neglectful me

i know, i've been neglecting my reatime, which isn't really realtime anymore since the babbler moved in (is that what happened behind the candoor too?), but there's always thereal where i seem to have found a kind of compromise with the babbler (like giving up this realtime blog to him?) and the mundane details of life seem to get recorded in relative peace and uninterruption...

meanwhile, in my effort to fill in every day here with you, my dear babble-loving comrades in cyberspace, with life still alive somewhere inside i cheat and give you the following comment that was obviously infiltrated by the babbler and to keep him happy and away from thereal, i present his meager (and trust me, it's pretty darn meager) offering here... for one, for all, for the babbler (with the occasional added word here and there for spice and a random corrected typo or few just cuz i can)...

so what can i say that will stimulate you that will entertain you that will justify you giving up all this time to play words games with me are there words that could mean reciprocity but i want to say more something real and profound but with a deeper meaning only your eyes can see so i stumble and fumble until they are found and i wish on a star that you will...

stay with me
still love me
not hurt me
be with me

ah, if only in these >papar fantasies

so what can i say
that will stimulate you
that will entertain you
that will justify you
giving up all this time
to play words games with me
are there words that could mean reciprocity

but i want to say more
something real and profound
but with a deeper meaning
only your eyes can see
so i stumble and fumble
until they are found
and i wish on a star
that you will...

find me.

is it irony that the who (the band) plays at this moment?... the who's next cd...

see me
feel me
touch me
heal me...

and can harry be far behind?...

if you want to look
but you don't touch
then you won't touch
and you'll never feel
and if you don't feel
you'll never cry
and if you don't cry
then you'll never heal...

the soup i ate tonight was pretty good for canned soup... progresso chicken gumbo 50% less salt (less than what?) and campbell's fat free cream of mushroom (fat free cream, now that's an oxymoron) and campbell's vegetarian vegetable (the original comfort food, but they don't use lima beans anymore, cheaters... i used to buy extra lima beans to put in that soup... you've got to cook them up a whole lot so they are as soggy as the other canned veggies to make the taste and texture just right... kid gourmet, i was) and rice milk and some globs of fat free cream cheese (double oxy power) and a slice of gouda and a tablespoon of ken's sweet vidalia onion dressing and a tablespoon of archer's portabella mushroom sauce and a tablespoon of ketchup (i did mention i'm a gor-met, right?) and four teasoons of oatmeal and the bottom of the bag of parmesean tortilla crackers and a few flavor blaster baked cheddar goldfish and a spoon... i didn't eat the spoon though...

this is probably going to be a reatime entry (see, i am a prophet after all), though it belongs more behind the candoor, but then, reatime has been taken over by the babbler(is the babbler talking about himself in the third person?), when there is time for babble, so, it isn't really reatime anymore (so am i human yet?... all too so, perhaps)... maybe that's why i stopped capitalizing and adding the trademark... actually, the trademark stopped when ms word stopped cuz it's no longr easy and fast to add... such truth he tells... if confession is good for the soul and it doesn't feel good, does that mean there is no soul?...

there was once (upon a time) some wisdoms amidst the folly of words as i let them gush out of my head through my fingers into the ether that takes shape in the form of these words on the screen on a computer somewhere out there sometime other than my current momentary now... and these are apparently a few of them:

some of us use words to amuse ourselves, to occupy our time, to give us something to do until something to do comes along... of course we could go out looking for something to do, but I've found that if you go out looking for something you occasionally actually find it and then become obligated in some strange way to actually do it, even if you have since decided that you really don't want to... going out into the world is kind of like a blind date with life, you never know just what it's going to be like... of course sitting around watching reruns can get rather dull and make one as big as Rerun, but that's an old show of a different color... not a horse, this time...

perhaps i lost my way or perhaps i was successful in becoming human after a lifetime of trying (so will you love me now amy?... sheesh, and to think that's why i set out to be human in the first place... to understand and to stop hurting as much as i did... to understand and somehow connect with she who could turn her feelings on and off like an ordinary every day light switch... i think i understand now... and i like it even less now that i can almost do it)...

that was good soup though...

wait, did i just trip back to candora?... or further... farther?... forgive them, they know not what they do...

so much irony buried in the words tonight... meet the old boss, same as the new boss... wait, that's meet the new boss, same as the old boss... yeah, same difference... and to think i waited (still waiting, am i?) all those years... only bobbie reached me through the amy curtain... and ri almost did, on another level... and valerie scratched the surface... nancy?... memory is a fickle beast...

the rest of that decade remains pretty blurry, but i know there's a calendar in my letters somewhere... on the atari computer with so many other words... i wonder if i will ever read them or share them again... the transition from paper and pen to keyboard and screen took many years as i resisted, true to the purist, but finally i tried it and it seems so formal, so professional, so exciting in a grown up sort of way, and here i stayed resisting going back to pen and paper except for a few brief moments of a few thousand pages or so from the floor of an apartment just off college...

old college avenue
and in the time of having you
i remember it, as it it was today
the tiny room and the single bed
and though the trails of time
have lead us far astray
the memory seems to stay...

thank you harry... there were so many, hundreds of thousands of pages filled with tiny print before the computer... some remain in storage, i hope... so many more were put into the mail and sent to others... to so many others... pages filled with babblingest babble and emoiest rhymes and all sorts of silliness and seriousness and and dreams and wonders the hand once did... so much me floating around somewhere in this world...

maybe...

sad if it was buried in some landfill or burned and gone... i would have loved to read the words i wrote back then to those people of my past... i believe i still have the words they wrote to me in a box in storage... wow, reading those letters would be a trip... while i was scribbling to myself from the first crayon, it was through those letters that i learned to live on paper... letters to amy, shari, heidi, charlene, susie, and others...

i like the words chosen for this entry... yeah, you know me... i am not doing them justice in this response, but then, i am older and wiser now, or at least older and mentally ill... you picked out a line that smiles at me and i smile back... i also like the opening, [writing is] something to do until something to do comes along...

the story of a life (thank you harry)...

i wonder what the world is doing tonight... i don't see the news anymore, no tv for more than a month... i did hear a bit of the vice president debates at the gym... nothing changes, so i am happier without the tv... except when i think about the cheerleader (eureka, the metaphor of the cheerleader returns... and a few other shows too, but mostly, i don't miss tv at all... i'll get the dvds from the library... or rent them... or some loving soul i will meet someday will record them for me... then i might plug in a tv... unless i get bored enough for multi-stimulation again...

so what else is new?...

my dreams they aren't as empty, as my conscience seems to be... or my babbling, for that matter... i will find the babblings lost in files over the past months and fill in the missing dates as if this blog was some sort of puzzle (like i did behind the candoor, remember?) and then, posterity will believe i was here every day (what life?) babbling away just to keep us all happy...

which who cd (or lp, actually) came before who's next... anybody?... it was the wondrous time of ray's basement with me a barb and ray and elise and party all night and wake up to an amazing breakfast... and ray still holds the record for the longest pee... a time when elton john's elton john carved itself into my psyche permanently... and though the songs started out for those times in ray's basement and me and barb, it was carved all the deeper during the amy years...

memories are a fickle friend...

take care of yourself my cyber wonders, lights of the night that twinkle in my eyes and and bring smiles to my face... your visits here deserve more respect, more praise, more appreciation than i give, which makes your light shine even brighter for me... thank you every way i can and trust that you are loved...

nite nite :)