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...
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 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...
Labels: balance, bios, choices, comments, dreams, egmo, giggle, goo, heart, honesty, hope, incomplete, irony intros, missing, mttm, patience, perspective, telling, thereal, writing
posted by candoor at 9:40 PM
5 Comments:
alas Candoor,
it seems many others who have pondered on these points, have come to realise that the relationship with visitors and commenters is pretty much the same as the relationship between real people in the flesh.
One can expect others to listen to (or read) one's thoughts ...
but one must also return the visits and comment so that the visitor feels equally connected/complimented/connected
or else the interest fades.
Sure we all like a good story and a good story teller ...
but even Shakespeare would become boring were he on the net
unless he were actually having some dialogue interaction with those who commented and visited.
For sure, for sure Space is a vast expanse, and not of everyone's interestand. One can write to one's hearts content almost to infinity and beyond.
And yet the Mind seems to be the vastest expanse of all - one can conjure up almost infinite words and imagery. But as I say even Shakespeare would find it difficult to find an audience for every thought that crossed his mind
I dare say other than the legacy he left behind in the written word, he enjoyed the daily dialogue and interaction - and were he around today may have surely been a prolific blogger - though perhaps not quite on a par with your good self.
As for relationships of the flesh coming into being on the internet, sure the net is full of the occassioal annecdote - but they may still be very much a rarity - from random blogging or blog search.
Maybe a dating agency (even an online dating agency) can offer better odds.
If there isn't one already near you - perhaps that is where the future and ladybird are.
much agreement and appreciation...
much similarity in so many ways except the flesh interactions are only limited by physical matter and choices... on the net, there are fewer choices and more limits, but the basic etiquette of communication and balanced sharing remains...
i have been very neglectful of visiting you and others (and you know how much i love the stars and space and unknowns out there)... i have a folder called q9 that has all sorts of photos from your blog in it... when i do visit i see so many people responding i figure you're not feeling lonely or neglected and sometimes forget my comments matter too... so much rushing through and around life these days, my internet moments are too often a flash and run in yet another daily blog (e)thereal...
me thinks the bard on high would laugh away
any comparison with life today
were he to find the sights and sounds of now
ponder deeply furrow would he his brow
in all the masterpieces the bard wrote
wouldst he have imagined no petticoat
the flesh his view today would likely see
might have him chasing words much more than me
or pray he find the stimulation raw
in search of his mind lost for what he saw
for so much more living life he could find
literary pursuit be left behind
i, on the other hand, having acclimated to the naked exposure of humanity in volumes beyond any available centuries ago, find time away from the orgasmic flood of sensory stimuli a blessing...
meanwhile, the search continues as much as possible in every way available, though i found enough dissatisfaction with the pay-for-date services to stay away as greed and corruption and political correctness and facades and pretenses are rampant there and i, thankfully, am not part of it...
as for the one, when she arrives, she arrives, and from that moment on the cosmic strings will play a different melody for all time...
thank you again for inspiring me to ponder and play with words by being here :)
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