"a"(m)e=hhr(squared)

three daily blogs?... no, actually, two daily blogs and a diary… so what happened to the journal?... is the journal too personal?... to serious?... am i serious?... i am laughing, but that doesn’t mean i am not serious… why all the public writing?...

well, since i am asking, i’ll ponder an answer…

of course i want to believe that someone out there in this universe lives to know everything about me because she (or he, but i’d personally prefer a she if we’re talking about mad love, unless it’s purely platonic, if that is possible, but then, anything is possible, so whomever) is madly in love with me and lives to catch my next breath…

hey, what do you expect from a hopelessly hopeful romantic?...

any of you who are understand what i mean, if not exactly, then approximately enough (i’m not alone, just ask zoe, who is much more amusing and adept at manipulating language in her quest… she’s also much more adorable, which may or may not give her an advantage, but we can compare notes some other time for i am about to orate about hopelessly hopeful romanticism)…

to share every moment of life and whatever else is beyond life, to live and breath to be with someone because they complete the perfect sharing you’ve always dreamed of… the symbiotic relationship that life is all about… and i say that anyone who claims they do not want this lives in denial… or is blinded by wounds and scars and is afraid to hope for it… hopeful romantics are not hopelessly hopeful romantics, after all…

we are of a different core, a core that will give it all every time no matter what happened yesterday… we are the ones who are ridiculous fools for love… we sing you’ll never walk alone and the impossible dream (except we know it is possible)… we don’t just give peace a chance, we live it and share it and sometimes, get walked all over for the open sharing and giving we do… but we will not change…

not the hopelessly aspect of being hopeful… it means we are gonna be hopeful even when hoping seems like the most ridiculously foolish thing that could ever be possibly be done by anyone anywhere at any time… all we need is love is a belief system… nothing can deter us from our faith in being in love…

we are addicts, actually… addicted to the bio-chemical hormonal rush of giving on every level unconditional trust to someone, the physio-emotional changes in the brain and body when belief is unquestioned and no challenge can sway us…

it is the belief in being in love, not necessarily belief in one single individual (important distinction between those hopelessly hopeful romantics who live relatively healthy emotional lives and those who become obsessive compulsive stalkers), but a belief that there is one individual out there who matches us in every way so the idyllic falling in love can actually happen…

yeah, so that’s why, for the moment, three daily blogs, or more accurately, two blogs (brief record of daily life and babbling record of daily life and whatever else comes to mind) and a diary (the babbling he does to maintain balance, equilibrium, sanity, and world peace)… and a dozen other writing spaces find something scribbled in them at least once a week and another dozen at least a couple of times a month and still more on occasion, all forming the written gardens that share me in words when nobody is around (so every moment, even alone, the sharing can continue)…

makes sense to me…

and if it makes sense to you, then yay you… hopelessly hopeful romantics unite!... hhr is not something to be shamed or hidden away under the covers… i know there are others out there, but exposure is a challenge… people mock us… use us… abuse us… but for those who truly think it seems safer in the closet, confession is the better part of valor, or something like that… you can dream, watch it on tv or movies, have wonderful masturbatory fantasy, or you can risk it all and live the hhr (soon it’ll be the latest addition to the dsm-v) lifestyle for all you’re worth and then, (and only then) have the chance to actually actualize sharing it…

all we are saying is give hhr a chance…

so anyway, to conclude and refurbish your undying faith in my judgment (or slap some irreverent closure on yet another fanciful entry, your choice), i give you give you the latest results from the many doctors and scientists studying my brain…

from my experience with psycho-tests, even the well established ones like myers-briggs, the results can change with the weather because they are generally based on mood… taking the test a hundred times and averaging the answers would probably give more accuracy, but here was the impromptu result for this introspective weekend…



but what does it mean?...

that, my friends and all others stopping by, is for the winds of chance to whisper in your ear one quiet night when you least expect it, curled up on a couch or pillow next to me, cuz the only real way to know is to be here sharing me in time and space to come to your own conclusions…

everything else is just a two dimensional representation of what we think, feel, and imagine might be… though these days you can find three semi-different (sometimes very different) two-dimensional representations plus more, which would make six mathematically, however it doesn’t work that way once you get into the bio-psycho-physics of the literary representations and other philosophical analysis we will benevolently leave for another time so that the serious profundity can be lightened by the irreverent seriousness and ultimately, by reader’s choice, be accepted, rejected, understood or misunderstood, pondered or perplexed, or missed entirely)… some days i think more than others… other days i don’t think at all… still, every day, i babble…

and everything changes, which changes everything…

but i love you anyway, again, right now :)

get over

in the end the same is true for me and you and you and you and if you dare to doubt or fear you better make love before you're out of here or your memory will disappear... or your ego, whichever is smaller... meanwhile, all i ever wanted was to be loved...

but then, it's all so true, i really should get over myself, i mean, what's the point of all this introspective self-mocking narcissistic babble when nobody takes it seriously (oh i know you enjoy it and you take it seriously when you come to read, but i am referring to the daily life sharing partnership that two people share type of serious and we just don't go there cuz we are not there and that's simple reality which doesn't diminish your importance to me, but does remind me that there is a missing space beside me in bed each night and all the words and websites on the net combined can not fill that spacen no matter how good the fantasies might be... ahem, i was being serious, so somebody to tell me to stop laughing at myself)...

fact is, when i want to be, i am out socializing and playing with dozens of people every week and they smile and hug and call me by name and most are in my phone cuz they've called at one time or another and some call regularly... life is so much less lonely and isolated than it was during the years i lived and breathed toronto, not allowing any relationship to begin or job to get serious because i was always ready to drop everything and head to the bus station or airport (ah, the miserable idjit, as opposed to the happy idiot that jackson browne made famous and i am playing daily for a limited engagement right now)... and yet, the ideal perfectionist in me (as opposed to the ideal imperfectionist, i suppose, or is that the un-ideal perfectionist, anyway, seeks to re-weave the tapestry and find all the puzzle pieces because the threads and missing pieces are truths untold, unfinished business, the stuff of hauntings and neurosis and worse (luckily i haven't quite been there yet, but then, i'm strange that way as you may well know and guess what, this very introspective self-mocking narcissistic babble is how i stay out of the asylums and nightmares, so dangit if anything will change much here)...

where was we?... or i, being realistic for a moment, it's all about me and only i know what i am talking about and where i left off, really... i appreciate you following the bouncing ball and sonetimes making some sense out of all the words... and i don't mean every entry is incomprehensible or even that every entry contains incomprehensible stuff (though every entry does contain missed references only cuz nobody know all the references besides me, which is kind of the point of writing all this stuff out here on the web after all, so it's here when and if the one comes along, but that's another tangent proving another point and we were somewhere else at the moment so let's get back there, wherever it was)... in fact, many entries here there and everywhere have only traces of me sprinkled throughout and the theme and bulk of the words related to others cuz i love browsing life on and offline and rambling on about the abstractions my mind finds in the obsrvances... kind of like what a sunday sermon is made of, i suppose, only different...

and yes, i was mixing metaphors in the title, of course you noticed... i was musing over the missing pieces and loose threads that i find when i look at this life as a puzzle or tapestry... some damage may not be reparable and some is likely never to be repaired due to the choices of other (cuz some damage requires another or others to repair)... like i doubt amy will ever reconnect or even remember the threads torn and pieces lost all those years ago (time to dust off the old sgt pepper's cd?... so many amusing references only i get, so full on myself are these blogs, but then, what else do i have to find or create me in this life?... ahhh, how the normal humans take for granted the bonds and experiences they had and have... but then, i would not trade my awareness for their ignorance and experiences any day even if nobody ever understands just what i mean)...

the missing pieces and loose threads (and torn to shred areas) are a discomfort to me... the fact that people could care less about the interwoven tapestries they are part of in other lives (or the fact that their tapestries (or puzzles) are so damaged is a sad reflection of the lack of awareness and even more sad, in some cases chosen ignorance that is so prevalent in human culture, especially in the west (though i don't know much about the daily life intimacies of the east, i suppose)... and i like the discomfort for one main reason, because it gives me a sense of who i am (and who i might have been had i bonded more with humans and created a human personality like most all the other normal humans do and did... the moment i am comfortable with the ignorance and incomplete picture i will know it's time to shuffle off this mortal coil, or at least into the nursing home or asylum where i can do nothing but watch tv, play games, babble on, and masturbate to my hearts content until the day this body dies... get over that (pardon my laughter if you don't see the images and concepts in my head and you find nothing amusing in my babble tonight)...

and so casually i slip in a link to the map of the web world that contains the maze that would be me if someone ever helped me find all the pieces and put the puzzle back together... Aaaa, what a world, what a world... yes, and there is still some music playing in spite of the losses and time passing...

there is still magic to be found, somewhere in stacks and the trust of muses, you will find your way and i will mine and in the end, we'll find out together the true difference between life and death, really, just enjoy what you've got cuz everything changes and could at any moment... and try to relax, you'll live longer...

alrighty then

and we move along to the beautiful (and occasionally bold) babble that is the purpose of life (for the babbler, at least) and this blog seems to have been taken over, albeit only partially, as the world behind the candoor has been neglected (or at least not been heard from) for so long, it might as well have been moved here, in spite of the stated purpose of this blog to be the attempt, however futile or successful, of the author to become a human,,, perhaps we can compromise and consider the partial success in the author becoming a babbling human... or a nearly human babbler... we'll run dna tests if there's a protest...

meanwhile, in another part of the asylum (and why oh why, or better yet, however did i get away with not creating an asylum after all these years... probably because there was one back in the early days when anonanonanon had primary access to the literary megaphone and originality was more important to me than accuracy?... hmmmm, it's a possibility... thank you bugs, here, have a carrot... and if anyone hears why, thank you doc, then you are already in my head and don't even know it), i am attempting to maintain (rekindle and eventually fill in the many missing entries) the cd stacks where i simply provide you, dear avid reader with insatiable thirst for knowledge of the author, more information than any human could possibly process while still carrying on a normal life of your own somewhere far away and i shall endeavor to mention the current playlist each week or so or whenever it is updated, like now...

while at least nine cds have played in the past week (why such a low number, you might ask... well, that's the point of my mentioning it here, so have a little patience and you shall have your answers... ummmm, ok), three have been on repeat more than any others since i moved into this space... these three are lisa loeb lisa loeb, tom chapin the turning of the tide, and tom hanson everything takes forever... the first getting the most play so far, but the last being the current cd on repate as of this writing and it's my serious calling is not letting up much, so it is likely to surpass lisa as the most repeated cd since moving into this space...

all through this life i have dreamed of sharing everything as if everything could be shared in one moment and in essence, if just in shared illusion, it can be actualized, however, as everything is always moving through time and therein changing and there is always more to explore in everything in this infinite muiltiverse, the truth is that everything takes forever, which is why i will wait forever for the dream to come true and when it does, share it forever, for, truth is, to share everything, it will take forever, so... everything takes forever...

of course i may be reading way too much into tom's use of those three words and the cd may not actually be themed as i would theme it using those three words as a title, but the connection remains because i give it meaning (power, and all that jazz)... and now, of course, you will all ruish out and find the music... well, just for you, dear insatiable readers, tom has agreed to put the mp3 files on his website for your free download... of course you could support tom's effort by buying his cd, as he is one of those artists giving away his gift for free to anyone who does not ant to pay and charging substantially less than market rate for anyone who does wish to show tangible support for his continued eating and surviving to create more music... i bought it from cd baby (who loves me) sight unseen, sound unheard, and feel i got a bargain (not the best i ever had, but definitely a smile)... whatever you decide, let's give a big round of applause for tom and other musicians like him (for extra credit, someone wrote a song about his kind, was it joni mitchell or judy collins)...

yes, the layers interwoven, the games slipped into parenthetic asides, the blog of the babbler is a playful place (which may be kind of like a playground, but not so grown up human of me, aye?) and i appreciate the gift you give me when you notice and appreciate this... i am blessed with something, an awareness, an understanding, a fearlessness, something that allows me to express the myself and all this and everything in this way and doubly blessed when someone notices and triply blessed when someone appreciates it and infinitely blessed (you should see the giggles and laughter) when someone lets me know in a way that actually rings true to my ears (that almost always requires shared physical space to experience the actualization to make it shared=real)... i can count those moments on the fingers of one hand... they are moments of pure glee (and that is the most precious and rare glee of all :)

life is truly magical ...