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? :)