repeat business

the later it gets, the wackier the mood, the zanier the rhetoric (except that even on the fartiest night, everyone sells out sometimes, like kissing paris hilton’s buttocks or breasts as if she is some sort of american treasure, but then, the british have their royals and many cultures have relatively meaningless distraction or figurative idol who giggles or preaches or plays a fiddle or dies on a cross or something like that…

has this blog has degenerated from it’s roots or beginnings or is it getting better?... the music is silently slipping away into the internet ethers, the undiscovered links breaking without notice, the pandering poised for oblivion… but what you came here for was not this sort of profoundly pointless drivel, you likely clicked on the link that said here, so here:

Dear Zoe,

Suffering from slow-internetitis, I am waiting for a few of your stories to open and while I do, I drop these words into your box in the hope you might find them amusing, if not stimulating (for some of us, they need to be both to be both, after all). That was not initially intended to be a double-entendre, but feel free to accept it as you wish. In my on-again, off-again supposedly daily ramblings in this loosely public forum of cyberspace, I happened upon an Aussie artist (does html work in your box?... yes, the gray words below the box tell me now that I look) who reminded me of you not simply by nationality but also because I feel certain that you understand deep down, how scary it is to be fragile in this world even as you have an amazing strength and resiliency as well and might relate to the song) because when I think of my favorite people online from down under, you always pop up (fact is, when I think of how cleverly adorable language can be or who my favorites writers are, you come to mind in both cases, but enough needless ego stroking from the fawning fan in me, I was actually writing to complain)...

Yes, I have a complaint outside of the parenthetic tangents... Look, I am even using capital I and other capital letters, which is a sure sign of the formality of this communication (even as I mock myself, cuz in the end, self-mockery is much more fun than seriousness and if we can't have fun, it's just not worth it, whatever it is)... of course my penchance for ellipses remains... penchance?... whatever... right, like, perchance, I might look it up… so much for a faux-penchant for formality… no wonder I don’t publish or have much of a following, aye?...

the mind wanders a bit as I am still waiting for my sad internet connection to open the page that might explain why I have this complaint (I’m getting to it), so you can either blame the internet speed of the ATT Aircard or accept that my adoration for you simply spills out into mindless babble at the thought of actually attempting some sort of real serous meaningful potentially lasting communication with you (as if comments can be considered real serious meaningful potentially lasting communication… but then, there’s always hope, as I always hope) simply because you are that irresistible, in the literary sense, at least…

Perhaps I should give up on waiting for the page to open and simply complain… yes, well, ok, this is my complaint… even with my tongue in my cheek, it is a real complaint… so treat it as such (which probably means mock it in public cuz you do that so well, which is just one of the things I love about your way with words, even as I digress once again thinking that it might be altogether too lame a complaint within an even more lame comment to actually be worthy of your sharp wit and scathing oratory or any sort of public association, but self-depreciation lowers expectations and reduces disappointments, you know, so consider this parenthetic aside the cost of doing business, or something like that)…

if I don’t leave you, or at least someone, at the very least me staring wide-eyed at the words wondering what-in-the-hell-is-he-talking-about at least once in my babblings, I feel like a failure, so I think I just succeeded, but then, I am rather easy to baffle… be that as it may or may not be, my complaint (in case you thought I forgot, though I do notice I am forgetting the capitals, so the loving hug and forgiveness and mockery of complaints and understanding seems to be preceding the actual complaint, which may be diminishing the effect of the point of this missive, massive or not, but anyway)…

in reflecting on my favorite Australians (and New Zealanders), I decided to link you in the entry in which I mention the sing linked above as I frequently slip random links with loose associations to my babbles into entries, as you are an example of why I love Aussies (for whatever that is worth to Australia and the world) and I discovered that all my links to your myspace pages no longer work… needless to say, I was devastated as I linked you more than a few times over the years (and not just in the porn entries)…

yes, so in conclusion, I hope to read why you made your myspace presence disappear instead of leaving it for posterity and the next grand human (or whatever species comes next on the evolutionary ladder) civilization to ponder and until then, I wish you more than well, I wish you peace, joy, happiness, and more love than you can imagine… yes, all that and a complaint too… because you are that special.

Look, a period!... I must be done :)

honest love,
me

no wonder why I never get a response, aye? (ah, could be pathetic, or perhaps a diversion?... a decoy?... a deviled egg?... weapons of mass distraction?... (oh no, not a serious part again?... what?)… but perhaps, maybe, e-gads and exit stage left, thanks to my maze-like diversions to protect privacy and secret asides (not to mention tangential parenthetic bunny hops) and the location of g-spots, unless you find your way into my eyes, you’ll never know, nyuk nyuk, narf :)