first, the comments...

there was a time when i sat (mostly laid prone, to be more physically precise) in my room and wrote for myself to figure out life and what was going wrong and who i really was and for amy, who represented the unconditional falling in love of libido and heart before mind ever got involved in relationship analysis or theoretical romantic notions, and for the imaginary the one that would surpass the amy-mark for attraction and obsession of the heart... and for friends i thought wanted to know me completely deeply and truly forever and ever... i was an idealist... i was a romantic... i was loyal...

years went by and i started to write for myself more to amuse myself because i enjoyed playing with words and the responses from other dwindled and the hope for reconnecting with amy dwindled and the dream of finding the one was all there was to live for besides the daily life and momentary enjoyment of living which, luckily, was almost always easy for me...

years went by and though daily life was extremely busy and full of sharing at work, at school, and at home, there was a huge part of me that was not sharing, a creative being, writer and singer and actor and artist part of me, and i wrote of the dream of finding others who would share and nurture and play with those parts of me and i realized that i missed sharing through words, so i started reaching out in pen-pal type publications and responding to strangers who reached out in similar publications and i found some wonderful letter writers who stimulated the parts of me not sharing in the daily physical world life...

years went by waiting and hoping the daily life would provide more sharing of those parts of me not sharing and i realized that to share the parts of me not sharing, i had to leave the daily life that was so full and fun on so many other levels, but so lacking in the sharing of those creative parts of me that longed to come out to play every day so i relocated my daily life and searched in the physical world for another to share life while expanding the literary sharings manyfold...

years went by and the literary sharings were wonderful, but not close enough to touch and share the creative being in the physical world so i chose from those who shared words the few who might actualize the play and devotion and nurturing and creativity that i saw and felt in the words and all through this time is was still writing for myself and for the amy-mark representatative feeling and anyone who might understand and care and maybe even want to actualize the sharing in words and in the flesh and see if the intensity of attraction and obsession of the heart could overcome the walls the mind was steadilly building to keep the weight of loneliness and dashed hopes building up over time from crushing the spirit and idealist and romantic cuz i was still loyal to the unconditional falling in love of libido and heart before mind ever got involved...

and then i stopped writing...

i think i stopped writing to give the dream a chance to actualize... i think i stopped writing because the actualization was a lot less simple and easy than i imagined it and that did not make sense and i wanted to stop letting mind analize and theorize and otherwise interfere with the libido and heart...

and then, everything fell apart...

i may have lost my senses
i probably lost my mind
i forgot how to understand
i learned how to be blind
i felt myself go under
i think i was unkind
and i destroyed the very thing
i set out to find

and then i started writing again in my room, for myself to figure out life and who i was and what went wrong and for gail, who represented my chance to actualize my dream, and for gail's kids, who represented my promise to actualize my dream, and for anyone who might care enough to help me cross a border and give the dream a second chance...

years went by and i started to write for myself more to amuse myself because i enjoyed playing with words and the responses from other dwindled and the hope for reconnecting with gail and her kids dwindled and the dream of finding the one was all there was to live for besides the daily life and momentary enjoyment of living which, luckily, was still almost always easy for me...

years went by and now i write for anyone who might care enough to remember me and for anyone who might care enough to find me and for anyone who believes in the possibility of actualize in the physical world the unconditional falling in love of libido and heart without letting mind destroy the possibility with relationship analysis or theoretical romantic notions, and for the imaginary the one that would surpass the amy-mark and the gail mark for attraction and obsession of the heart... and for friends i hope want to know me completely deeply and truly forever and ever... i am an idealist... i am a romantic... i am loyal...

the difference between now and then, however, is then i would sit down and start writing for myself first and release the day and dream and whatever else was inside and now the first thing i check when i return to the computer are the comments to see if anyone is listening, hearing, reading, caring, wanting, or dreaming along with me... first, i check the comments, to see what connections, if any, were made...

and then i write for me and...

softball report, part two

ok, so y'all might as well be the first to know, i am turning into a southern gay boy... not that my sexual preferences have changed, nor has my libido widened it's view (as exemplified by the petite perky breasts a few inches from my eyes at the wing house a few hours ago still engraved in my engrams (or are they ingrams... whatever, they were sweet eye candy and libido wanted me to stick my tongue out and... nevermind, children may stumble in here at any moment and we would not want them to get the wrong idea... all of you, feel free to get as many wrong ideas as you want, but not the beasts or the children, especially not the children), but i just broke the ice and joined the preaching pep talks at the sunday softball team emails (yes, the same team as in softball report, part one)...

what follows is my pep talk... to set the scene, Charles is our coach (in the central florida gay lesbian softball league that i play in on sundays instead of going to church... oh, i am so bad, i should hide my head in petite perky breasts) and after a dozen or so emails in a couple of hours, he laughed and said something about ok, one day of lots of mail is ok and he wanted us to be supportive, but enough emails already (still laughing, but i think he meant it)...

so i wrote another email, cuz after all, i'm part of the team and don't want to be left out of the coaches reprimands (nyuk, nyuk, and all that softball)... and now that you know a couple of our dirty little secrets, this was my email to the team:

Ok Charles, not every day, but since it is still the same day, I will take advantage of the loophole and add another email speech to the pile :)

Charles is right, we do want to have fun at practice and we do lose focus because we stand around too much - but that is softball, a whole lot of standing around - focused on being ready to make a spectacular play at a moments notice - then a whole lot more standing around.

I can't afford too much of that because I am touching the ball every 20-30 seconds and if I don't stay as alert as I can be just 43 feet from the bat, I can literally have my head knocked off. I understand the joking and side conversations, I'm out there to have fun too, so I am not putting anyone down for getting bored and joking around - please have fun...

but to be a winning team, when we are on that field every bit of your concentration must be on "where is the ball?" and "what do I do if the ball is hit to me or anywhere near me in the next moment?" at every moment... in fact, the way to win is to shut out everything else, to shut out the boredom and the jeering people and the doubts and nerves and errors and emotions - on the field...

Seriously, watch the Force or the Crush... when they are focused, they look angry, mean, unemotional and they win. And they are enjoying doing their best. A cheer for a great play A serious "shake it off" for an error. And that's it, back to business, to play 100% focused on the next ball, where is the ball, and what do I do if it comes my way.

There are two ways to have fun on the field. To say screw-it and just enjoy the sun and air and jokes and friends -

or

to focus on really trying our best every moment to learn more about how to play our positions and how to move our bodies and how to hold our glove and other hand and how to judge a ball's trajectory and how to know where to throw and when to run and all the things our coaches try to teach us - how to to win and then, when we know more and know how to win, enjoy the sun and air and jokes and most of all, friends...

I have played on teams that played softball the first way and we had fun, silly, sometimes drunken, stumbling, "who cares who's winning let's just laugh some more" fun.

I feel we are a team that wants to have fun but not that way.
The hardest part is trusting each other. Committing to doing our best and learning and growing and risking failing is tough emotionally. I hardly know you guys. I am learning about you and I am learning to trust you. There is little or no anger at each other for messing up a play. I feel like there is no laughing at each other unless we are laughing together. That is the way a team becomes a team and that is happening to us.

If we give each other all we've got. If we concentrate at practice learning more about playing our positions. If we focus every moment as it the next crack of the bat means we must catch and throw the ball. If we hold our heads up high knowing we are proud of each other for caring enough to put aside differences and embarrassment and impatiance and frustration and self-pity and shame and any other negative emotion to focus on the teamwork of softball on the field - we will not only grow as a team, but as people and we will teach each other and everyonbe who watches when a true team spirit can accomplish.

Doing our best, REALLY our best, and having fun with friends, with family.

Then, win or lose, we win.

I am afraid of letting you guys down every time I let the ball go towards a batter. I am afraid of letting you down (or of getting hurt) every time a batter swings. That is part of the game (and why I wear the thick shinguards :)

But I go out there because you are counting on me and I believe I have a team behind me, every game more of a team and every game, more friends. You are winners. I am honored that you trust me to pitch for you. I am proud to be a member of the Orlando Flex.

Thank you all :)

ric

PS... Vote! (the serious part, like on the field, ya know?)

And then after you vote, make life fun! :)

GO TEAM!

softball report, part one

dateline, sunday, late october, 2008... because you are so interested in the details of the life of the author of the babble in this blog (almost as much as you love behind the candoor and the other blogs and more listed on the right sidebar just over there ---> (glances to the right), we stop the presses to bring you the latest sports report from the home team, specifically, the softball report... ah, softball, so much fun... why have i forsaken you for so long... like love, sex, and so many other physical pleasures, i put you up on a shelf (and it's not so funny, harry, sheesh) for so long... i think you can see standings and stuff for yourself if you like... we won, 12-9, which makes our record 4-4 on the season...

today in softball news, again most of the runs we gave up came on errors and we might have given up one or two if everyone caught the balls that hit their gloves, but definitely not more than a few... if we move up to a better division next year, we will definitely need to make fewer errors... i only walked one batter today and that was questionable as we had the self-adjusting umpire again, that is, he changes his strike zone at his whim and does not seem happy with the predominent skin color on our team... apparently, i learned today from our coach who was the only black player in the league for two years until this year, the predominent feeling in the league is whites only, whch is so scary to imagine, no less actually be part of, especially in this day and age... the south rises again, dammit, people really suck sometimes...

but i barely notice it myself because i pay no attention to the idiots and small minds around me and when it's pointed out to me i ponder a bit and notice that some of the people who were friendly with me last year are not so friendly with me this year and there just may be a slight tendency (and maybe more than slight) to shine a spotlight on our team and be harder on the players, including the pitcher, being me, when judgment calls are made...

there is one black umpire... he is, in my opinion, the most consistent and fairest umpire... and as odd as it may seem, just in the last couple of weeks i've noticed he was black... i focus on the ball and the plate (as in home plate) and putting the ball where it needs to be to get the batter out because that is a pitcher's job... i wasn't looking at the bigger picture until recently and lo and behold the prejudice does seem to be real on the field... so i may just pay a little closer attention and do my thing, which is ruffle a few feathers in ways that are only noticeable if the feathers respond and then, like with kids when you see the one who reacted, it's on them to explain what their problem is... so many life lessons to be taught along the way, so much to learn...

meanwhile, our first baseman may have a shoulder or collar bone injury, he'll be going to a doctor tomorrow... that's sad cuz he is a good player and very vocal... the second baseban's leg injury seems to be healing well... my torn hamstring from last year seems to be healed up well, though i still cramp in that hamstring more than the other... just need to keep stretching and moving... all in all, softball is much fun, even without a relationship or cheerleader... ah, the cheerleader, i suddenly miss tv... but only for a moment... i miss the cheerleader most all the time though (waaa-wahh) :}

after the game we hung out at our right center fielder's condo (which has an amazing pool, 396 feet long winding around a whole building, and that's just one of them) where he cooked food for the team, so we ate, watched some football (that makes about three times i've seen parts of games this year), and played some cards... the team is fun, i love the softball and the guys are sensitive and kind and friendly, but hanging with them does nothing for my social life (as in love life or sex life) cuz they are all gay (i did mention somewhere along the way that my sunday league is part of nagaaa, haven't i?)... they are the most organized softball league in orlando and we're talking about entering in tournaments in other cities, which sounds like much fun, but alas, no girls (at least no girls interested in boys)... i love the softball and the guys though...

so the fun (and the loneliness) continues (every day, same old thing, huh? :)

and that is the softball report for today... in the next installment, we'll bring you news of the other three teams i pitch for... much less organized evening leagues where teams show up, play, and leave, mostly, so minimal social interaction (and of course, these are the heterosexual leagues... homosexuals just seem to know how to socialized and organized and have fun better, but then, i wouldn't want to stereotype... giggle, yeah, stereotype, nope, not me... so the one obviously has to be gay friendly and have all the social skills of a gay person too, but be very into this boy... what?... we are digressing from the softball report?... and you expected not to?)...

hope your day was full of fun too :)

lips, hips, dips, and jesus

oh, and of course, puppies... oh, sweet puppies, how i love to pet you, to stoke your fur, to tickle your sweet spots, to curl up and cuddle and soak up the love... but this entries is not really about puppies, or petting for that matter... it's not even about cuddling and it's certainly not about jesus, though there may be a reference down the line, no, this entry is even more random than the title and may be another in a long line of internet browsing inspired entries that once were caller browsing, not to be confused with browsings, which was supposed to be your turn, but before we get too carried away with recrimination, insinuation, lubrication, or lucid dreaming, for that matter, let's get right down to the latest in blogdom gardens that have yet to actually become one, true confessions... yes, sweet savory soap company, in conjunction with juffy lube, now bring you...

true confessions, part seventy four (at least)

cuz she is just too adorable, i will not masturbate to her alluring photography (this last one has shocked me awake when i look at my desktop, which (seeing my desktop, cuz all the windows almost never close) is rare enough for me that i usually forget the image i put on my desktop, which shocks me awake and into laughing at myself and my momentary hero worships and impulsivities all the more)... when i stare into these eyes (though there is not a good enough image of her eyes for my eyes yet) i can believe she knows... and sometimes when i am at a spill canvas concert, i imagine they are singing to or about her...

of course one of the previous seventy-three (cuz i know you are just dying to ask) was the seriously scary-intensity of the allure of her eyes,or her eyes (neither of whom do their eyes justice in their flickr sites, but i've seen what their eyes really look like all those years ago (and probably have copies of those images on my old laptops too), but that's another story, and another, and another, for that matter... la dee da dee da :)

when you send words through the mail
do you let them go?
or do you hang on to every word
because you just have to know
you have to know

the challenge for this year will be using the internet as freely to find inspirations as randomly as i have in the past because the connection is so slow and sometimes simply bogs down and shuts my browsing down, especially on high bandwidth sites like myspace or anywhere like it (in terms of bandwidth, not in terms of content)... but of course that didn't stop me from adding yet another new blog to my own personal meglomaniacal webworld, now did it?... awwww, just when you thought i was gonna slink on into a funk over not being able to browse the pretty pictures anymore... alas, the true purpose of the internet will have to wait until next year or so for me... c'est la vie... c'est l'amour... c'est la la... and of course, c'est la puppies (and dreams of petting, naturally)...

so says c'est la pop news... and to think, i was just beginning to explore the infancy of the video me... anyway, it was this alien who introduced me, quite unknowningly, of course, to the new world of tumbltapes, though i have no idea if it plays music or just lists it cuz of the lack of download power at this end... maybe if i just leave the site open and forget it for a while... though it was actually soup that stumbled me in at first... of course soup did also lead me to this other site and and while i haven't really used the word boner much in this life, nor even heard it for many years, i must admit to some amusement ever few posts...

perhaps it is the music... jim croche's photographs & memories followed by keith richards' talk is cheap and now, the 1996 studio recording of jesus christ superstar, the one with the cross for the t in star, has some curious alternative lyrics, and that cast alice cooper as king herod... i suppose i might say i dug this out of the bags in reference to the references to jesus in today's communications, however for irony or whatever, the cd has been sitting in the next up pile with a half dozen others (two of which have already played and been mentioned and Chicago's only the beginning is up next), so perhaps divine intervention had nothing to do with it, like everything else emerging from the ether, the unknown, or the mist...

because if i could touch you, i would take your hand
press it to my lips and open your eyes
catch them with mine and stare for a time
burning your image into my mind
and if i could kiss you, i'd let myself go
wherever you'd take me, i'd follow your flow
riding your fantasy you would find mine
has been to love you time after time

oh, but it is not the chaste holiness alone that makes the world go round, now is it mergatroid?... no, lust plays it's role as well, though it's certainly been put on the back burner for me for some time (so we play with our internet fantasies and imagine what it would be like to know the people behind the words, behind the eyes, within the heart and mind... to make me smile, to colour my world, to stop to share the moment and know yours and ask the eternal question, does anybody really know what time it is, cha... and can we share an icy cold chocolate rice milk, or rich creamy hot chocolate, depending on weather and mood, of course... this is just an internet kiss, after all... and in the end, the fun is in the teasing, but the dream is to make it real... isn't it ironic...

can i explore your skin until we find
that spot that will drive you out of your mind
so you can leave the world outside behind
and travel through your senses to where everything is kind
in your fondest fantasies when you let everything go
to fly to that perfect place only you know
can i explore your skin from here to there
and help you make the whole world disappear

oh yeah, trust in my hands oh brothers and sister and know the laying of the hands that will set you free, halleluya and all that jazz... from the purest innocent of the holiest unconditional love known only to infants, idiots, aliens, and a few odd people who missed the boat when it sailed off to normalcy to the purest lust (and perhaps just as innocent, if you understand the intent and see through the fears) of the holiest unconditional passion known only to soulmates, feral savants, aliens, and a few odd people who were not in line when they handed out fear, guilt, shame, and recrimination for feeling good... amazing what a touch of honesty can do for the soul, or the body, for that mater... i mean matter, i think...

but then, maybe the world will never understand the ramblings of this fool who rides the pendulum from one extreme to the other in and out of mind... the dichotomy is there are no limits within the mind, but there are unwavering limits outside the mind, the primary (and perhaps only) one being honesty without harm, an expansion (or simplification, depending on perspective) of above all else, do no harm, which is kind of like the do unto others as you'd have done unto you, unless you're a masochist or socio/psychopath, of course, but i prefer the simplification of, just love, honest love...

and on that note, i believe i will let these eyes close and slide into sweet sleep as this entry has taken us on close to that magical mystical (and mistical) 4am time... i hope you enjoyed our journey tonight and the play it inspired... and to the players invited into the babble, you know where i am and for you, the welcome is always out... even if i hardly know ya :)

nite nite :)

dunno

should be sleeping, so i ate some chocolate, nestle's crunch may be my the one above them all cuz if i were to have had a favorite chocolate candy list (like a billboard top 100 hits list, ya know?) from the time i was born until now, nestle's crunch woul;d probably be the longest running top ten chocolate candy of them all... and maybe the most years at number one too, cuz it was number one for a while... someday i will have to have so much luxurious free time that i compile lists like that again... wonder what happened to the ones i used to know...

when you send words through the mail
do you let them go?
do you ever think you might really want
to read them once again?
when you put yourself into the words
how can you let them go?
it's like giving up a part of you
to a trusted friend
the connect never ends
and the gift returns
when your friend reminds you of who you are
and all you have learned

or something like that... so i bleary-eyed sit here goofy from fatigue and a floaty kind of numbness tickles muscles in my arms as i wiggle a few fingers to type words upon the screen so we can keep in touch, keep in touch, you know what that means?... a billion words expressing the same dream... it's lost ijn the words, but still all about the music...

whatever could the words mean though if they mean anything we want them to mean and we could have at least a few different meanings each for each word and then the words all piled together increase the potential differences exponentially and oh, the place we could go... just two inches, maybe two and a half inches above the left side of the right knee the skin is agonizing over what appears to be chigger bites, a gift from the swamps of florida when i went wandering the native habitat one night a week or so ago... that was fun, even if we didn't see a herd of deer in the field in the moonlight in the darkness in the middle of nowhere...

random thoughts pop through the think fog blanket smothering the brain as sleep begs for some attention and loneliness demands i stay awake because, after all, i don't want to mis a thing (thank you aerosmith, for articulating the madness of my nocturnalness so excruciatingly well)... maybe someone understands, maybe even cares enough to act on the understanding, after all this time, all these years of waiting in the dark in the fog in the lost hope that there must be a reason, a good reason, for taking the power i gave and pushing the hold button on the life i live and forgetting, or just wandering off to enjoy another life while i sat on hold... alas, the hope redeemed, but then, there is no getting back the years or the time or the youth, whetever was left, and what might have been if i wasn't on hold... listen children, and learn this lesson well, don't give your power to anyone else, create your own heaven or hell... it's better in the end to have no one to blame or thank, but yourself...

i want more chocolate... i want comfort food... so not hungry... so bloated... so tired... and softball tomorrow night and why don't i sleep... sleep, the final frontier... why is why... cuz i want to know why i am alone and why nobody is here to cuddle and breath and share the air and cuddle and dreams and waking up together... two bodies breathing in unison, living so closely that they start sharing the cycles, the circadian rhythms, the energies of life... one following the other then reversing roles, the one more awake or more asleep, the one more in need of the physical change taking the lead... that is love... sharing... bonding... being as one... maybe i'm a dreamer... chocolate...

i was that close to a couple of people along the way... in the brief year amy and i were together, in the stolen moments after dark, we breathed as one... that was the magic... and then, for all the lack of falling on my part, sandy and i blended energies when i was finally tired enough and it was a sweet decade of always having someone to curl up with and cuddle with and pass out with and wake up with and why am i so in tune with the constant craving of loneliness tonight?... inspired by pj's birthday, perhaps... and the children i adopted along the way, so easy to just relax and be comfortably numb, sleep and dream... and then, in keeping with the extremities of the night, the innocence crashes into a more sensual looneliness and i realize how far i've come from physical love as the monty python skit that ends with the line, what's it like? flashes through my brain...

so many years on hold for the two people i gave it all to... two decades on hold... and i've forgotten how to get off...

it's not as funny as the words make it (if you found the reason i crumbled into a pile of laughter a moment ago)... the the sings from naked self which leads me back to goo and most specifically, ash (as ashes to ashes reverbs through the semi-funeral of this life i heard under most rambles and then, the cast of rent burst into bohemia and the theatrical me flies through the ethereal night in my mind as if i've never been asleep or on hold or mostly dead, even...

introspective little bugger, this entry might be, aye yoda?...

i wish i never got thrown out of canada.. i really used to love liking feeling that somewhere deep down i was canadian... it just always seemed like sich a great place to be, except for the cold... i don't want any more cold in this life... i want more chocolate... and sleep, i so feel the physical need for sleep... but my heart, maria, but my heart... and yes, good ol' q9 knows, the show must go on... and maybe england is the place for me, since smash is such a good hearted friend from across the water (madmen?... of course we are)... and then dear pernickety who feels closer than can be as we hardly know each other, but the comfort is wonderful somehow... dot dsot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot?... play words play... and the missing, who know who they are, are missed... and others, hanging out on the fringe, why don't you come on in?... didn't get thrown out of canada too, did you?... oh, canada...

and a lyric haunts me now... so often lyrics haunt me when i stumble around in the dark near my core... these are the days of my... what?... was it indifference?... was it kon kan?... oh yes, blessed memory and even more, blessed google and even more, blessed web journals i've been writing for a decade... it was kon kan and it was these are the days of my solitude... as one year ended and another began and i was reading friday and kind of falling in love and still, remembering, day after day, and still imagining a world where such open minds might exist and falling in love with fantasy once again... and the heartbeats,.... more chocolate...

even the chocolate is imaginary tonight as i drink pink grapefruit juice and savor the sweetness... are you still reading?... and just who were you, who was i talking to back then... better yet, when did you stop being a real person from memory and start being an imaginary person i hoped would find me... that is a question for the ages and perhaps, for you too... as the wise and wonderful z0tl would say, you doesn't always mean you in the internet... or something like that... but he'd say it with so much more caustic flavor... i miss you z, wherever you are, hope life is fun and peaceful...

so instead of giving in to nodding off four or more hours ago, i roamed a bit of aimlesness and rambled on between staring at blank walls in and around my mind and this entry is the result... may it provide you with at least some modicum of amusement and not merely be an exercise in futility and time-passing as it may or may not have been for me... of course you know i found it amm emusing... amusing emotion, amusing emo, emusing, the next great genre of the next great generation... timothy leary told me so...

may you find joy and peace tonight and if you are lucky, may you be loved well...

nite nite :)

wishes for pj

i wish i could find the words to bridge the years
i've realized that time is not as kind as it appears
while wounds may heal and feelings may fade away
when in comes to you the feelings decided to stay

and i wish i could find the words to say
happy birthday
in such a way
that you could hear the music play
the song that brings you to my mind
and still fills my heart with love for you

oh i wish i could find the words to say
happy birthday
in such a way
that you could feel the way i do
when i stop to remember you
i can only hope the message will get through

i never meant to fade away
or leave you out of my life
i always wanted you to be
part of my family

i wish i could turn back the clock
to bring you back into my life
and so i write this song for you
the best i can do

looking for the words to say
happy birthday
in such a way
that you believe it is true

looking for the words to say
happy birthday
in such a way
that you know how much i love you

happy birthday pj
wherever you are

yeah. so
tonight i step outside
to wish upon a star
to wish you a happy birthday, pj
wherever you are

babble on, jim jones

and maybe i ignore the path before me because the bridge spans such distance or the bond is illusion or the sharing is imbalanced or the music is missing, yes the music is missing, no one knows how important that is to me... and maybe i just chose to live in the moment in the real world in the flesh and bones body sharing time and space where eye contact and smiles are not only words and imagination does not have to fill in the space between, yes the space between, no one knows how important that is to me... and maybe i face the fact that my dream will not be found online in words with others far away who have so much to fill there day and others more important than me to pass their time in real time real space where they live... so maybe i do not ignore the path before me because this is me right here right now acknowledging the dead end it presents to me...

meanwhile, kevin wilson, kind of the adult weird al from down under (and we can take that a number of ways), amuses me as i ponder life, the universe, and everything in between wondering what else i can do with this life that i haven't messed up already, especially in terms of unhinging my dreams... unfortunately, my internet connection is slow so i cannot listen to much as each file must be downloaded to be listened to, but i am enjoying the sampling i am finding on youtube... just search for kevin bloody wilson and you'll find home... oh, but warning, if you are offended easily, don't search for him at all... and certainly don't search for a kiwi show called the g spot or searching for or finding or something like that...

a wonderful distraction, that kevin bloody wilson... and so is edie brickell, who sends my mind in the direction of donovan's slow down world with a few lines from the first track of her volcano cd and i am so stubbornly foolish for wasting so much money on frivolous fun and food and stuff that piles up in boxes and closets and cabinets when all that really matters to me in the end, materially, is music and words and visual inspirations... yet how many years have my walls stood barren and white... and how many years have my shelves been an empty sight... and how many years have i listened to a silent night... how many ways can i continue to continue this fight... survival was a reason, fact to be sure, but that's a long long time ago (if only my heart would let my mind know)... loyalty and promises, the best of reasons, but what good is it when you've been replaced (if only that was something i really faced)... believing in love and in innocence and all the fairy tales may be good enough for some (and me, foolish me, too smart to be so dumb)... when life betrays the heart and mind and the body is broken by fear that the dream is gone and hope can no longer save you... what is left to do but paint the world white to better see the rainbows through your tears... when all that's left for real is in the mind, who needs hearing or sight... tommy knew... what is true... do you?...

laguage... sigh and nide... nide nigh not here nor there days that end in y... why?

luggage of the mind, baggage of words clogging the pipes, blocking the flow through the synapses, imagine that... sometimes viewed as snide, but more, the nod of acknowledgement for the inevitible end of life, aided and abetted by normal human behavior (re: suicidal habits), also known as giving up and giving in to belong and not rock the boat and fit in and be accepted, if not popular... aka neight here nor there... transitional terms for whatever, the afterlife, the before life, the life unformed, unlived, unshared... the answer is the question...

contrary to public opinion, public opinion can be wrong... but be that as it may be or not to be, the question awaits the one who cares to find it and complete the circle of sharing that goes around and comes around and continues on ad infinitum and as such, confounds the general public (as opposed to the private or corporal public) to tears that they will die to hide cuz in the real world vulnerability is as deadly as anthrax (and almost as scary) for what good is a living body when the world offers the honest man an emotional death (or a double cross, even, steven, halleluya)... ask yourself this... do you close your eyes to the hypocrisy and stupidity of being afraid and/or scoffing and putting down a search for a supernatural experience, a mystical magical sense of something existing beyond our physical senses, an energy without physical form, while, when alone or in a socially acceptible supernatural environment, hunckering down and praying for the very experience of something existing beyond your physical senses?...

the answers is the question you will ask next...

of course it may not be the answer to everything, like 42, or even the answer you were seeking, in fact, it could very well be the answer you did not want to find, but were somehow tricked into it by this cleverly disguised mind control i casually call babbling, bwaah haha, and all that jazz... unfortunately, in the real world outside the blog and my head, there are obligations i've accepted that restrict my movement and place limits on my time... a sudden and impulsive disappearance from my desk for several days would be, for me, an unacceptible disregard for the committment i made... and therein shows yet another side of the fool who would modify his life for a job place that cloud simply, on any given day, say leave and do not come back (and it's been done to too many long term loyal hard workers along the way)... but what brings on this sudden gimp of conscience?... the clock ticking past midnight?... perhaps, or more perhaps the synaptic trail runs a bit deeper than that if you can find it...

bonafide and sanctifide the reverend said drink cyanide and flock to him were weakened minds who'd gladly leave this world behind... jim jones, did you like the rolling stones... jim jones, did you just want to be known... jim jones, did you dream in monotones... jim jones, jim jones, did anyone say, please leave me alone... leave me alone... jim jones, jim jones, you shoulda stayed a great unknown... jim jones, jim jones, just another danger zone...

and when everybody thought the world was flat, would you have said that's where it's at?... and when everybody thought the sun was god, would you have fought for it as hard?... and when everybody died to reach the stars, would you have stopped just short of mars?... and when everybody sang of love and peace, were you the chasing a golden fleece or stepping double time to stay in line... will everything be fine, i say, will everything be fine - you must be out of your mind, to sit, and read these words when you could be doing anything (which is why i appreciate you giving time and attention to me here so much more than words will ever be able to say, but then, if you don't know me by now, and all that jazz)...

happy birthday to you
happy birthday to you
happy birthday dear pj
happy birthday to you
in one minute :)

so much tiredness (highly caffeinated)

twice thrice a few times all week in the past twenty four forty-eight hours few days week, at least, this box was left open and wordless and even now, the words merely simply mock me as they point out that but bit of nothingness... sigh and nide...

sheesh, mine googleness, the loneliness is deep and tragic of late... you should see it piling up against the door and windows of our chateau... frightful (and no one in here to share the delightful, alas, alack, and pass the chocolate)...

and then there's the tiredness... so little sleep, so much time... but the time, maria, but the time (as this was finally uploaded saturday, hence the corrections adjustments recountings modifications clarifications), the time is so full of doing stuff, stuff for work, stuff for home, stuff for so many different things... so there is practically no time for sleep and the choice, write or sleep, raises it's silly head...

might as well be sleepwriting... mostly dead (or something like that) ...

what title?

well it is already past midnight in the clock that is my head
and it is already past midnight in the soft but empty bed
and it is already past midnight in the rhythm of the rhyme
but in this blog entry midnight is not merely a time
in this blog entry midnight is a state of mind

i remember a time i started every blog entry with a lyric from a song or a quote from a book or something profound or absurd that would be somehow reflected in the blog entry, though sometimes in just such a way that it was hardly noticeable unless the anvil fell on your head... and there was that time the night was full of words and all sizes and colors of assorted moods and perspectives poured out from the world more innocent than g (in movie rating talk, in case you were,'y following just yet) to the carefully orchestrated casual irreverent tumbles through the lust and fusses beyong xxx... especially after midnight...

cuz, after all, what more to do is there when alone than babble on and on, i mean, besides masturbate and one can only do that a few dozens times a day without chaffing... unless you have some good oils or an even better partner, but then, there are at least a few things you can do with a partner better than babbling on and on or masturbating, so i probably wouldn't be here right now if i had a partner, but since i don't, here we are... are you touching yourself right now?... why not?... i mean, your hands are free, aren't they?... i mean, you wouldn't be cheating on reading by doing something else with your hands at the same time, would you?... so go ahead, touch yourself, and tell us, where are you touching yourself right now?...

or would you rather be a prude (we'll get jimminy cricket to sing you to sleep one of these nights if you don't snap out of it and start experiencing the rest of your life... who said that?.. who you talking to?... what's going on here?... ok, everybody out of the pool... what did you do with your bathing suit?... you kids are gonna hear about this... we don't need no education... we don't need no thought control... is anybody listening?... can anybody hear?... does anybody understand?... does anybody care?... how can we know anything if we don't share?... how can so many choose to be unaware?... dammital fear... don'tcha know that laughing at yourself makes it all disappear?... or we'll just get jimminy on your ass)...

it's not that i just want anybody to read through every word to find the gems and publish me for all to see so maybe i'll get noticed by people who might appreciate and understand me (or at least attract millions of adoring fans who throw undies on the stage and send naked pictures and marriage proposals), no certainly not just that (doh!), i most of all want someone to read through every word because they find me worth caring about (and maybe even irresistible too) and share themselves as much as i share (more, even) so we might actually get to know each other and come over and play parchessi (what?) and spades and cuddle and coo and maybe even kiss if there's that sort of chemical attraction but at least be a close personal friend on and/or off (but so much more is the off missing from life) forever and ever and happily ever after too...

but i'll just keep on babbling even if she doesn't come along...

and on that note, i'll take this body to bed to get three hours sleep and then start another eighteen hour day... give me a reason to stop this crazy merry-go-round and i will wash you in sweet oils and scented flowers from head to toe, or at least hose you down with cool refreshing water on a steamy hot day, something like that...

a musing with you

you missed the last and the one before and the one before that and then seventeen more, you missed the day, the month, the year, you missed so much, but have no fear, that's why i upload them, so when you get here, you can find all you want to share... has always been here... for you, for me, for us, right here...

ah, the night that should have found me fast asleep hours ago turned into a babblefest, albeit of minor proporations compared to some of my babblefests, but still i did a bit of looking around and as so often is the case, i loved what i found and you inspired me to continue along my merry way to bring you the great news i had nothing to say but you talked me into babbling on, anyway... thank you my blogspot family (and all my friends from elsewhere too, don't think i have forgotten you), for the gifts you leave for when i finally come around... and now, let's see where the night wandered...

perhaps i shall go off in search of the higgs boson, not related to the american bison, which may or may not be as easy to find... apparently, tens of thousands of the worlds most renounced scientists have gotten together to pinch their pennies and build the world's largest nuclear particle accelerator to date, affectionately known as the large haldron collider (oh those scientists and their pet names for their projects)... it is said that some time in 2009 when the lhc is fully functional (they have to shut it down in the winter cuz they built it under the alps), it will accellerate a proton faster than any particle accellerator has ever accelerated any particle, that is, 99.9999991% the speed of light... amazing, aye?... of course there are those worry-warts who are concerned about what might happen when such particles collide, but never fear, in case you are wondering in the large haldron collider has destroyed the earth yet, you are not alone... in fact, the tens of thousands of noted scientists who collaborated on the proected have provided a constantly updated website to answer that question at any moment of the day or night so we can all resst assured we will know first thing... just go to has the hlc destroyed the earth dot com (or click here) whenever the question arises and you will have your answer...

i should have known the wonderfully resourceful q9 would have scoped out the science behind the scenes, (and i do so love stephen hawkings' sense of humor... he may be the only person in the world who loves the unknown {and laughs at how seriously people take about everything} as much as i do)... i mean, i know this because of the secret mental messages we sense each other when nobody is looking... he wouldn't want it to get around, which is why he wouldn't mind me mentioning it here, but we come from the same planet in another universe and find humanity so odd sometimes, but being stuck here in our respective roles, we just continue to grin and bear it... though he does grin a bit more than i do... come to think of it, he does drool a bit more than i do as well, but then, that might be why he is grinning so much (shhhh, i won't tell all our secrets)... of course it could get really strange if you get his joke... ah, but all this is way above the heads of the ordinary nuclear physicist, so we just keep it to ourselves in our secret mental messages, so don't tell anybody, ok?...

of course you or anyone (but especially you) could find all this out at the institute, if you were to happen by when the custodian was giving a tour of the unseen unwashed lower levels... but then, who has time for such ninsense... besides, we were discussing p9, i mean, q9, who is not at all p9, in fact, she is much cuter and braves the strange mental world of adorable often enough to be family, but then, so is q9, if only for his fun photos of the rest of the universe and wealth of encyclopedic space cowboy references (and wouldn't you know he found the upside down rainbow too)... ah, but behind that lecherous glint is a heart of gold... still it was, i freely (if belatedly) admit, the lovely and talented p9 who stimulated my brain tonight with her clever banter and irreverent humors, so blame her that i am still awake and not getting my beauty sleep (but i thank her profusely) and i want her art on my wall... especially winds blow colder which so has me staring unabashed with both eyes... if may nudge my current background right off the screen... wait, i think i can embed it here (can you feel the excitement... feel it welling up inside)...


Winds blow colder.. by ~pernickety on deviantART

we'll have to wait until i upload this entry to see if it works, but now i hope you see what i see and all i need is a projector to put it in my wall... this one so totally grabs me and suchs me in and makes me want to see it as part of my home landscape... so whyb don't i make time to visit dear pernickety more often?... ah, these foolish games i play with my head, with my time, with my fingers... because i want to spend less time online and more time offline so i can find someone who enthralls me offline as much as you wonderful people enthrall me online... yeah, that's why... good reason too... still, i miss you...

i still don't have a frame for the flashback art dear j9 sent me... but then, i have barely unpacked but a few of the boxes so far... moving in is taking a lot longer than i thought it would... so little time... so little home... so much wanting to share it all... and what's up with z9 after all, vacationing in sunny seattle, perhaps... too much rain in sunnyego?... for while the mask is gone, the blog remains (though it, like the musical interludes i once enjoyed at la9, chokes my scrawny-necked bandwidth these days, i still love him even after the ninth divorce)... i mean, where else can you go to just sit with a friend?... or enjoy cartoon porn, for that matter (i so want to download and upload that to my video blog, but how?... how?... how?... it's taking all night to download just to see it... make the pleasure last, aye?... embed premium or standard... oh you so know how i want to be premium, baby)...

meanwhile the truth may be stranger than fiction (or hawking, for that matter), i am too loving cello, and jorane... harry always had a cellist... i always wanted a cellist... maybe i'll have one someday... but until that day, this is what i do when i'm alone... listening to the storm outside, the rain pouring down, the lights and the sounds... this is what i do when i am alone, add a word just for flavor, a syllable to savor... this is what i do when i am alone, create something new out of nothing so old... this is what i do when i am alone, i play with the words and watch dreams unfold... this is what i do, what i do, what i do when i am alone...

and the irony, besides the fact that this appears now that i've invited you all here in my own semi-random way, the thing that might appear as dichotomy and confusing from the outside is that i know who i believe i am more surely than anything else i know in this life (which is a bliss few seem to come near, a happiness few seem to express or acknowledge within themselves, a peace as perfect as perfect gets in this life, all this and more i experience when i am alone in the physical world and express in my head and in words every now and then when the muse is just right) and yet, to be proof positive sure in the shared reality of the shared physical world outside of my head where life actually exists to be proven real or pretense, it takes sharing, two, validation, confirmation, something i never experienced (which is the sadness, the dichotomy some sense, for a life partner who will commit to a shared reality has yet to appear)...

so the love you save is at the end of abbey road and the rest, well, we just enjoy...

it never fails

except when it fails...

while you are thinking about that bit of profound wisdom that would have jack handey's jaw dropping if he had one, i shall continue along as if it never meant anything at all... never never and all that too... so i was all set to unpack this weekend and ramble on while doing it and the body lets in this bug that says sleep or die, mfker! and i ignore it for two days and finally decide that it is counter productive to ignore my own immune system, so i slept a hundred fifty three hours yesterday and feel sixty eight and a half percent better today, which means i did not die and i actually functioned at work for ten hours without my head exploding.... the bug appears to be on the run, but then, bugs hide out well in these human bodies, so we'll see...

it started on thursday, or maybe wednesday, or one of those days that end in day, and i felt the scratchy burn in the back of the throat that said the bug was in and looking to make itself at home... i was semi-expecting it because in the days just before or so i had inadvertently let an opening into my blood stream appear in the most inopportune of places, where the shit hits the bowl... yes, one of those h's they have a preparation for... such an event occasionally leads to a bacterial cold, usually in the head... gargling with antiseptice mouthwash chased the bugger from the throat, but then it took up residence in the sinuses and that means the body went into overdrive producing more musous and anti-body fluid than the head could hold and no amount of dripping from the nose was gonna relieve the pressure cuz the body knows, it's not just the heat, it's the pressure that turns coal into diamonds and bugs into head cold dead bugs... and sleep... sleep seems to help too...

so there i was, at death's door, and now i'm not...

i think... anyway, it never fails (another never fails) that when i come to blog for all you wonderful people and i find you have not been around for a few days or longer, as sensible and secure and witty and cavalier and confident and irreverent and la-dee-da as i am, i still hear a voice from somewhere in the back of my head asking did i do anything wrong? and that voice just keeps insisting that i must have done something to offend or upset or at least turn you away... silly as that sounds, that voice never fails... except, of course, when you pop up and i laugh at the poor little insecure voice, cuz then it failed in validating the doubts... see, it never fails, except when it fails...

speaking of horseradish, i've been eating house food for almost a week now, except for the whole foods meal and one other, i think, though i forget... mostly dried grains and nuts and some fruit, with rice milk... water and grapefruit juice too... though over the weekend i did have coffee and yoohoos... and one mediocre orange soda... i broke into my boxes of cans of soda left over from last year's all-night walkathon, which should be coming up soon, maybe... maybe not, i remember it being colder, like maybe december or january, i mean, we wore long sleeve clothes, even... anyway, i'm hungry... but the belly still looks up at me laughing... it's amazing how much hunger is emotional... i mean, it never fails that when i feel lonely or sad or disappointed, i want comfort food and feel hungry, even if i don't actually feel hungry at all (differentiating between the hunger feelings, that is)... lately i have not been giving into it as much, but then, it is monday and i might be getting a call from rasputin or precious any moment now...

and i am torn between wanting them to call and drag me out (kicking and screaming, of course) to some decadent meal (with even more decadent dessert) and between just munching on some more dried grains and nuts and fruits and rice milk... maybe tuna, since i've got cans of that in the house... all the emergency rations for the hurricanes are being consumed bit by bit... good thing, cuz they should be on the shelves too many years anyway... so how long has it been since i rambled on like this in real time about real time in real space about real space, aye?... seems thereal has quietly taken over the brief daily blog place (not that anybody noticed, nag nag nag, silly little voice) and this has become the new home for the babbler who's been aching to be let loose ever since we moved from behind the candoor, which, ironically, has about the same readership as this fine real time blog... not that you're the same people, though one or two of you are... the babbler still wanderers aimlessly around wondering why we haven't found his niche in the blgosphere cuz he think's it's just obvious that anyone truly in love with words would love him... but then, the babbler's ego balances out the little voice of doubt, ya know?...

so on the one hand you have insatiable ego babbler wandering aimlessly around this and that and the other thing as if everybody in the universe and beyond was just dying to know whatever might come forth from the fingers next cuz the most amazing wisdoms and words that will save humanity and all other species in the universe from emminent destruction are sprinkled amidst the irreverence as if genius can not just come forth and be spoken without all the silly distractions...

. .

and on the other hand you have the poor little lost boy who never got a sotry written about him like peter did, but has with some certainty decided that nobody will ever love him because he's just not lovable or worthy or anything and like randy newman's short people, got no reason to live except maybe to sing the poor-me song (so now we know why he does it), as if that changes anything...

meanwhile, between the wide-eyed wonder that cleaims to know it all and reassures me that everything is and will be alright even if i don't know it yet and the two extreme creatures of habit described above, there's rice milk dripping from my chin so i ought to stop lapping up the cereal and use one of the hands and this thing called a spoon for a few cuz i am obviously hungry and since i have not eaten since some time yesterday, i suppose eating might be a good idea... i would be happy to babble on about something other than food, but there's no naked go-go dancers around just now so food is the next best thing... hey, i've had a bag of nestle's crunch sitting open on the counter since i moved in here and i have not touched one, not one, so there lack-of-will-power fans, you lose...

speaking of losers, what's happening in sports and politics these days?... like i have no idea and i care only a little more... i check on college football on the web, but not much else... and i was just thinking as i drove home from work today how unattached to life i felt about ten years ago when i was wandering along the wilderness trails in upsate new york with no clock to punch and no obligations to anyone except to the promises i made that, in those wandering moments in the great outdoors, i could not keep because i didn't know where to keep them and so i'd wander aimlessly through my days living on the road just wondering about life and the point and whether i should turn left or right at the next fork... and the irony is i miss that freedom and enjoyed the moments of aimless wandering even though i didn't know where my next meal was coming from... and i remember one morning, after i got a car to sleep in, how a woman put a bag of groceries on the hood of my car and scurried off to her car before i could thank her...

of course there was that voice that wondered if the stuff was poisoned...

it wasn't... and i remember i kept one of the cans of something, iot's probably written about in my ancient journals, just to remind me that when you least expect it from out of the blue, someone just might care enough to show it, even if they don't want to show themselves... see, it never fails... but the thing we've got to understand about the little voice is that the poor thing is insatiable... i mean, you could be right here giving the greedy little sucker all of your best undivided attention for hours and hours and days and days and then, you look away for a moment cuz like, maybe a plane crashed outside the window and the baby is right back into singing his woe-is-me what did i do now blues... and the babbler will be laughing all the way home, even when he doesn't have one... maybe i just kept the can cuz i didn't have a can opener...

and that, my little fairy children of the woods and dales, is our tale for tonight... i hope you enjoyed yourself and will return again and agin, as you do every night, for a moment shared here is worth all the green M&Ms in the special xmas bags... of course we'd have to negotiate for the red ones...

nite nite :)

looking for what?

ok, so i am cheating with a comment (actually, many comments ought to be here and in time, or later, some time some day even, i just might catch up on all the blank spaces like i keep saying i might... for now, here's this exposure:

i'm always looking for reassurance... i've been starving desperate for some intimate sharing, some head pats, ego strokes, but more than anything in this world (with deference to lenny kravitz), i am so (what's beyond desperate?) for attention to detail on a meaningful level that i've started walking around the apartment talking to myself and assorted inanimate objects... aloud... and i respond, often in lyrical refrains... sometimes my own words, sometimes others... sometimes the inanimate objects respond to... at least to me... in my mind... hey, get your own talking inanimate objects... or come share mine... if you think you can... this living alone is awakening me to just how amazingly unbelievably lonely i've been in this millennium...

shhhh, don't tell, i don't want anybody to think i'm an easy mark...

notice how i am not concerned about anybody thinking i am losing my mind...

yeah, and then after i left all these words in a downpour, you go and disappear into real life for endless days at a time and i'm left wondering if it was all a dream again (number nine number nine number nine... soooo sooo long ago... )

yes, i noticed you noticed the nine words that i deleted (and if you didn't i win na na na na na) because i was determined not to give power to the greedy desperate child or the cynic who expects everyone to disappoint (but if he expects everyone to disappoint, then he must have expectations, and if he has expectations, then he must have hope, and if he has hope, then how can he be the cynic?... omigosh, i just confused the peanut gallery and they are running around looking for their heads... quick, let's get out of this parentheses before they find them)...

and tom hanson sings:

you spin for me
a mystery
you wrap me up with it

you fly so high
you light the sky
you stop me wandering

you fall for me
and i am free
and that is everything

i am under
a cloud of wonder
and you are why

am i singing that to myself?... do i want that sung to me?... do i want to sing it to someone else?... are the peanut gallery heads still rolling around?... did i even get the lyrics right?... not sure about the last one... question, that is...

anyway, that's how the cd starts off, so how could i not fall in love with it?... and even so, i'd like to know, i'd like to know

my love sits alone
in the dreaming tower
a cigarette
the only light

i want to speak
i do not enter
i know
the timing isn't right

but even so
i'd like to know
what it is she is thinking

but even so
i'd like to know
i'd like to know

my love sits so still
the midnight ( . . . )
the quiet
is her covering

i move to speak
but i froze
does that
ruin everything

but even so
i'd like to know
what it is she is thinking

but even so
i'd like to know
i'd like to know

somehow that (second song on the cd... and two others have already been transcribed for your pleasure and such and such here in previous entries . . . does that say something?) represents every time the child inside (but my heart, maria, but my heart) came close to a true love, a mommy, a dream come true (finding emo?)... and i add my own lyric to the sweetly seductive haunting refrain...

it might not be meant
to be in this life
for me
to know a family

but even so
i'd like to know
i'd like to know

and then, there's a reference in my head-flow inspired by this song (and specifically that i'd like to know chorus line) inspired by the few who i thought could be (were, at those moments) the one once upon a time in that last line... at least in my mind...

she may not be the one
she may leave me undone
alone
and licking my wounds

it could be i'm a fool
to give her the control
my life
whatever may be

but even so
i'd like to know
what it is she is thinking

even so
i'd like to know
i'd like to know

and when people would tell me to forget, to move on, to stop letting someone drag my heart around, to stop caring what the truth was or what was real, to just let go, those were the words i'd hear in my mind... but even so, i'd like to know, i'd like to know...

maybe she was cruel
maybe she was kind
knowing
may not change a thing

even so
i'd like to know
what it is she is thinking

but even so
i'd like to know

i'd like to know

maybe you can see why i am letting tom get into my head more now... as if his nocturnal anthem (transcribed elsewhere in this blog) was not enough :)

i've always been told
leave well enough alone
don't wake
sleeping dogs or what they know

ignorance is bliss
or better left unsaid
curiosity
may have killed the cat

even so
i'd like to know
i'd like to know :)

what was this entry about, anyway? :)

oh, i was exposing my insatiable desperation and of course, you are free to take full advantage (which is why you are not supposed to know just how beyond desperate i am, so don't tell) and so as i head over to tom's myspace to check for lyrics (none there either) and i've got to sign in and find another 41 friend requests so i start approving and checking out an occasional site and i find stars go dim and while they definitely need better production, i hear the words and ok, the universe is taunting me again...

time to babble...

yet is was so far mast midnight and sleep...

babble...

sleep...

later...

thanks for the ball, dad

thanks for reminding me i wasn't done (referring to the previous entry and the comment this entry is being born from which this entry is birthing and coming forth in this rather perfunctory (what?) and particularly parenthetically celebratory way)... and thanks also for getting libido involved (i have to blame somebody and you are the only one appearing out of my cast of thousands)... and yes, of course they (jewel and rene, the singer and actress, not the stone family or the one who walked away) are bookends, just look at their faces, they both have gary coleman lips!...

whatutalkingbout, willis?...

i miss the play (of words, cuz words are all i have, after all, sad pathetic imitation of a man i am, using literary techniques to pretend to have a life and friends and loved ones and family and sex between bookends every few hours)... nobody wants to play with me these days... well, that's not true, lots of people want to play with me, but they don't actually want to play with me (and i don't just mean in the touchy feely way)... they want me to play at a subdued, normal human energy level... and besides, you scared everybody away (i have to blame somebody and you are the only one here out of my cast of millions... see, i wasn't repetitive... only slightly redundant... maybe what we really need to do is start a correspondence out here in the public eye so i can take being ridiculous seriously... anybody?)... of course they have sense and are building real lives offline, just look at their brains, they all have gary coleman lips!...

huh?...

or was that bette davis eyes?...

yeah, that's it, or that's the ticket (thank you joon lovitz, wherever you are), weird al's next parody must be gary coleman's lips to the tume of bette davis eyes... i don't care if it's been done, sort of, by gumby... do it again, dammit al, that's what we pay you for!... get gary coleman's lips!...

the preceding commercial interruption was brought to you by this commercial interruption for dammital, yes, dammital, made famous by peg bundy and perhaps paris hilton, who ought to get a few random hits to this entry, dammital, the new fast acting time released formula of fuckitol, the drug of choice by choosy mothers who gave up on peanut butter and their teenage sons everywhere... stay tuned for our next breakthrough product vying for your bread, jammital, for the relief of minor to moderate diarrhea, literary, verbal, or otherwise... for serious cases, consult your doctor and request cramital, available only by prescription.

the simple fact of the matter is, snotty nose and all (did i mention i actually did get a bit of a tickly head nose cold being stuck out in the weather and so and so?... sniff, sniff, snort), there is just way too much bottled up in the cerebral cells just waiting for a little encouragement, applause would do...

i wonder what would happen if i was ever truly nurtured and actually supported and passionately cheered on whole-heartedly by real people in the real physical world... would i shine and light up the room and amaze the universe or would i crumble and become the nobody i've worked so hard to be behind the curtain, or candoor, for that matter... these and other burning questions without marks might be asked one day if anyone was around to ask... someday, somehow, somewhere...

meanwhile, thanks for the comment, come on let's play...

yes, for those of you astute enough to pick up on the queuein the title (and in the previous line), that was a reference to harry's cats (oooo, i'm telling), not to be confused with ali's cats or the top cat cats or any other cats who might be in the areas.... i think i'll drink like 28.5 ounces of starbucks mocha frappuccino and see what happens (ooooo, that's telling)...

and nobody around to share the buzz, alas, seven billion people never knew what they were missing... and you, occasional visitors from a strange planet far beyond the mortal man, yes you, lover of mixed metaphors, able to cross oxymorons with your bare fingers, twist similes with your eyes crossed, and butcher analogies with the greatest of ease, stride (crossed legs past crosses of all sorts, no less, and holy waters, even) hand in hand with the nowhere man to the hill to let the fool know he was never alone in the first place, only to all fall down and break the crown and wonder why we all didn't just get naked and do the wild thing in the first place...

ah, nostalgia from the first place, if she only knew the power of that kiss, we'd have never stopped, but that's another time (not to mention another song)...

and the irony of the cats is far from over, or overlooked, but is allowed to stew with the rest of the soup that we have, all these long years, wondered about in the age old query, is it soup yet? (and if you do not recognize the line, you have not found the roots of the online journal just yet, but feel free to keep barking up the trunk of the tree for all are welcome in the gardens no matter what route is taken to enter)...

once upon a time we dressed so fine and started every entry with a quotation, often lyrical, but i don't think anybody was really paying attention back then... and now, the long forgotten as the (omigosh, where did i go?... did you know i've been gone, right here and then, now, then even, in mid sentences, for more than two hours?... and where? Where? WHERE?! you scream in panic and concern... where could i have possible have wandered off to without even realizing i had wandered off in mid-sentence?... why, to the internet archive, of course... see, i was checking on the 1999 journals and found they were missing... missing, i say!... the horror... the outrage... the devastation... and so i dove into the last chance motel, the only hope for finding deleted pages on the web (that i am aware of), the (da da da dah!) internet archive where somebody or bodies (i don't know who) provide some sort of behind the scenes web spider search and save and storage of pages and low and behold, i find the long lost journal pages that disney deleted so long ago... that's where i've been, thanks for asking)...

so now the ancient very first internet journals should be up and out there... though some of the heartbeats from 1999 are still missing, so painful losses continue to plague the experience of life as i've know it... but there's always hope i will find the missing pieces of the puzzle of my past and psyche and so on any day now any way now i shall be released...

and so we take one more step closer to the beginning which leads back around to now and then, tomorrow (which is always now when it gets here... so find your way back through the wayback machine or maybe this will work someday, finally, after all, or else it won't and the missing teeth will ruin the smile and therein alter and diminish the communication (or maybe the universe is stepping in and keeping us from reviewing what we are not ready to do together, who knows, i only hope all the pages come back together someday...

yes, someday, like superman, an elusive illusion from far far away, which is a few exist before never never land on the imaginary turnpike, cuz there are way too many pieces of the puzzle of this life as i've known it missing today... sigh and all, at least the quote index is mostly working, i think, and that has a lot of the lost entries connected, i think, for the moment, sigh and all (we'll do the commercial for cyanal another time, the ultimate cure for all woes in this life, made with only the purest ingredients, including farm grown organic cyanide, and only sold in the finest health food stores)... and that doesn't even count the music...

dichotomies are us...

and you? :)

free pass

just when you thought there was no more room at the inn, or here at the festival, for that matter, because the screaming throngs of adoring fans just cannot keep away and you are really not into the mosh pit scene anymore, there's a seat right down front with your name on it... yes, your name, just try it out... it's right down there at the bottom of this entry... just click your way in on your very own link (see below)... your personal private access code and secret password is:

COMMENTS

O . . O
. . .
O

ok then, that wasn't too pathetic a joke, aye?... yeah, lonely as usual and loving the fact that i can make a mockery of it and myself in public just so maybe somebody might be amused with me and then i won't be so lonely as usual, right... so tonight was supposed to be an active night and a step back to the drop-the-gut path, but the storms overhead cancelled the softball and then... the poet called to see if i wanted to go downtown for dinner, but no i said no, no more eating out this week (twice is enough, or ws that three times... is today thursday?)... then another guy called and wanted to know if i want to go see .38 special next week... maybe... but the decision i made for the moment was to come home and ponder my navel (and dinner for fans of keeping it real)...

and on my way back from my aborted walk to the gym (i got downstairs and found the pouring rain just beginning as i grabbed my cellphone from my car... i'd have been caught halfway between the gym and the apartment if i didn't leave my cellphone in my car... and then, pow smash bang kaboom, i wouldn't be writing this cuz i'd be dead on account of lightning... it happens, ya know... or else i might be freezing soaking wet icicle-like at the gym and catch pneumonia and die... or something like that...

so instead i came here, to the garden of this madhouse, and you have me, you lucky people (even if you aren't in your chairs at the moment and you are out gallivanting in the rain or sun or shine or night or dreams, you know i write these words for you and only you, right?)...

O . . O
. . .
O

but hey, and seriously now (really?), what's happening in the world, anyway?... i have no idea what's going on in the baseball playoffs or football seasons or anything important... and what about the mundane details?... is the election over?... how about the war?... did any storms destroy new orleans or anywhere else this year?... is the president still smirking?... did he get up to a fourth grade reading level yet?... i am so interested in the state of the union of humanity as it slowly dissolves into the ooze from which it came... some say god is in the ooze, ya know... some people...

but what really matters is... what's happening to the cheerleader, dangit!...

life without a tv is traumatic at times, ya know?... yeah, so now i'm sitting here after savoring leftover seafood alfredo and mushroom ravioli and remembering how much i love jewel (her, the singer, songwriter, not the stone, or family of) while i am munching on dessert (an assortment of grains and fruits and nuts bathed in rice milk) and yeah, there was a time i avoided her because of the foolish games so all too well reminded me of because of her gift with words and there's also the question of her spirituality cuz i wonder about such belief systems when i am imagining getting into where such belief systems and deep rooted dreams and hopes and fears and the true person inside lives... there are a few people in this world i would love to talk to and she is one... how much of her thereal was in those words she sang... how much of the few hours of words and music truly represents who she is down deep where she is who she is for real... and i wonder if she's as sensitive aa she sometimes appears and then, that voice that inspires those big eyes (mine, not hers... in fact, she's got kind of beady squinty eyes, come to think of it) asks rhetorically (hense no question mark), sensitive?... how could she be, she's a success...

yeah,
O . . O
. . .
O

anyway, i never gave spirit (her cd, jewel, that is, the singer, not the rocks, not that she doesn't, rick (of course i meant rock, but if she wanbted to ric, we could certainly discuss it), that is, cuz surely she rocks, though not in the hard core way, more in the joni mitchell, judy collins way with maybe some joan baez tossed in for good measure)... and looking at her cd photo the mind suggests that she and rene zellweiger could be bookends... matching, if you like... not necessarily naked, they could wear matching t-shirts and panties... dang that cheerleader infected my brain... what's that?... libido never went to england, must have been smash... i should put on shawn colvin singing words... now there's a classic poem set to music... what's that?... it's only words, and words are all i have to take your heart away... la la la la la la la...

but what i was getting to if all these other women would just leave us alone for a moment (sheesh, i mean, really... it's tough being irresistible to the deep ones) is that i adore her (jewel, the singer, not the... soft drink) voice and her singing style...

does that mean i am depressed?

O . . O
. . .
O

that depends, how much does a depressed person laugh?... yeah, well, ummmm, ok, so this entry comes from that place that has no name and could not be found on a map even if it had one... having fun with the wondering wandering way of the babbler as he window shops along the avenues of my mind... get the visual, it's really cool... feel free to throw in a few windmills while you at it, it's your visual, after all... i miss sarah mac too...

still, i sense the conformity and shudder to think even the most creative and seemingly independent among us may not actually think for themselves... whatcha think? :)

O . . O
. . .
O


Happy Birthday John

finding emo

as if emo was a person (or at least a character of substantive personality in words), i present the latest fundamental description of my fondest dream (sort of) in the usual impromptu babble (though we may have missed out on the three part harmony this time... yes, i did think it was and is important enough, not epic, perhaps, but vital to the understanding of the being known as me, i just did not make time for the harmoiny... yet... and i may not let you know when i do because, after all, no one said it should be easy... dig we must) as i attempted to explain it for the seven billionth time (which is why i babble, after all, to find the perfect words to express whatever it is i am expressing and first on that priority list was always the words that would express the dream that would finally attract the one (or theone as we've started refining words in thereal... i suppose the primary difference is that anybody can be the one but there is only one theone... yeah, or something like that... are we still in a parentheses?... oh)... what was i explaining again?...

anyway, for your edification, posterity's review, the one, theone (who is also a the one as subsets are), and anyone interested, here is the whatever it is, enhanced for greater perfection (if not yet harmony, though maybe)...

i am searching for myself, externally... my shared self, the person i am in a shared (and therein more real) experience, as opposed to the person i am in my mind where everything is clear and secure and well... this fundamental concept is essential to further understanding, so if you didn't get it, well, you are on square one, continue as you wish) that (searching for the shared or external self) is my experience in this life due to the experiences i've experienced (or not experienced)...

and that changes everything...

the one is the one who will acknowledge me, nurture me into becoming me, who will create me with me, as i thought was finally touched on in recent conversations betwixt and between the lines (reference to another blog you'll have to find yourself cuz i'm not linking it right here in this paragraph so there na na na na na) and then she becomes theone, i suppose, since there is this new theone position recently reborn, in a literary sense, at least...

and if she (yeah, i know, anything is possible and he could be a he, though that's not why i play softball with the gay and lesbian community on sundays and this is a tanmgential aside that could easily lead us from the point, if that hasn't happened already... is this the harmony i was referring to not being here?... more than three part, in that case, aye?... oh no, when the peanut gallery start singing infinite harmony parts, nobody ever follows along... alas, where for art thou the one theone one?) too is still unformed for any reason, i will strive to return the favor, the gift most children receive and take for granted... a gift that prevents true understanding of this life experience i loosely call mine...

love is (oh no, we're not defining love again, that'll confuse everything) pure selfishness and selflessness merged into every act for it is bonding to want (and strive to achieve) a unity that is a self-blending the two selves...

the precarious balance that may be an impossible dream...

and may not be...

i await the one who will truly devote everything to the experiment to find out...

i can afford to do that because of the experience that leaves me as i am, undecided with the guardians of the older generation...

and as alone in the world as a human gets while still maintaining social ties and enough cultural functionality to pass as human (normal enough) to not get thrown out of most social circles and gatherings... but those who look closer with more acute awareness can usually tell that i don't fit in because i was not made to fit it, i was not given the keys to fit in... and i will not crash a party i am not invited to... i stand on that ceremony with the human race because of my experience...

and the irony, the thing that might appear as dichotomy and confusing from the outside, is that i know (in my mind) who i believe i am more surely than anything else i know in this life and yet, to be sure in the shared reality outside of my head where life actually exists to be proven real or pretense, it takes sharing, two independently interactive beings bonding for this purpose... that is the external (real world, shared public) validation, confirmation, "truth"... something i never experienced...

so it is not that i live in some sort of internal confusion or the need for another to complete me or the pretense that love is purely selfless and someone else will make everything alright...

i live complete within myself as the illusion of who i am, real within my mind, but not shared, so not fully formed in the physical shared real time and space yet... that requires (not my choice, kind of like a law of physics in this world) someone else outside of me who will confirm everything has always been alright and therein make it real in the shared reality outside of my head...

the way a mother does, or a sibling, or anyone who actually makes that connection on that level, a subconscious bonding that most take for granted...

of course i could be wrong (doh)...

love, hate, nurture, abuse, whatever, your mother will always be your mother, half of your biological creator... and as you may know from reading me, i never had one of those and the substitute undermine whatever bond there might have been)... in many cases the relationship does more harm than good, but it does one thing that i never experienced that is pretty essential to this life as we know it and that is to confirm your existence, to give you history, to give you a permanent mark from which to begin to create yourself...

and the creation continues throughout life, but the difference is, most people began...

and i will not question the judgment, nor make it, as to whether it is better to have a beginning even if that beginning and experience screws up an entire life - or whether it is better to have no beginning because no one ever bonded or cared enough or took the obligation however grudgingly...

the difference is the difference...

for knowing all the answers is not the wisest of things, which is why i revel in the unknown and whether i seek it out or just take comfort in it's existence... it is my greatest comfort and security because it is home, because i, in the shared life sense of formed identity, am part of it...

and for all the hope and dream of finding it, romantic love is temporary as it is illusion, as is everything until shared in the physical world, and so therein dependent on life and life is temporary...

and it is a sacrifice - compromise, bonding, deciding to live life shared is the sacrifice of pure individual freedom and the individuality that allows... and while there is always the option of breaking the physical sharing promise and starting over on a newfound freedom trail toward a recreated independent identity, that is not why two choose to create the bond, that choice to separate is a failure of the primary goal of the bond, to share life as one unit, to become closer in every way possible, to find the twin that merges the two and share the one-ness of becoming twins...

relative twins, naturally... emo twins... imperfect, certainly, but a static perfection is boring in it's purity as it requires no change and therein, cannot be perfect for anyone who is alive - for life is change...

romantice love, for me, is striving for the perfection of being one with everything and sharing it by joining individual selves and committing to making the changes that creates mutual fulfillment, pleasure, and a sense of one-ness... therein, there is the world out there, and there is an "us" - the one theone and me no longer merely two individuals, but a third new entity called us... or whatever term we might us...

idyllic and impossible?... i have no point of reference to make that judgment... i can only hope my belief that it is possible can be proven true...

and doves will cry and there will be poor always and confusion will be the choice of many minds, but that does not mean two cannot choose to live the same dream and make the lemonade from lemons and the magic of merging individuals into a unity which, by any name or word, i see as the point of this life and i shall call it love...

or romantic love then (emo?), as there are so many other ways to love, but in the end, they are all the same... the choice to give up a touch of self, to compromise a bit of desire, to sacrifice a smidge (or all) of identity to become something that was not there before...

it may be challenging to conceive amidst the reality of daily life that most live, especially in families and marriages and within the work-for-a-living culture we are born into (and all the blindly accepted compromises and rules), but...

believe it can exist and it can exist...

believe it can be real and it can be real...

do it (share it, become it), and it is real...

two who do, know...

all the rest either scoff or dream or ignore, but that matters little to two who do...

all i've ever wanted was to be one of those two who do...

:)

yeah, i know, enhanced for greater perfection is one of those wide-eyed HUH? or whut? phrases... if you were distracted by it and didn't actually read the whatever it is as intently as you might have without the little distraction (literary speed bump?) out in front of the whatever it is (caught in the filter, ring roto-natzi, experts in unclogging and renovating pipes, hoses, and literary paths for sixty years... also cleans and replaces filters for an additional charge)...

so there it is, stay tuned for the sequel, emo and me... sure to be coming to a blog near you any moment after we find emo :)