but it was his flirtatious language and extended conversations with the little girls and brevity with the little boys that stood out from my perspective... his launguage was almost creepy and pretty manipulative, in fact, and definitely different for each gender... i find myself disappointed in him now more than i was before...

but you see what really happened to bring this downbeat period (that might actually be bringing me back to the web, oddly, cuz euphoria doesn't seek nearly as much company as misery, after all...

i stopped to play a video game that helped me focus on dropping the weight i piled on during a few years of imbalanced diet and when i returned to daily blogging more than ever, i find the past month has unfocused the balance i had achieved in the diet and have regained at least ten of the almost forty pounds i lost during the two or so months of what i semi-jokingly called the video game diet...

no sexual impetus for streamlining and optimizing this body, obviously, so it's all your fault, people, for not sending a lover in the right body to inspire me to remember the sensuality more often... after all, i don't need to be optimal to masturbate, do i?...

wait, are you still here?...

embarrassing, isn't it?...

bare assing?...

narf too :)

repeated?

if this was repeated, well, just read it again or ignore it, as you wish... you might want to know that this entry contains actual curse words and adult themes and perhaps even porn, which will probably get a lot more people to visit based on this paragraph alone, if not read it...

silly humans...

in a very spontaneous moment of manic clicking on a links, a moment stolen from sleep after a good four hour block that left the body more refreshed than usual, but still tired and wanting more and the mind in a similar condition, i hear a voice talking about ass-fucking (if you are offended, i wonder if you distract yourself with rules too much to actually learn and communicate and understand and be aware of your self and life and the universe around you, but that's beside the point as is most things) over the music and browse through the open tabs in the browser that i have not explored yet to find the voice coming from this link i found in my myspace mail i pause there to a guy talking a strange form of english (using some terms in his one-sided conversations that are unique to either his site or some web communications i am not familiar with) and it appears he is streaming a video of his internet radio show though i am guessing i have to subscribe or something to actually hear the 90 or so viewers he is appearing to be talking to...

The link is to a blogtv account apparently of a reverend 8 who lists the following Personal Tags: religion God comedy variety current events youtube News blogs Discussions ghosts supernatural martial arts... and appears to have been awarded (the site does not say by who or whom, but there are some links to follow if you have the time and inclunation... i don't have the time or enough inclination at the moment) the following: #30 Most Friendliest This Week, #38 Most Friendliest This Month, #24 Most Friendliest All Time, #3 Most Subscribed This Week, #7 Most Subscribed This Month, #18 Most Subscribed All Time... there does not seem to be much point or coherence or meaning to the other than he's taking entries for something that is not explained well, but seems to be some sort of impersonation contest and i am wondering if this is some sort of pre-show time and whether the listeners are going to actually come on audio or video so the audience can actually hear or see their impersonations and what am i doing spending time trying to figure this out, anyway?...

curiosity about new technology killed the cat, or at least stole sleep from the critter and me too... anyway, you may recall how much i try to like people and internet communicators, but without the other side of the conversations this guy smoking a cigarette and cursing and belittling women and trying to come off too cool for school with the typical i don't give a fuck attitude that so many radio shock jocks and wanna-be celebrities try to sell to kids these days is not impressing me enough to want to stay with this show... maybe some of his recorded shows are worth the time, but he's not impressed me enough to explore more at the moment...

so i close that site and head back to where the browsing started (across dozens of sites yet unexplored and some that may not be) to find an old friend (through reading words on the net, though words can bring the feeling of knowing someone so much better, more intimately, as if... could he/she be someone long lost from my past?... and the chills roll as i read the words

i think of web pages as sign posts, markers along the path of life... this is why i delete none, for the simple word i leave up on some obscure page that i may have long forgotten might be found by the person who turns out to be the most important person in this life for me and if i deleted that page, those words, that image or whatever was out here on the web, i might have missed the best moment of this life... every time i think about deleting something i put up on the web, this last thought keeps my finger off the delete key... food for thought for those who want to keep in touch :)

if only there was time...

wishing you were somehow here again, wishing i still had the time, wishing there was time to feel again, wishing there was time for rhyme...

head laid here

wherever i lay my head
is the place i call my bed
been so long since my homestead
wherever i lay my head
is the place i call my bed
rosebud was more than a sled
wherever i lay my head
is the place i call my bed
forgot everything i ever said
wherever i lay my head


themes run through the blogs like blood through viens and every now and then, as you who've been around these babbles a long time know, we get a bleeder (analogy for the babbler hitting stride and thousands of words later, icing the cake with a multitude of mixed metaphors, at least...

unfortunately, there's no time for thousands of words tonight, as usual, for i must sleep a bit so i can crunch numbers and create reports tomorrow if there's no major investigation to distract me from the data analysis and reporting i must get done before thursday cuz that's the job, among other things...

it's been a long time since i had the time to spend time taking the time to run on and on rambling through time babbling all the time the way i used to (all together now) once upon a time... even more timely, it's been even longer (in terms of time) since i've had the time to give the time to time travellers timing their time through this babbling place (and time) to find the wonders of madness and profoundness and folly and wisdom(ness?) and the answers to the questions nobody ever asks and the lasting meaningfulness of the questions everybody wants to ask (but just don't have the time) like just who is florence and the machine, anyway?...

so, just for you, i drank two cans of coke and two cans of brisk (iced tea) and wonder, along with letterman (cuz craig isn't on until later) just whop needs two cases of philly cream cheese, anyway?... and of course we all jump up as one to scream (for the cream, after all), i do, i do... cream cheese lovers of the world, unite, which of course means the yankees must win the world series because we want the cheese... creamed, of course...

and what's the deal with windows 7, cha... they've slapped it on the new netbooks (which doubled in price since release, demonstrating that greed continues to dominate the american way, along with microsoft's industry leading greedful charging extra for windows xp, an operating system they no longer support and intend to completely abandon in a year or two, therein abandoning their monopolized customers even more than they have already... trust them, sure, the american way has a worm in it... a lot of worms, actually... and the true anti-americans are those who deny and hide this fact, but greed will out until the empire crumbles...

and then i think, well, what it i came back here to (where am i, anyway?... ahhh, oohhhh, wait, ooooo, for a moment there i though i was at diaryland again and just for that, i shall go there now (blink)...

wait, i meant *poof*

.

.

.

.

.

there, that's better (noting that each dot above represents at least ten minutes or more and the insanity of the obstacles at diaryland ironically brought me back here before the entry was complete over there because microsoft sucks, again, as vista is pissing all over the fun computers can be and this moment is no different as the cut and paste feature went away so words were lost again and i curse the fools who created the buggy software and the fools we are for supporting their ineptitude (and greed, don't forget the greed that compels them to carelessly distribute faulty products because they have a virtual monopoly and probably pay the apple corp to keep their mac high priced cuz if the mac cost the same as the pc i'd give up microsoft in an instant and so would you if you were not afraid of change and had any sense at all...

so this entry may continue in a much more positive place and time (later even), but for now, it is posted just like this, tainted with the blood straight from the microsoft daggers and pissed on too, i conclude cuz i must shut down the (microsoft sucks) browser cuz cut/copy and paste stopped working and maybe (microsoft sucks) the computer too... love you in spite of it all...

narf!

speaking of sleep...

sleep?...

to perchance?...

therefore i do what?...

meanwhile, if there was only more time in the days of this life i would visit this word-space more often for amusements appear to be appearing here right before my eyes (does that mean they exist right before my eyes or only behind my eyes is not the question, whatever it is better to be)...

personally, once fear is disemboweled, everything is amusing, musical even, in it's own way... even could be a serious thought provoked or inspired (and what is the difference, after all?... even though i almost always only answer questions i find amusing, i usually wander around and behind and about a point so much i forget whatever it might be i first started to say in my response and therin create my own questions within the word-play that forms between the ears hanging from the head in which i think i reside in some strange way (ever the understater, or understatesman, for that matter, though personally, i'd rather be understateswomen, but that's another story i've long forgotten for the moment), or so it seems after i pause to look up at the screen and see what the fingers at the end of the hands attached to the arms extending from this body i loosely call mine might have done... what?)... yes.

i think i've been dead, therefore i may have not been, but i think i am now, so am i?...

sleep?

who's in charge, anyway?

computers can be ridiculous sometimes, especially when they suddenly cannot locate paths to files that are used regularly… the paranoid can wonder if there’s a sudden virus or intrusion by some stranger invading their computer privacy identify theft and so on (aren’t buzz words amazing?) and the intellectual cynics can curse Microsoft for the faulty software they churn out that has so many routine errors that the hackers can be masked cuz who knows when it’s a bug and when it’s a cyber-rape…

and will spending money on an anti-virus internet security program help or simply further complicate (hmmmm, simply further complicate… now there’s a sweetly appropriate phrase for humanity that would have many legendary minds from freud to socrates to shakespeare to descartes laughing {that is, if they had senses of humors, or humours, after all} cuz irony is amusing when you step back and stop taking everything so seriously, at least in books like the hitchhiker’s guides, ya know?) the question (or quest for an answer, yeah, quest ion is the quest for an answer, gotta love the language, but that’s sort of beside the point, isn’t it)…

are we having fun yet?...

life is kind of like a sanitized horror movie, the clean-up crew is us, or at least those of us who chose ignorance whether through religion or propriety or just plain old ordinary mental blindness brought on by fear… how many brain cells have you turned off (or killed) today?... yeah, why get serious, it’s all just way too funny… like the news constantly reminds us, we need to be concerned, we need to fear, worry, be self-righteously upset and above all else, we need to know… the news is the best soap opera out there, for those into soap operas, that is… at least horror movies show you the guts and gore and crap… I mean, people do do actually go to the bathroom in real life, after all…

while all the boys are rushing over to thesuperficial (yes, the site is real and terribly amusing once you get past the puritan ethic and glazed over narrative quasi-worshipping {or is that whoreshipping?} the latest celeb fads to see (or get a gander of, even) hot shots of jessica alba’s butt, all the boys still awake, that is, cuz most of the world does sleep after dark, after all, but I never could imagine why when the night is the most fun part of the day, we’ll just sit here fondling our language and linguistically masturbating (what?... you don’t masturbate several times a day in a variety of ways?... what are you, strange?) in our minds… idle hands my eyes, aye?...

if there ever was a point to this entry (and you know there always was, though quite often it gets lost in all the words {doe-eyed stare,, cha know}, but rarely does the human mind follow the trains of thought rushing through the station that is a blog post, entry and exit, no doubt… track number nine and three quarters , if you please… we wouldn’t want to be accused of not being normal, after all… phoebe cates too…

stay the course, full speed ahead, and stroke, stroke, stroke…

some of the strangest entries come from allowing random images from whatever happens to be on tv at the moment I am writing (especially when randomly changing channels at random moments while tapping keys), but the internet can be even stranger as there’s less censorship and therefore, more randomness… randomness is so much fun sometimes… and strange, so very strange…

which came first, propriety or paranoia… I mean, does the obsession with being normal and right create the paranoia or does the paranoia create the obsession with being normal and right… that is the question that should have been asked, but then, it was, it just might have been too simplified for the masses in to be or not to be… to be what? after all, that is the question too… there are always questions within questions, ya know, layers of knowledge and intricacy that (wait for It, wait for it) simply complicates everything…

which came first, the simple or the complex… of course there are many who’d argue that the simple had to come first because the complex is built on combining simples in various orders and structures and interwoven manners until a complex is produced, but there may still be a few of the mind that the whole started first and everything came from some big bang when the whole was dispersed into an infinite number of simples, or simplers, at least… it depends on whether you see the universe from the big picture on down or from the components of the atoms on up… elementary, my dear Watson, and the ultimate difference between minds may simply be the answer to the query, but who’s in charge, anyway…

whatever you get out of it, I hope it was good :)

in what?

real time, it was real time, that's the ticket, the path, the mantra, the theme park we created and came to play in long ago or only yesterday, depending upon which real time line we compare to this moment... ah, but fools we are, we stare blankly wondering what it all means (in the myriad of moments that lead to truth if you follow far enough and can see)...

you may just find it...

once there was a way
but then they say
you can’t go home again
still

once there was a way
and who are they
forsake way back when
still

once there was a way
a song would play
and touch us deep inside
still

once there was a way
a yesterday
that can not be denied
still


and after all this time, or a moment, i still do not sleep when this body sighs with exhaustion for the moment my eyes close, knowing there’s so little time before I must spend another day at work and not have a day to myself (the selfishness of the mind is still so prevalent, at least in my mind… and I wouldn’t have it any other way because it is one of the keys, if not the key to me, the awareness and perspective and particular personality that is me and I miss me, a lot, quite often, in fact, more than anyone else, even, and I still hope I am not the only one, cha know?) and the brain starts firing chemicals back and forth between synapses and the thoughts stir the feeling and the feeling stir the thoughts and the universe spins faster and faster…

but the babbler laughs and plays this silent game, instead of rambling on and on as was so often the way in the past moments that were real time before this moment, or whenever you might be reading… and the brevity amuses me in it’s novelty, if nothing else, for it poses pondering for anyone, or at least for me, who might attempt to understand and make some sense, to seek consistency and normalcy (ah, the rebel child wins again)…

the soup is still good...

and you, dear reader, what goes on between your ears, or under them, for that matter?... how are you, where are you, who are you, what are you now, in real time? :)

political suicide

most policitions prefer not to commit political suicide, which is why it is so rare for a politicion to actually get real and speak the truth about government and business and most anything in life.... this leaves us vulnerable cuz we really don't know who to vote for based on any real knowledge, so the whole election process is a waste of time...

to that end, since i don't sleep, i found my representatives and share them with you cuz they deserve closer scrutiny by more people and you are trusted readers who can judge for yourselves and feel free to comment cuz your opinions matter to me, especially when it comes to stuff i pay little attention to, like politics...

see here:


seems pretty normal for the deep south, but take heart cuz my representative used to be semi-crazy, just look:

there are magic hours

deep within the night there is energy beyond cause or reason, beyond rhyme or explanation, beyond wonder and all that we think we know in the mortal coil of human existence and further, beyond all the flights of fancy in the stories we've read and told through the ages from hades to hogwarts, from horatio to hefner, the ones who lead humans from the traps of fear within their own minds through the myriad of confusing emotions and ignorance into evolutionary leaps of consciousness and awareness, there is magic that can only be experienced through accepting being as it is, one with the infinite eternity... and some call it faith, some blind faith, some scientific exploration, whatever the words, the true understanding is only approached with the acceptance that it is beyond words...

and we keep looking for the words to express what can not be spoken... and we keep looking for the words that can only be heard in the heart... and we keep looking for the words that will elate or repair what is broken... and we keep looking for the words that tell us how and where to start... but the answer is far beyond words whether profound prose or the sweetest rhyme... the answer is the moment of acceptance of being in all space and time...

so much more can be said if only there was time...

perhaps another time...