eighteen minutes is nothing

MUSIC: The The - Blue Burning Soul

a bit of shopping (as if there is no change in the monthly budget, aye?) and after spending enough for a laptop on food and bug defense stuff and computer gear (yes, i splurged on a wireless network card so when i motivate myself to drive down to the pool, or walk, though it's several buildings away and this laptop is not quite portable and is very likely to overheat in the hot humid night air and i also splurged on a 4gb flash drive and a 250gb itty bitty external hard drive and something else, though i forget what and i am not arms length from the bag... can we say stationary?)... and some easily reheatable food from Chipotle and Too-Jays and some rice milk and spinach and lettuce and healthier stuff for the transition (but for the moment, too-jays desserts are all there is in the world, yum, and the keyboard, of course, because if i type between bites the cakes last longer and i don't feel like i am indulging only myself... ever have a too-jays dessert?... banana dream, chocolate layer, and killer chocolate, a threesome that will take years off the life of the normal mortal human...

so where are you, orlando?...

yes, a local blog... that is what is missing... a place where locals can find me babbling away so they can call or come over and drag me away from the keyboard... wasn't that always the point of the blog in the first place?... i mean, sure, it was a way to pour my heart out, to bleed all over the world through words on the net, to beg for someone to help me back into canada (maybe i should have asked the human's god) with the capital g, but i was trying to stay grounded in reality, ya know?... you know the secret to getting into heaven, don't you?... it's knowing how to make the old fool laugh so hard he farts and causes solar flares... yeah, i know, nobody wants me in their pew... what?... where do you think the best puns come from?... the great pun-isher in the sky, naturally... i'll stop now before i'm smited or something for too much laughter hurts, ya know?)...

so that about eliminates 95% of the humans who might read this blog and probably about 99.99% of the locals in this church on every corner mickey mouse town... it must be all the sugar and chocolate, it is making the brain bounce around in the head and all sorts of dust is billowing out the ears... could be the music as well, i mean, you'll be privy to the soundtrack of the life as long as i remember to include it as i continue this new surge of daily blogging (offline, but still, in realtime and how better to be e-the-real,... i am real, here, now, reaching out with words into the ether, into the energy that connects us all and eventually, you will be able to find these wrods (words too) on the e-lectric (neat tric, the e-lect-ric) superhighway (not that i am lecturing anybody) we loving call the internet or, the web... and maybe you felt the energy before you read the words because you knew i was pouring myself out into words cuz that is what i do when i am alone in my own space (how few may be around who remember, how are you and, as the moody blues would ask, who are you now?)...

i may be deliberately avoiding (or simply not choosing) the music of my core soundtrack... maybe cuz it would remind me of the tapes... fifty, sixty, who knows how many mix tapes that recorded me and my journey through this life... songs that were triggers for my psyche ordered in some secret key-sequence that turned on parts of the brain... seemingly innocuous dusty old pieces of plastic that were left behind simply as a test of trust for humanity... humans have proven untrustworthy more consistently than any species i've known... so why would i want to remember such a sad reality, especially when i do not have the time to do it right, to do the memory dance, to dig through the scar tissue and perform plastic surgery on the wounds (memory is what we make of it, after all, just like shooting the arrow and paiting the target around where it lands, for those who understand)...

nixon had eighteen freaking minutes of relatively random conversation missing and the world was in an uproar... imagine losing sixty nine hours - or more - of the intimate keys to the soul of a psyche... you don't want the truth, you couldn't handle the truth (that's what always sends them running, silly humans, truth is for kids)... and amazement swims in those bright green eyes... it's the dark brown ones that'll scare the living daylight out of ya... whatever happened to the photos, come to think of it... the memories, the secrets, the magic, the me i used to know... where did it go... where did it go...

and it is also quite likely that i am choosing the cds closest at hand, which is the bag right next to this chair out of the six bags of cds bearby... i did start with harry, but it was the only harry visible and i did look for more, but decided that the muses of the universe have set the cd bags down as they are and i ought to see what random forces might bring to the ears and mind... and radiohead and the the, what an ironic choice (and it just goes to prove the energy of the sense of humor always wins - whatever we might call it... if the mirror of god is dog, what would tac be?... something out of a seven volume stephen king novel, perhaps... in any case, words are the playground of the sensient being... what's up with you?)...

decades of writing, how have i changed, is there a spirit, is it rearranged
what about style, and flavor and hue, how much is ego and how much is you?
who can remember, who is still here, where did they all go, will they re-appear
what magic can summon the old energy to reach through the ether for those who knew me

just want to know how much i've changed
just want to know if i still care
i think i do, i think i do, i think i do
the little engine that could is still here

is there anybody going to listen to the story...