behind the web

there is a level of immediacy and intensity beyond that which teenagers experience in ordinary circumstances in our western cultures (and perhaps in all human cultures in these times) and while most everyone seems to move toward less intensity with age (calling such immediacy and intensity drama, i find my capacity for intensity of emotion (beyond what we'd commonly call teenage angst/drama and/or critical momentary imperatives) was well beyond the norms of my peers back then and it continues to grow and that, simply and without any irreverence or avoidance playfulness, is the clearest most direct and honest explanation for why i am alone today...

meanwhile, back in the irreverent playground of my mind in which i relate to you dear folk the daily life we collectively refer to as mine (though it's been a long time since i claimed any ownership, but that's another story), continuing the journey we were on yesterday (you can join in whenever you get here), I was enjoying carla bruni immensely, or rather, i was enjoying her voice and image and music immensely (but hey, a guy has hopes and dreams, ya know?... call me carla) and easily veged here in front of the tv and computer most of the day…

but let us return to the start of the day…

the dawn breaks and somewhere in the depths of sleep in what i believed to be a dream i heard my name being called ever so faintly over and over… this went on for what seemed like hours, but probably was more like ten minutes or so, as Precious was trying to wake me in her shy and distant way by sitting across the room and focusing all of her energy on me while meekly calling my name (at least she doesn't use props or cold water or anything, but she could tap me on a polite body part, after all)… apparently her laziness wanted a ride to work and claimed she woke up late and instead of hustling out to the bus, she played poor little girl who needed a ride… Rasputin really needs to hook her up with a car, now that she can drive… anyway, my plans to sleep in and catch up on desperately needed sleep (what with the jetlag dragging me around all week) week out the window and after driving her to work and stopping for some food stuffs cuz the cupboards were getting bare-ish, i continued wandering the web exploring for music…

so today and tonight, instead of motivating myself to go out and do something (anything, even if it was not the exercise i truly require to survive and remember who i am), while the TV played college football and world series and much commercial interruptions, i discovered a site that lead to a site that had files stashed away in folders and some of those files were mp3 files, so i spent much time downloading unknown music that i shall listen to one of these days… in my journey through these off the beaten path sites, between flashing images of natalie portman's ass (which is fine by me… in fact, it would be fine if it was by me often, but that's another side of life, as the moody blues would sing, sorta… have i gushed about natalie portman lately?... i wouldn't want her to think i was not still holding her dear to my heart, after all… i mean, just in case she wants to know when she stops by to read, after all) and a video of marie osmond passing out on some dancing tv show and the usual porn found when scavenging behind the scenes web sites, I discovered a most shocking thing that z0tl knew about, but kept secret all this time (you see now why i didn't marry him)…

but wait, seriously, all irreverence aside (at least for a moment)…

i am not quite certain whether i am momentarily excited or traumatized, but i just discovered the internet archive… yes, the internet archive… apparently, while we have been uploading our private thoughts and images and stuff to the web and, when we felt like it, deleting what we no longer wanted out there, somebody, some unknown entity called the internet archive has been, now take a deep breath, archiving much of what we've put up on the web and still have the deleted pages that we thought we (or someone else, like Disney, for instance) deleted…

maybe i'll gather my wits (and the links) and put together a presentation of some sort that would tie together the web journey from the beginning that i thought was lost when the servers i had my original web pages on deleted them without warning (little did i know the internet archive had them stashed all these years)… on my first search, i found 2007 pages i thought were lost… the number is quite ironic, aye?... anyway, i saved some of them, but it'll take days, maybe weeks to save them all… and do i really want to read them again?... of course… and do i really want to link them for anyone to read?... probably, but then, wisdom suggests i read and perhaps even edit them a bit… or at least fix the HTML errors and present them in a better layout reflecting what i've learned about html since the mid-nineties when i started this web journey…

I found that a whole pile of the original journal started in order to maintain some semblance of sanity during the most challenging and depressing times i've yet to know in this life still existed on the web… i must have thought i was ever so clever back then, being deluded and suffering from a peculiar version of stockholm syndrome or some such traumatic stress disorder, after all… i did not find all of the blogs from the streets, but just the smattering i did find might be enough to induce quite awesome flashbacks and earthquakes in my otherwise stable and relatively boring current affairs…

i really would like a copy of that nude video of natalie portman though, if it is her, though publicists have clouded the issue well (so why would she be quote as being sorry she did it if it was a body double, aye?) since it was removed from youtube before i heard about it and did i just digress on to this playful (obsessive, me?... naaaaa… but i can be hopelessly devoted if she'd like) tangent without warning to avoid contemplating the past life (or lives) or for some other, perhaps more clever or more healthy reason... masturbation does get the heart pumping, after all, and it is sometimes the only exercise a sedentary couch potato might get in the course of a day, so doing it well (not that i am suggesting we turn it into an Olympic event with judging and everything) and often is recommended by any doctor worth paying… well and often, that's my prescription… but to return to the question in question posed earlier in this paragraph, we'll have to consult the doctors and the peanut gallery one of these days and for now, did you know natalie was born in jeruselum?...

heavy city, no doubt…

and by heavy i do mean critical immediate intensity… but far be it for me to suggest that i am the right guy for natalie portman (have i repeated her name enough to get google's attention?)… or emma watson, for that matter (random tangents are the most fun sometimes)… i mean, less random might have been meg ryan or mila kuniz or milla jovovich or (yeah, libido is awake too), but it is not the right time for an orgy so let us get on with this entry, shall we?...

yes, well, it is (seriously) quite startling to find writings i thought were long lost…

i can imagine it feel a bit like it will feel when i finally unpack the hundreds of scribble pads i filled with words and doodles before i started using a computer or if i can access all the computer disks in storage… or more unlikely, ii somehow stumble upon writing that were stolen back when my 4th street apartment was broken into (bohemian lower east side of nyc days, if you've seen you've seen Rent then you have some idea of what i mean)… oh, the plethora of dreams and fantasies and music and memories to be rediscovered and shared someday, somehow, somewhere (yes, West Side Story too, though i was the pacifist in my crowd)…

the most beautiful sound i ever heard…

la la la… yeah, and all that jazz… so how was your day? :)