cha cha cha

yeah, so here i am in RealTime™ and i’m feeling lonely and yet, still not ready to call anyone up or compromise on trusting anyone enough to initiate interaction, nope, i’m still just sitting around waiting for someone (not just the one, ya see) to prove they care enough about me by acting on the caring (caring is a verb) by reaching out to me regularly in the physical world in RealTime™ and RealSpace™ right here and now (no one’s knocking at the door… do me a favor, and let her in) and all this waiting requires serious distraction so a few shrimp spring rolls are baking cuz they’ll suffice for the moment…

yeah, fuck the body, nobody wants it anyway, at least nobody i’d want to want it… and that the nobody i’d want to want it part is the catch-22 (oh, remember catch-22?... i am not remembering what catch-23 is, or whether catch-23 matters at the moment, but the memory gaps are sadly part of life more prevalent since toronto as senility seems to be a friend bearing the gift of ignorance, which may just be the bliss it was always said to be, but that may be beside the point, for now at least) keeping me in the loop that maintains loneliness and bloat and the diminished capacity of conscious awareness i’ve been living in for years now…

ah, but i am not nearly as mostly dead as this may sound (read)… i am just feeling sorry for myself cuz i am stuck in a work-loop and choosing to remain in it longer than is productive for me as a person, but the fundage is necessary because a few people are depending on me for monthly money at the moment and that needs to change before i can think about reassessing career plans and retirement plans, which should be actively on my agenda these days as this body is not getting any younger and i do not particularly want to work at some job that takes 40-60 hours a week of my waking life until i die… retirement, however, can be expensive (i know, i tried it during the nineties, after all)…

i’ve got this sense that the return of the girl from quebec (a portion of this life i tend to call toronto) has triggered a return to unfinished business that is either now interfering (or has been interfering) in the natural progression of healing and reawakening that i thought was mostly done back in 2000, but obviously was only partially done and set far back by the incident with amelia airheart (related to some extent in the original journal {of course i should be sleeping} and probably beamed out to {or down from} planet candora somewhere along the beam and maybe even touched on behind the candoor, but just maybe) and i simply gave up on the actualization of trusting someone intimately and buried that realization in the idea of trusting someone intimately (and falling in love) that became the heart of planet candora and many other writings of dreams of love… thr writing, always a sanctuary, became an escape, a replacement for the actualization of the very dream i professed to want to actualize so dearly…

scary news, aye?...

was it all a dream?... was it just a dream?

so long ago…

yeah, so the three shrimp spring rolls were not enough so i made some sun dried tomato alfredo pizza (hey, i used fat free mozzarella, ok?... ok, so of course it’s not ok, but it is just the same, so it is recorded here for posterity and you, since you might even read this one day… ah, the hormonal comforts of foods, wonder of wonders, miracle of miracles)… a fine distraction from the frustration of what i am supposed to do, which is go to bed… the rebel child may be the death of me, but i will not put him to bed too often for that would be the death of my individuality, creativity, and me within this body… so if the body dies a bit (or years) sooner because of this, at least i lived within until the body died (something i believe most humans do not do)…

and this may be the best explanation for why i do what i do that i’ve produced in years and if i am the only one who understands, that’s ok, cuz i understand… there truly is a method to what may be called my madness (as i mockingly {serious irreverence, remember?} call it so often)…

so?... lol lam cha cha cha :)

evolution

ever notice how evolution and evil douchbag almost sound alike?... well, it made some semantic sense when the christian missionary living on the streets of buffalo, new york in 1999 suggested it… yes, the homeless can engage in deep conversations… but where have you been?... wait, where have i been (who’s asking?... hello {hello, hello} and all that haunting music stuff… is there anybody out there… just nod if you can hear me… wait, nodding wouldn’t tell me anything here… yeah, do it, comment, it’s the only way… wait, i lied… you could call, there’s another way… and of course there are other ways too… write a letter, even… but this parentheses is not what i came for, so i’ll leave it now… i do want to know, though, in case you wondered… i care about you… you know my number, even if you do not know the beatles song referenced... narf too)…

hosanna hey santa, santa wanna hoe?...

nevermind, you had to be there… or here… or in touch, somehow, for real… well, you could be keeping in touch (you remember, kit?... way back ten years ago when i first started this online promise?... no need to feel guilty… no need to feel at all, really… unless, of course, you want to sleep nights without being haunted by nightmares of what you’ve done and unfinished business that is actually cruel, cruelty you are responsible for, even if you don’t really mean to be or let yourself know it consciously... the mind is a terrible thing to fool, after all, especially for the fool) over at (e)thereal where i keep my promise better than i ever have before, several times a day, even… but you don’t have to, after all, you are free to be and do as you want to be and do…

why would one person want to destroy another person, anyway?...

easy to be hard?... easy to be cold?... is that really the answer to how can people be so heartless?... everybody does it... if true sensitivity was not buried under layers of defense, pretense, rationalization, justification, and blind faith, the cruelty of everyday life would be seriously depressing... it hurts to be consciously aware in this world at this point in time because people are so far from being evolved into a truly sensitive species...

and for everybody who has no idea what i was saying or where i was going or what the previous two paragraphs are about, hi, how are you, where’ve you been, i missed you… i am keeping track of the daily activities that occupy time (and space) in the life offline i loosely call mine over in that other blog i started last year, which is why i am not here as often as i used to be, but i do miss the babbling that you used to enjoy with me here… and i do miss you, even though it might feel a little odd or even uncomfortable, maybe, to have anyone actively interacting over where i am keeping track of the mundane minutia of the details of, well, you know… it’s amazing, just a few minutes a couple of times a day and i am actually keeping a personal journal or diary that is now, in this modern electrical world, called a blog…

and we go on pretending everything is alright…

strange world we live in, after all… nobody cares about anything outside of themselves until caring outside of themselves benefits them in some way… of course this philosophy might be incorrect (or perhaps even just a tab bit cynical, aye?), because, after all, who knows what is truly right or really wrong… and why do late night commercial spokes-people scream with enormous smiles as if they are on drugs and listeners who appear nearly deaf act like idiots who will agree with them just because they are screaming with enormous smiles?... for that matter, or another matter entirely, for that matter, why do politicians and millionaire businessmen get away with things that put average individuals in jail or penniless on the street?... and why should those average individuals bail out the politicians and millionaire businessmen who drove their businesses into the ground when so many small mom & pop businesses go under every day without being noticed? (or bailed out, for that matter... and what's the matta you?)...

politics and religion are both about mind control…

so riddle me this, watusi, or you, even... if you could control another person, or a lot of people, would you make make someone or a lot of people do something they otherwise might not do or even something they have opposed doing for any reason?... what would make it right for you to do that?... and what would you do if you were the scientist who discovered the bio-chemical processes that actually explain how the brain works and in doing so, found you could manipulate the processes and influence or even control others thoughts and actions?... would you tell the government or corporation paying for the research?... and what if it already happened, who would know?...

science fiction is only science that hasn’t happened yet…

people who need people, i hear tell, are the luckiest people in the world, but that may only be when they find other people who need people cuz a people who needs people who is alone is likely to be seriously lonely and not feeling very lucky at all and yet, the power of the profound feeling could, if the people who needs people is wise and hopeful enough, be proof of life and awakeness and conscious awareness of the potential of sharing the need of people with another people who needs people and that, my friends, makes people who need people the luckiest people in the world…

and in case you want to know where this all began…

well, as much as this is the daily record of the daily events of the daily life as i live it, there is also some deeper ponderings popping up now and then and while those sort of introspective self-analysis type of ponderings would usually appear behind the candoor (and before then, candora or on downbeats, the lands of the mostly dead, just like when there wasn't time to go behind the candoor and the deeper inverted (or is that introverted?... can one be an introverted exhibitionist?... i suppose youtube is full of them, and tv, for that matter… maybe we’ve discovered the definition of celebrity… anyway… what were we saying?) thinking appeared in RealTime™ when there wasn’t time to go behind the candoor (was the repetition planned for emphasis?... oh, would that be telling, not to be confused with the telling, or the telling that sang guardian angel and other beautiful ethereal songs... but there are so many others out there, really, even before it all began, or something like that, or this, for that matter... and if you need me to draw you a map, you'll just have to stop by with the colored pencils and other map drawing tools), so even here amidst (e)thereal, beware the emo!...

or at least the links, i suppose... not to be too confused with shout shout, let it all out...

yes, ok, i confess, i am emo in (e)thereal world (at least sometimes)… and we wonder why i am still alone in this world, aye?... but the fact is that most of the (e)thereal entries are not out there in front long enough to be noticed or read unless someone is checking in there several times a day or simply keep (e)thereal open in a tab in their browser all the time and refresh several times a day (and if you did that, oh, the places we could go)…

and we wonder why i am still alone in this world, aye?... wait, was that deja vu?... did you wait?... what are you waiting for?... does anybody really know what time it is?... yeah, so anyway, i would stay awake, just to watch you breathing cuz i really don’t want to miss a thing… seriously, who else loves that way?... that much?... that constantly?... that completely?... that ad infinitum?... 42?...

yeah, reflecting is not just a habit, it is a choice too... and yeah, even the babble is (e)thereal from time to time because i am nocturnal… no matter how much i resist… and i want to love all night long (everybody, but you know, all i ever needed was the one)… the magnificent epicness of linguistic manipulations generously called writing that i do here in this babbling place might be considered a ridiculous egocentric endeavor (or merely ridiculous, nonsense, useless worthless waste of time and energy and life, even) or it might be considered a precious miracle of the mind and a priceless gift for someone or all humanity, even…

but i have confessed before that i subconsciously deliberately babble on randomly in order to let my mind free associate to free the limits of convention and education and social norms forced upon me as they are forced on everyone in our culture, but also to (apparently) bury the deeper self-news and truths about myself so deep in the rambling words that you would have to be either addicted to reading rather scatter-brained babblings like this or be extremely bored or care about me a whole lot and want to know me and what makes me tick enough to spend the time it takes to read all this and find the details between the nonsense or distractions or lines, even… or some such combination platter...

the simple answer is... sharing takes two...

no matter the question, for that matter, i mean, if the question was why am i not sharing as i want to be sharing right now, or… why am i alone in the world right now or… why am i not in a relationship right now… yes, the simple answer is... sharing takes two...

and who would ever take the time…

evolution, perhaps...

meanwhile, in the (e)thereal (and even more, offline in what we often (and perhaps ironically) call the real world), i am meeting more people every day in the physical world… it’s not all about the meetup site generated meetups, either… i am being invited to private parties and all sorts of activities more and more… people are actually showing interest in hanging out with me, though normal human social interactions are pretty limited and very superficial, so i wouldn’t go as far as saying anyone is truly showing active interest in really knowing me (who has the time, remember?)… but the knowledge is out here, from the daily (e)thereal through all the other pages (from the fraction of entryways are linked above to the thousands of pages not linked to the hundreds of books and pads and uncounted scattered pages in boxes in storage near niagara falls, no matter how slowly we turn)…

everything you want to know, and you don't even has to ask... you just need the time (time time time, it's telling you a story... and the relativity continues whether we know it or not)... sharing takes two...

and this is why i blog, especially why i public blog... i don't know why others do it, but i do see a lot of ego out there... and in my writing as well (ego, i mean, as flag or fool, easy to be mocked cuz one is the loneliest number, la la la), but for me, it's so much like buying a lottery ticket and keeping a promise rolled into one... yeah, back to the promise… promises, actually… fifteen minutes of writing about my day lets me continue the habit of sharing the details of life as i would if i was in a relationship... i promised myself i'd stay in touch with myself through words when i was i first learned how much i love and can benefit from writing... i promised others i would continue keeping in touch with them… i promised the one i’ve yet to find, the best friend or romance i've sought my whole life, that i would never stop believing she is out there and do everything i can to continue trying to find her… and while the odds are probably about the same as buying a lottery ticket, she just might stumble across my bits of babble and fall in love... the dreamer (and the one) are worth a few minutes each day :)

also, writing is a habit, i'm a writaholic... not so anonymous...

i write for many reasons, like when i feel lonely or bored... you might choose reading or other solitary activities when you feel lonely or bored... some look within, some look outside, i do a combination of both… does this make us more similar than different? (probably, but we'd have to scratch beneath the surface to know)...

in the end, the writing and the escaping does not completely satisfy me because lonely, for me, is caused by a desire to share - and not just share the solitary intellectual/emotional stimulation that comes from experiencing someone else's mind by myself (through reading or film or tv or observing anything), but it comes from the desire to share the intimacy of unconditional trust and honest love... just words to everyone i've met so far in this life, but the life i live to me... so this is why i write, because at least i am exploring me and letting me out with the hope of sharing... but even that is not enough and to be happy i must repress (or at least distract) the desire to share, supplicate (or fool) it with imaginary sharing that comes from an activity like writing, reading, or observing...

so how have you been?...

emo, or something like that

the prophetic convolutions of the residual emotional fallout of the life i’ve supposedly lived to this point in time is spreading all over the internet like a mindless fog flows out in front of a warm front moving under a heavy overhanging cold front, meteorologically speaking… humans seem to believe that they can’t help what or how they feel… i believe humans choose what and how they feel much more than most humans realize or are willing to admit and more… just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so are emotions… and the choice to acknowledge or deny emotions is ours…

this entry explores something emo and may have been presented here or elsewhere before, but here it comes now and if now is again, well, there is a reason for that and if the reason for that is not clear at this moment, it may become clear or at least somewhat more cleaer (or celarer) in time, with or without further explanation (but there probably will be more here or elsewhere, like behind the candoor, eventually)… and in fact, this is but the beginning, again… so sit back and enjoy or have your stomach turned or run away or ignore as you wish cuz ready or not, here it comes…

the drama queen rises (part one)

so am i to believe you might want to take me more seriously but you are afraid of getting closer because lost is not your thing and you don't want to see me (or anyone) die (in your arms tonight or anytime)... and is this even a question...

and from my perspective there is no attraction to bloated or unfit bodies and perhaps not even trust to be truly true friends (would i not be one or reject one based on flesh, i almost ask myself, and i almost answer, but instead, smile knowingly and giggle silently and wait a little longer for someone else to take the initiative)...

whatever the words mean, or i do, i leave them for you (or the anonymous reader) to interpret as you wish, all princess bride references aside, without true love, there is only the search for it and the momentary pleasures of life along the way...

truth is, freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose and from birth, i've been free and that has given me a perspective far different than the human norm for i've rarely found fear in my way and i find in observing and interacting with others that the ultimate fear, the fear of death, is what keeps most people apart... the fear of loss builds walls around a heart... the fear of the empty space left by the death/loss of a lover keeps many shallow or alone in bed, the fear of broken promises or betrayed trust keeps most from making promises or giving trust (and we wonder why we're all so alone feeling locked up inside our own heads)...

bringing myself back to a moment of a physical perspective 'reality', i think i could enjoy holding you and yet, i almost cry at the thought of how long it has been since i have just held anyone and then, like a good bipolar madman on the other side of the wall, laugh at myself for pointing fingers at the world for shutting me down when i know all too well that i am the boss of me and i seldom even hug because i do not believe anyone really wants to know why i might tremble upon contact and i do not trust anyone to handle me or care enough to want to enough to understand...

and sometimes, looking at you, i wonder if you will ever let yourself be as adorable as you can be ever again, knowing the power and risk that could entail... how fleeting your eye contact may be, and yet, how powerful i sense it could be, how far down inside you keep yourself, and how much treasure sleeps within, but not really sleeping, just pausing, even purring, like a cat measuring up the situation and waiting for the other to make the first move...

and you say you look at me and see a heart attack waiting to happen and i flash the film city of angels at hyper speed (because it is one more bit of human creativity that has become so much a part of my memory and representative of my psyche) and i think, i have had the same thought over the years, especially since i stopped the daily running and let the abs sag dreadfully, which is why i've taken more than one full blown stress test because the books say i have the high risk potential and yet the doctors say the stress test results say i wasted their time taking the tests because the heart in my chest was doing fine at 170 bpm even at a bloated fifty pounds over the body weight that the books would call ideal... so which book is lying - for they, being polar opposite opinions, educated professional expert medical opinions, no less - cannot both be right... and then i laugh at the wasted time because there is no point in predicting or worrying about tomorrow when all we have any control over or experience to share is today...

and what would we see if we actually stared into each others eyes?...

and how long we might pause there before running toward distraction... yes, i wonder, and i also agree/believe that i am unattractive with the triple chin and buddha belly and while only i can make the decision to remove both, i still wish i had a friend who cared enough to do whatever it might take to gain my deepest trust and inspire me to believe in someone other than myself once again, or love, for that matter, because the last time anyone has ever been there for me in a best friend capacity was probably high school...

woah, welcome to the drama queen, aye?...

and most seriously, i wonder if that is what growing up is all about, giving up the unconditional love and trust, turning off the uninhibited caring, and focusing on thinking what is best for oneself... and the common fallacy is that kids are selfish… i see people looking out for each other in the movies, friends helping each other talk about and attain their deepest desires and dreams... i've just not seen it happen in the physical reality of life...

and yet, i still believe (how many songs come to mind... something from les mis... something from phantom... something from west side story... something in the way she moves me… something from so many other artists... surely music is the fluid carrying my spirits through my souls and words are the cells forming the bodies of my dreams and as i've said so many times, i think in rhymes and feeling in melodies and wish to share all of life's harmonies {breath-taking harmonies, no less}, but sharing takes two and i've always been a one and so i wonder - will the landslide ever bring me down or will i always be a storm, stevie asks... and i hear her singing beautiful child once more)...

and you and the world went to bed long ago and here i am, hours after saying goodnight (and wondering why i don't give you a big hug when i see you because i want to show you how much i appreciate you and i used to love to hug and then i hear the answer remind me that i do not like feeling being in this bloated body and a hug provides the self-confrontation that is unavoidable for me, but that may be tmi for the moment), writing to you and to me and to anyone who might ever care cuz this is what i do, babble on, believing in hope and the chance that someone, somewhere, someday, might find the words and understand and find me someone worth the investment of their time and heart and mind...

but don't come too close, he may explode (and i wonder if that thought is too serious for laughter for you and i realize that i laugh at fear and death and life and all the seriousness and worries that most people seem to consider the norms... meaning no disrespect, but merely coming from a very child-like {perhaps childish, though i don't think so} perspective that means no harm and simply wants to enjoy sharing the moment as much as possible)...

would you care to see me in other ways, i wonder... for the game nights are when the hedonist comes out to play most (though definitely chaste and asexual these days due to in part, respect for human norms and professional conditioning and very personal burns that may still want a shower of tears and reassurances just to prove it really happened and how deeply feelings can be felt and i am alright and how foolish a heart can be when it does not grow up like everybody else... but people only watch soap operas, few (if any) actually want to actually be part of them, actually, not even actors... though i am amused at the thought)...

you are not too preachy at all... maybe too guarded for your own good, too ready to push away trust and intimacy that transcends the flesh and makes the complexities of dating, sex, and the mating games ridiculously small in comparison to the bonding that can be... but then, i know i am a dreamer (no maybe about it) and i definitely hope i'm not the only one...

sometimes i want to sit back and smoke a few bowls of some serious thc or something and set off on a spiritual journey through a sweat cave or some profound physical challenges that have been the subject of some powerful classic and new age books... and sometimes i believe that is all the stuff of the x-files and there's no way to find reality by escaping it...

it has been a very long time since i took an extended vacation...

and these days my thoughts of sharing intimacy involved resting with someone in my arms and falling asleep and waking up and needing nothing more for the moment... and i laugh at myself for the naivety of the thought and realize that an erection {and ejaculation} would likely present itself as it does most every night and yet what i want so much more than sexual satisfaction is the emotional trust the physical trust and shared intimacy that is not lead and guided purely by hormonal surges… and maybe i am the strange male of the species or too sensitive for my own good, but for me, there is so much beauty and value and magic in honesty and innocence and trust and have i rambled on too much?…

and i laugh at myself as i realize how often i do this, meaning pouring myself into words, thinking aloud through the fingers and keyboard (for decades i did it through paper and pen and once, the purist thought that handwritten experience could never be replaced)… and i have put so many compositions like this one on the web for anyone to see because i want opinions and feedback and reflections (and how rarely i get any, alas, for i think naked hearts and exposed psyches so often scare people into silence)…

maybe i should just pause here and let myself nod off :)

jingle bells

this was the RealTime™ plan from thereal earlier tonight (link included in case you doubt my veracity and happen to have qa wet noodle you want to swing around cuz you don’t actually need to click this time as i am cheating again and including the thereal entry below, with the possibility of slight embellishments just cuz i can and it’s fun and it keeps us on our toes and drives editors bananas and bananas are good for you and me and editors too)… i really did intend to fall asleep and almost did, nodded off a few times sitting here, but then, well, a few other entries can tell that tale… meanwhile, this was the plan just hours ago in RealTime™…

and the excitement continues to…

build?... oh, such fun it is to ride and slay me, and as predicted, i am home early and the very act of leaving work early and having five days off (not counting the on-call status that could make life miserable with work at a moment's notice, but we won't think about that, ok?) in a row has me bouncing off the walls in spite of feeling like a recently stuff shrunken head (maybe we bounce better than the big empty heads, aye?)...

yes, so home and nothing to do for days (notice there are no plans on the calendar?... that's right, i intend to sleep... that's what santa is bringing me this year, and he promised, sleep sleep sleep... i'm gonna fall alseep sooner or later after this wired-to-the-rafters feeling wears off (and i only had one cup of tea the remove the zombie curse at 8am) and i will pass out and not acknowledge the existence of the world outside of my head until i wake up due to natural causes...

at least that's the plan... and i'm so excited i can hardly sit still... go figure (i am so easily self-amused... how could i not love me?)... i hope you find wonders and excitements in your own way (and mind) and thank you for the phone calls and text messages - you are really out there caring... i mean, i know, but it is so sweet to find the words on the screen or in my pocket :)

celebrate you! :)

as you see by the RealTime™ date stamp (for this entry at least), the plans may have been best laid off, cuz they sure didn’t work… someday, somebody just may quote that colloquialism and below the words will be the name unknown, but we’ll know better, won’t we my little pretties?... and our little dogs too…

keep the faith, a dozen entries will be your santa day present this year… watch for them coming soon to a blog or diary or journal or writing space near you… it’s a night for snuggling, so snuggle up… those of you who are alone and who have not learned to hug yourselves, please learn, life is so much more wonderfully fun that way…

seriously, it is :)

repetition is flattery, flattery is cheating?

so using reverse psychobable on myself, i return from a comment behind the candoor to present a future entry made of past substance and much nothingness just like in the beginning when exploration was more important than meaning and abstraction lead to wherever it got me...

or something like that...

wow, both of you from the snail mail days... and sadly, i do not have the last letters you wrote to me (not being able to pick up where i left off so rarely happened to me in this life before the late nineties and i still have not completely adjusted or accepted the permanence of the disconnection cuz, well, after all, who knows better than you two that i am a dreamer, aye?)...



no matter what thought, i am so glad and feel so lucky that you both found me again... the threads of the tapestry of this life have been so frayed for so long, after all... and speaking of hard to find, in a very real world way i am hard to find the way peter was hard to find in hook, but the inciteful kid did find him when he squeezed his cheeks together a few times and looked deep into his eyes... and the child shall lead, obviously...



does anybody really know what time it is, or what the multi-layered meanings in my babbling truly really means?... what have i said about anything anytime, after all... even the shadow mayb have never known, abd where is he now and where does that leave us?...



meanwhile, as for finding me, i always thought i was as easy to find as the pink elephant in the china shop, what with blaring my nonsense and such and such all over the internet in the most public of places... but for the quickest trip to the space before my eyes, i am at (e)thereal daily these days... several times a day, sometimes... i finally revved up the daily diary journal blog discipline and there it is, brief and to the point, sometimes, not much like this comment, but then, this comment is not there, is it?... no, it is here in the depths behind the candoor where the babbling may have peaked once upon a time between the blinding fear-filled pastries of exploding dreams and crushed hopes and the massive recovery and rebuilt transmission parked between my ears on the way back to the euphoria of being me i am slightly feigning today...



what?...



yeah, so anyway, i am still mind-dumping at realtime and less often, here, behind the candoor, where the internet provided an escape from the dreams beamed down from planet candora and the almost return to everyday consciousness that the original live journal where candor could be anyman's (or everyman's... or womans' for that matter, just ask jackson browne) once emerged...



so then, with the demise of bellsouth in the jaws of att and the corruption of the yahoo password due to the confused cookies crumbling all over the once proud internetm so i moved my main email, for when i respond to email, to candoor AT gmail DOT com...



and all those those websites where i can be found mostly sometimes, though there's not been much time for the second and third more babbly places lately and i still have a love-hate-ambivalent feeling about email, but this redundancy may be less useful than it appears... so maybe i blog for the sense of safety that comes from public exposure (lately i've been asking myself why i blog a lot cuz someone who may become a new friend, the first in many years, asked me and i don't have a completely satisfying answer (and isn't that the sign of the potential for a friend by my definition {and isnt that an old familiar phrase}, the inspiration to search for the perfect, or at least a completely satisfying answer to a question... to dream the impossible dream, after all, and still i do it my way la la la)...



anyway, perhaps just for the webmazement of it all, or simply the ego trip, i casually announce the existence and paths to more websites i babble and rhyme at are listed at more blogs and crossroads, but i don't have communication set up on most of those places...



and whatever the reason, finding me, i suppose, cuz that is what i want, really, even if it is a playful game of hide-n-do-seek game most of the time, there is always the po box and phone are on several of my websites, including this one and myspace and facebook where the whole world can search to find me (and if i am lucky, more people who knew me way back when will find me... actually, to find me, just put my name in google :)



meanwhile, in another part of the mind...



34. lately, i eat myself out of the plane of consciousness where my awareness belongs.



35. this has been going on for a long time.



36. time is still relative.



yes, and then, after lapsing into the midst of yet another of the many 101 things lists i was making to try on the norms of the blog world some time back, i emrge stuffed with nuts and fruits and ridiculousness that, when peeled away, might be the foggy laughter hiding depths of meaning so profound, there is no one on earth ready, willing, or able to succumb to it's power and still maintain their independent composure, whatever all that means...



there was a frog that represented something entirely different that may or not have meant anything important that related to anything... and in the end, i must do it to remain alone, for that is the result and on virtually every level of consciousness, the end does explain the means, even when it does not justify it...



love saved, loved gaved, loved living, love giving, and some accept, and some receive, and some just take, and some just give... where is that precarious balance, after all is said and done?... perhaps in the fun, which is all the girls and boys want to have, after all, most of the time... so carry that weight a long time boy, cuz nobody's gonna do it for you... it's life, and you're on your own out there...



which is why i come here (to the garden of the madhouse?)… i can be myself here, which is ever changing anything that the moment might inspire, but it’s still me, all i can be, the chameleon waiting for the partner so the relatively fixed point in space can be chosen and connect with another relatively fixed point to form a line, which would really be a never ending series of spiral whorls formed by two freely moving bodies finding their mass, in close proximity, influencing and altering their orbits, floretting, even, exponentially like a helix painted by Fibonacci or fermat or archimedese, even, ever wandering wondering around the fractalosity of the moment … but enough hyperbole, i mean, before we step down to the level of the magic fart (what was that about squeezing cheeks together mentioned earlier?... oh but then again {and again and again and again and} we all know the real magic was found in semi-classical literature and not even the xian dynasty or in many Galician petroglyphs such as the one in Mogor, even, can explain the last few references…



so we can just enjoy the show…



pause to nod off :)

long lost in libboland

alright, the music plays and sets the tone, the feeling comes from deep alone where sirens sing in monotone and passions are all that we own… of course the most serious sort of beginning can (and generally ought to, from my perspective) bleed into irreverence, if just to keep the balance but also, to amuse and maintain a happy playful experience in the whole reality, big picture, you know)… but seriously, sex sells so never ever give it up if you want to be a real part of this world…

of course you can choose to be a tree… or even, a shrubbery!…

speaking of burning bushes, i have decided that vanessa hudgens has a seriously mouth-wateringly adorable mouth on the cover of her cd, which is the only reason i own a copy, cuz even though i know too well that a single photo does not describe (even visually) the appearance or attractiveness for someone’s face for me, in this one photo her mouth soared into the top ten of the list (you remember libbo, dontcha?... i mean, i’m not actually dead yet, ya know?) and her nose leaped into the top twenty-five, maybe higher… i could easily drool while inspired by a mouth such as that… and while she’s settled back in the pack a bit (on libbo’s list), any of the top hundred mouths produce hormonal eruptions throughout my brain (and puckers too)… i think she takes me back to the first lips i ever kissed, though the memory is as much ethereal as physical as it was at a very young age, nursery school, actually, but the imprint of the look still ignites my ardor (come on baby light my fire, baaybee… wait, who let austin powers in here?)… and suddenly, i overwhelmingly wish to acknowledge the fact that i miss kissing…

just one more tid bit about me you may not have known before brought to you by the unpacking of yet another bag of cds and piling them into yet another semi-random cd stack… you never know where the music will take me… or the bags, for that matter… imagine when i start unpacking the boxes…

her lips seduce me with a pout
and her smile calls my heart out
her face is framed within my dreams
but it may come as a surprise
i’d say no thanks if she asked me
to come between her thighs
for what i see when i look up
is too much ego in those eyes

ok
so maybe i’d say yes between her thighs
come on guys…
but as far a soul mate i think
there’s too much ego in those eyes

the top of libbo’s list (i mean libbo’s eyes, in case this has not made sense to you yet… and if it still doesn’t well, you can sign up for the remedial course when you catch up with me) have the eyes that melt me best, in case you wondered… the top five have been up there for more than a few years, actually… though there is always a chance for someone new to slide into the top ten and even higher cuz, after all, there’s always hope and the one is number one for libbo too… and i mean, you never know when someone who might actually be interested in getting physical with me might be stopping by to dive into these words and hopefully they stumble upon an entry like this one where i provide easy access to the bios and specifically, what it takes to get me in the mood (30’s) in the sack (50s) hot and bothered (70s) to wanna jump your bones (90s) and so on…

language changes over the years, but it is still the same old story after all…

holiday message (part one)

the ridiculous seduces the sublime and they have several children, three of which grow up to write this next two part blog entry behind the candoor, but the twist for a change is that instead of bringing RealTime™ to the babbler for playful expansion and random asides, the babbler brings the children here to expose themselves and celebrate the birth and death of two of my holiest heros, harry and john, and the legacy of memories they engraved in my mind, which may have little or nothing to do with the post itself, but still the timing was right so the following holiday message (now in three parts, at least) was (now were) prematurely created long after the original sin that became the greatest secret (and fiction) the world has ever known…

what i mean is... whoever be so bold as to believe they understand must either be in my head or in my bed or just lucky i guess, cuz this particular story starts out goes something like this... i mean, what i mean is… i have watched you take shape from a jumble of parts and i see in your form the potential for art and i would like to sculpt you with my own two hands without concern over who or what understands... but the sensual pleasures that human beings fear create walls of repression and graves of despair and the people lay down like lambs lead to the slaughter cuz, for example, no man will admit ever feeling the hots for his daughter or some budding young sexual flower still so firm and fit and pure innocently exploring her sexuality (unless drunk or drugged to the point where inhibitions dissolve and true feelings are told)...

and then we feign shock: omigosh, a serious statement, controversial, no doubt… (instructions: stare blankly into space while cleaning navel, appear genuinely surprised by the lint, play with it a few moments, smile and stare at the camera, reader, audience {cuz they’re such a lovely, after all}, walk away passively, {optional ending: continue}, thank you for following these instructions)… must be past bedtime or something i ate… ordering the food thai hot may have been a mistake, aye?... thigh hot?... (brief commercial interlude: hot thighs?... ring slim jim, 407-555-sexyway for your remedy, offer not available in conservative states), but we’ll get to thighs later, right now we’re on to the great secret of humanity, the fear of sex… yes, the pretense that sexual desire must be kept under wraps, under covers, secret…

idiots…

of course i mean no offense… naturally that was written more or less tongue-in-cheek… more or less… obviously cuz i mean no harm or insult… truthfully just stating the facts, ma’am… seriously (what?... where did all the commas go?) the hypocrisy (of the human love-hate {read: fear} relationship with sex) is the basis of every marketing campaign from religion to soap, from politics to candlesticks... fear of sex is the basis for all the big religions (and many of the small ones, even cults, cuz ultimately, {potable quotables coming up} religions are distractions from real life and religion is something to do to avoid playing with your genitalia, you know) and most of the laws of most nations…

popular culture is similar, you’ve see it (unless you are blind, in which case, perhaps you’ve felt it)… every-day cartoons tease children and adults alike with young nubile bodies dressed in skimpy cartoon costumes, kids and teens casually showing panties and bulges all so innocently, as if nobody is noticing, are all the rage… and from the dawn of time, in spite of the occasional public outcry, the same public clamour for tits and ass in spoken and written stories and more recently, in television and movies... i wonder how different it would have been if men were not in charge…

anyway, as i might have repeated before it happened, the scene moves from the ridiculous to the sublime (and their kids play with it)… this idiocy of human fear dominates the landscape of human behavior… when it comes to the human body people seem to demonstrate one of the most suicidal aspects of humanity (and the most obvious hypocrisy to me, but then, that could just be my perspective, after all), even more so than the golden rule bullshit or the rest of the holier than thou platitudes humanity uses to put others down (and kill things, especially each other), but overlook when it comes to living up to them themselves...

yes, the whole concept of sex freaks people out... no wait, i am still serious (why are you laughing?... you’re not laughing?... eeek, am i in trouble, mom?)… jails are full of confused people who chose not to control their own hands and actions cuz they never grew out of or learned to control childhood or adolescent sexual urges and fantasies... mostly because too much irrational fear and repression creates psychological disorders and maladaptive behaviors… psychiatric hospitals are filled with children who are condemned for life, labeled and drugged for exploring their natural curiosity... people kill each other (and themselves) daily over sex... it is really quite sad, pathetic, cruel, and a waste...

so don't do it...

that's right, you heard me, don't do it... just say no to abstinence… don't be afraid of your body... it is your body… touch yourself... seriously, start touching yourself now… right now… play with your genitals... rub your fingers all over your skin, all over your body... find the spots that tickle, that annoy… find those places on your body that feel so good you are afraid and suddenly pull your hand away, then go back there slowly and say, loud as you please, fuck you fear, it's my body and i'm gonna make it feel good...

that’s right… say it… do it… feel it… caress it… stroke it… rub it… enjoy it…

and then do it with your friends...


go ahead, we’ll wait…



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isn’t that better?...


now you can enjoy part two of your gift…

holiday massage (part two)

that was my holiday message (the previous entry, which is technically the next entry in this blog, chronologically, but it the entry above this entry when viewed in this blog, so it was uploaded as the next entry, chronologically, not to confuse, but to give you the best chance of actually reading part one before part two because it is important to get all the parts in the right place in order to achieve maximum pleasure…

and this is too, the holiday message that is, though i was not referring specifically to the message in the bottle above (we'll get to that in a minute), my gift to you... and as you may recall, if i mentioned it, and if i didn’t i am mentioning it now, aren’t i, so later you may recall that i mentioned that one of the images in this two or three or more part entry is my current holiday desktop photo and i am getting to that, but first comes your gift, all this encouragement to play with yourself, to turn yourself on, to share your good tidings... comfort and joy, joyousness, even… emphatically stated: permission to orgasm granted!

give yourself a holiday a massage...

and chocolate... feel free to rub chocolate on it and lick it off... or have someone else lick it off… surely you can find someone willing to help you out… even if you are not surely… whipped cream, ice cream, whatever feels and tastes best for you or your helping tongue... use your imagination… you do still have an imagination, don’t you?... come on, you know it’s in there… i see you smiling… and don’t be ashamed, maybe you still believe you need alcohol and drugs to loosen up and feel comfortable in your skin, well, then by all means, until you find you can relax and enjoy life without it, drink up, smoke up, tune in, turn on, and drop your drawers... show us your true colors... kick up your heels and wrap your legs around a friend...

or a tree… ever wish you were a tree?...

ok, so i jest, sort of, but what do you expect?... and i am serious about enjoying yourself, but i mean, just look at all these words, these entries, these messages in these internet bottles called posts or entries… and speaking of messages in bottles, did you see the message in the bottle in the image that opened this entry?... really?… what did you see?...

if you saw two people, you may be too far gone to understand half of what i’ve ever said, alas, but you can still enjoy life in your own warped way even if you are misunderstanding most everything and even if you are offended by all the innuendos and asides… i dare you to show the photo to a very young child… the fact is, most young children, if you haven’t exposed them to a whole lot of sexual images, will see dolphins… that’s right, dolphins… at least nine dolphins… possibly ten… maybe even eleven if they are truly innocent and have excellent visual acuity… maybe you can see them now… look again and try, cuz it’s kind of like a purity test…

laughter will not make you any more pure or innocent you know…

but you still might be somewhere inside… somewhere down deep… somewhere in your most clever wishes of your pre-corrupted youth… somewhere before you were jaded by human culture… somewhere, like in your heart, where you want to be harmless and good and kind and precious and wonderful and most of all, harmless… that part of you that still tears up when you hear xmas music (and i don’t mean the religious indoctrinations, but the simple feeling of wanting to give and share smiles and hugs and wonder and trust and love (yes, and joyousness too)…

and you might not believe it, but you still can feel it… the wonder and excitement of uninhibited ecstacy, of the exhuberant feeling of pleasure of being alive… the feeling that simply makes you want to leap up and spread your joy and share your happiness with the whole world… go a head, reach down deep… believe it is still there… trust yourself to find it, to feel it… nurture it… let it out… feel it well up inside until you can only release it through passionate embrace or at least bursting forth in a physical explosion… a hug for the whole universe… come on, go ahead, spread your arms, your legs, your heart and mind… show us your love… show us your heart… show us your panties… kick up your heels and jump for joy…

well, you think the holiday message was over, did you?... the gift… your gift… the wonder… your wonder… it is all yours to open and play with… reach out and touch it… you can, you know you can… and you can because you are free to enjoy yourself in the comfort of your body and if you have one, or a few, with your friends… your passion for life is irrepressible when you see it right before your eyes, when you truly feel it deep inside, so let yourself feel it, reach out and touch it, you know you want to…

and if you are still reading, then there is still hope for you to see the dolphins… and ladies, if you call yourself ladies, especially very heterosexual gals… please know that i have not forgotten you straight females out there… one of these days i may wrap up a holiday package of words and most masculine images for you, but this is the holiday package and, after all, these end-of-year holidays are supposed to be bright and gay, after all… oh giggles, and all puns aside, i mean they have a feminine touch to them at their heart… dontcha understand?... i hope so…

and hopefully you can enjoy this one until that muscular one, aka the long hard one, comes together cuz you can, if you want to, for the amusement alone, if not the erotic pleasures of your body… but do express the intimate pleasures of your body all you please for whomever you please, yourself especially… that’s the point, after all… you did get the point, right?...

and on the other hand (yours or whomevers feels right tonight), you might be (hopefully are) comfortable and encouraged to be free to be you enough to already be playing with yourself happily right now (got a web cam?) and need no disclaimer or apology and if that is the case, yay and jump for joy all over again (panties optional) and embrace yourself and your best friend and your lover and anyone you want to embrace because, agter all, a hug is a terrible thing to waste and truly is, a hug that is, one of the most wonderful experiences you can have in this life…

and now, part three of this holiday gift await…

reverse psychblogogy (part three)

this is part three of your holiday message, or massage, if you are wise and following instructions… but remember, it is important that you fit the parts together just right for maximum satisfaction, so be sure to read and experience part one and two, preferably in that order, before coming again to part three… and i do hope you are coming again, because if you are not, you missed the whole point and certainly have issues following instructions… so part two is here and part two is here…

come back after you’ve come there…



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now, hopefully you’ve all experienced a hug in this life, and not a one-armed wrap-around puckish hug… i mean a full out two armed wrap yourself around someone squish-with-all-you’ve-got kind of hug… sadly, few humans remember how to do that after puberty… some hormone must destroy the best of the memory cells or something… but it is not impossible to remember how and certainly not impossible to actually do it, so do it… reach out and hug someone right now…

remember when i asked you if you ever wanna be a tree?... well, you may have already answered, but i didn’t… no, i really didn’t and if you read the parts in order you’d know that… and if you did not get your parts in the right place, well, then you only have yourself to blame if you do not feel fully satisfied or in any way uncomfortable…

the fact is, the first tree hugger does nothing for my tree-wanna-be-ness… but ask me again now and i will unequivocally respond without a doubt and in all certainty i do, and i do every time i see this photo above… if you happen to see this girl, please send her to me at once… but we digress (regress?), no less, and the tree is so innocent, how could you possible find the photo a turn on… perverts, every one of you…

and you should be dang proud of yourself too…

so this brings us to my holiday desktop photo (oh really?)... and no, it was not the jump for joy in the previous entry (i am so shocked you would think so), nor the adorable hugger above (though you will send her right over if you happen to bump into her in the forest or anywhere, right?)… actually (seriously), i am considering asking the artist for permission to use the photo (the desktop holiday photo) for my holiday cards, but it's probably too late this year, so maybe next year... if i ever send holiday cards, that is...

ah, but don't let the irreverent tease deceive you, i have mad respect for her… i first discovered the artist when she was a little nip of a lass that could be bounced on your knee (figuratively bouncing, of course)… her prose and poetry drew me into her magical mind and then, i saw her creative photographic images and then, actually saw her and her eyes and fell in love visually as well (as if a literary crush wasn’t enough for me)… you can read all about it somewhere in the archives behind the candoor or even as far back as planet candora… but leave us not let puerile fantasies distract us from sexual liberation…

this is, after all, a sincere attempt to enlighten you poor human folk who are so afraid of your bodies that you find ways to distract yourself, like condemning others not afraid of their bodies and killing in the name of your gods... or watching tv… you need to know that, right from the start, you’ve been fed a pack of lies that are based on fear of nudity, fear of your body, and they’ve massively screwed you up... get over it, please, before you kill us all...

and you do have permission, by the way (see above) and not just mine... you’ll be happy and relieved to know that i personally spoke to jesus and allah and buddha and mo on your behalf, they all agreed that you should stop all this fear of sex crap and get on with the pleasure of life...

so now that you can comfortably play with yourself without fear or recrimination (these people died for your right to love and forgive and play with yourself, remember), we come to the part of this entry where we finally get to my holiday desktop photo… many photos vied for the position and someday perhaps i will present all the runners up, but for the moment without further ado as you see just below these words, we now present the 2008-2009 holiday desktop photo…

note the carefully placed holiday lighting to appear so casually laid in places, to highlight, yet not expose too much of the holiday spirit... note the unplanned, mostly unpacked ambiance of the scene... and the mystery… is she sitting, squatting… is she on a bed, a stool, a chair… the dark hides the secrets, the light invites your imagination to wonder… doesn't the image get you in the holiday mood?... dontcha feel like peeking behind the curtain?... maybe you’re ready to start your own unwrapping now…

thank you oodles to the artist (and her gift of visual play, literary expression, and sense of humor)… someday i will sit her on my lap and tell her stories of ulysses or clinton, or something like that…

good night, my little flower children, go forth and spread your seed…

and later in the evening

the musical flavors continue to amuse my auditory taste buds as i work my way through the cd stacks as i unpack the bags of sounds and the semi-randomness of words flit through the synapses invigorating the spirit/soul/anima thing, the ethereal me, as only songs can... even with thousands of recordings up in storage for years and hundreds left behind and stolen over the years, there are still many stacks piling up around me as i find more and more bags of sounds as i gradually (and ever so slowly) unpack (i might be completely unpacked by the time it is time to decide where to move next at the end of this year's lease, but hopefully a bit sooner if i decide to change life around something majorly)...

as i forgot a title a couple or few entries ago, i forgot the whole entry over in (e)thereal tonight, but it was remembered (though something was lost in translation) and so the flowology of the daily moments blending together in thereal continues even as they fly by faster than anyone can keep up (even me?... maybe... i wouldn't know unless someone tried for a while, after all)... ah, the old story, can't tell how fast i can go until someone passes and inspires me to want to catch up... would be a very different perspective for me...

until then, pass the chocolate mousse and fudge sticks and don't forget the chocolate shake... though we skipped the shake tonight, being that the windows are open and it's dropping down to winter temperatures tonight... luckily, i finally bought myself a comforter and the last few nights has been an interesting experience consciously and unconsciously (and subconsciously as well) cuz the body has survived the same year-round temperature changes with no more than a sheet for many years... must be weird on the inside these days...

see, this blog is not completely babbling, cuz, after all, the curtains have opened behind the candoor once again and so the babbler has a home there, so there's less compulsion to take over this bit of web space... could be an identity crisis will be (or perhaps already is based on the changes to the opening introductory descriptive stuff up top and on the right sidebar) happening around here as the human experiment seems to have been having some success, in spite of the scoffing and laughter from the peanut gallery who still think the hero will win in the end and more to the point, that this body will respond as it always did before yesterday when it was young when i finally decide to kick it back into high gear, my gear, oh dear, why fear, just cuz the normal human dies at that energy level beyond a certain age and i have gone so far in becoming what passes as a normal human, i think, but then,. that's my perspective for you and i don't have any other to reflect upon these days...

what?... yes, so anyway, the weekend is just about over... this stupid system of working at tasks that are distractions from the purpose of living for five days a week and then trying to unwind and relax and remember what living is about for two brief days and by the time you just may be getting a fleeting glimpse of yourself and what your life is really all about, it's time to get back to working at those distractions... is really stupid, actually...

but then, the owners believe that the slaves would go crazy or something if they were permitted the time to really get in touch with themselves and each other, so the system is set up to keep us all so busy worrying about other stuff that we never even realize we are slaves manipulated by the owners...

the owners probably are right, but that does not make them right...

of course they've got all the moral righteousness and rules and laws and stuff on their side cuz they wrote the books, after all... and god, let's not forget the god they invented to keep us in our place... luckily i am not read much, so i probably won't be noticed or considered any real threat to their power cuz the fact is, if they erased every small voice crying out in the wilderness, then sooner or later they'd slip up and leave some trail of their deeds and the buzz would start and a second coming of a rebel without a cause could upset their apple carts just enough to make them adjust their glasses or actually have to reinvent the wheel as they have a few times in human history and most of them want no part of that task...

did i disclaim the babbler's presence here earlier?... oh, how he delights to prove me wrong, aye?... and the peanut gallery dance and sing ha ha naa naa nyuk nyuk narf... cuz that's their favorite song of celebration for the moment... i suppose it would be quite an unruly world if everybody started getting into themselves and contemplating the meaning of life and letting their peanut galleries start singing their favorite songs of the moment... but then, chaos is the natural order of the universe, even if humans pretend that is beyond their comprehension at this time...

i do appreciate you being round, by the way, even if i write as thought you are not there and nobody's home and it really doesn't matter cuz the fingers have minds of their own and the babbler babbles in an apparent social vacuum... your strength and fortitude and dedication and loyalty and understanding that finds some reason to stay and respond now and then is a credit to your brain, you should know, and you heart too... i suppose i write as if i am not here just as much, as well, even...

so it is later in the evening and i am going to sleep soon and i just wanted to release some of the stuff floating around the grey matter, for whatever it may be worth outside of the head... may you be amused or at least feel like you did not waste your time reading... feel good about yourself and your continued recurring nightmares or visits to this humble human lair, you are amazing...

not everybody recognizes genius, after all...

nyuk nyuk narf :)

napped and woke (obviously)

i supposed the word napped, being in the past tense, infers that i woke, unless of course the word is used in such a way to state i did not wake from my nap, such as napped and never woke again or died while he napped, which could make the claim of obvious inference an assumption, but then, we are bored if we are slicing the language that thin (grammar nazi in the house?)... did anybody say obvious inference?...

yes, well, obviously i am awake again (again with the obviously, is anything really obvious?)... even more to the point, i am bored... a dream woke me, which makes the second time in recent memory, probably the second time this year and longer, and it was another less than pleasant dream, another violation of personal space and privacy situation... a homeless guy with obvious (ahem) provocation issues was using a similar physical passive aggressive approach as the guy in the other dream that woke me... in either case, it was legal battery, however the police tend to overlook it and respond only if the victim reacts in a more aggressive manner, which most victims of passive aggressive physical battery do... the law is so chauvinist and warped for man's preferences and weaknesses that it's virtually worthless unless severely violated... but that's another story, obviously... i wonder if the concept of the dream is borne of repressed memories of some childhood abuse returning to haunt me... r/o ptsd?...

who knows if i am serious... your punishment for not being right here next to me is i never tell... until i tell, obviously, but then, sometimes i just don't want to tell cuz it's more fun to keep secrets... there's got to be something to make it worth it for the one to actually want to be next to me instead of living life somewhere else and just being the one ethereally, right?... oohhhh. am i getting like some sort of serious or heavy or deep tonight or something?...

whatever, it's night time now and my circadian rhythm wants me to stay awake all night and do something fun... since the world is pretty unanimous about sleeping all night (except where commercial incentives are present, like vegas, for instance), i am alone again and from the human standpoint, naturally... thank you gilbert o'sullivan...

yes, so it is night and i just woke we've established that, i suppose, so i suppose it is becoming obvious?... obviously?)... i thought i might sleep through the night, but that dream woke me (rare second time in the past month, aye?... maybe it really is time to get my head shrunk?... but who could possibly handle that task around here, or anywhere for that matter... the line forms at the door) and i want to share, play, do something fun, party, or something like that... but i am alone, as usual for this century, so i write...

did you see my latest quotable personal bio-wisdom?... it's at the bottom of (e)thereal and balances the concept of the patheticness of the life online syndrome with patheticness of the vegetative tv zombie syndrome and offer's my alternative... i fill the web with words when all the world's asleep cuz no one stays awake with me (peter, john, james, or anybody, ya know?) and rather than sleep more than necessary alone, i do what i love to do nobody is around, i write... it's the next best thing to sharing, after all (obviously?... well, it is obvious to a writer, and i don't mean just published writers, i mean anyone who knows or has felt the draw of words {get it?... draw words?} , the urge for literary expression, the compulsion to write... maybe it's something in the social genes or maybe it's a synaptic loop or some other explanation that would make sense to those who require rational reasons for everything, but for those of us who write, we know we don't have to know or understand, we just do it)...

the written language is a relatively recent phenomenon, after all... i mean, just a few thousand years, probably much less, and along about four hundred years ago languages were still just forming in europe and as far as this usa english i use, it's what?... probably less than a century old, so we are pioneers creating written language as we use it... heck, my peculiar brand may be something historians will refer to as a major change (downfall, perhaps, but then, who knows) in the written language of humanity, or at least for usa english... but there i go with those darn delusions of grandiosity again... silly boy, the rock's been perched up there for a hundred thousand years...

so i just came by to wave hello in case you were up late too and wanted to talk... i mean anybody, not just the one...not that i want to talk on the phone, cuz my brain definitely wants to play much more than the phone can offer, so if you call please expect me to be playing something else on the net or in physical space while you are on speaker... the phone is definitely too restrictive for the hands and especially if i must hold it to an ear... but i'll never know when some nearby neighbor stumbles across my babbles and decides it is finally time to knock on the door, even after midnight...


...pause to anticipate the eerie chills of a knock...

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no such luck, alas, of course, naturally, obviously, we live within human rules, after all... but i am out here waving at you anyway, so if you understand, you can drop a few words of support and whatever any way you'd like, or just smile and let me know we exist after midnight, even if the human rule says all god's children should be home in bed, chaste and pure and fast asleep... i am obviously on the wrong planet...

this is the real, my way... especially on a day off where vegetation took precedence over any other activities... you know, here i sit so all alone, nobody to talk to, a silent phone, or something like that... i wrote it in my infancy, for the few who might remember... whippoorwills must be about tonight (as are understatements, aye?... thanks for caring)...

wow, sarcasm, but was it obvious?...

how about my laughter?...

i am so dang independently secure (yeah, more than ever) that i suck at this lonely days stuff even when i am feeling a profound bout of the lonelies drowning me... i just imagine growing gills and swimming around with the fish and whatever else might be under the sea... the weightlessness of under water life would be a great relief from gravity, actually... but i am lonely, dammit, lonely as i've ever been (and as a few of you may know, i have been powerfully lonely in this life)... i don't feel as mostly dead as i used to though, so the lazy pity party isn't coming, just the silly babble pretending there's no way out of some imaginary death-trap deep dark abyss of depression or something (ever wonder what lives in the black holes?)...

but somebody must hear me and understand and be feeling alone like this... maybe i am just not reaching enough of the seven billion people on the planet... obviously, but even more obviously, i am probably not beaming my personal energy and identity into space for the other planetary peoples to find... but i don't get invited to the interplanetary parties much anymore... they must have taken my depressive whining seriously or something and mistaken me for a human... omigosh, what have i done?... no wonder i feel like a who on this planet shouting out i am here i am here i am here over and over again... where's my horton when i need him?... a space horton, obviously...

so what else is new?... maybe i'll wander down for a rare trip to the gym (after being off work for six days, i decide it might be a good time for a 2am visit to the gym on the night i am to return to work... can there be any more obvious signs of the rebel-child being alive and kicking in me?)... yeah, i am obviously going through a phase that few have experienced with me, i think... the child inside is testing the limits again and it gets more dangerous with each passing year... does anybody care, he silently ponders as he looks out on the world from the top of some precarious cliff, balanced ever so casually as if the fall will be just another adventure...

i was reading the thelemapedia today and was reminded of the last words attributed to Rabelais "I am off to a great perhaps" (or something like that) but most of all, was reminded of the folly of human minds attempting to control other human minds through ritual and rules of behavior and even more ridiculous, through rules of thought, as if the individual human mind could not (or should not) think for itself... as much as there are valuable lessons in the words of every written path, the inevitable conflicts and detrimental effects of such loyalties and enemies, inclusions and exclusions, and complexities of rules divide and weaken the doctrine and therein, the human experience... but as i seek someone to play with and ultimately, when sleep comes, to curl up with tonight, we all seek what we feel we need at any given moment in life... i still laugh with the concept and wonder of R's quote though... and now, this entry is obviously a classic, even though i didn't mention shakespeare...

obviously...

maybe i meant obliviously?...

well, tomorrow is another workday, so have fun :)

catch-42

sometimes, in RealTime™, this life can be amazing, soreal thereal can be... and i wonder if anyone will notice, i wonder if anyone will see... perhaps it was the lifehouse cd that played after the joseph cd see for yourself (a moment frozen in link-time, as opposed to the now of your reading time), or the flowing of the energy that brought me around to wondering all the wondering i am wondering tonight (beautiful, isn't t?) and while wandering around the wondering wonders arose from the depths of the core, which is dangerously close to bore, alas, though only on the keyboard, i hope, cuz there is always hope and seems to be in abundant supply these days, thanks the hope fountain, and not so oddly finding vore between, vogons not withstanding, we find ourselves meandering through a pristine glade when all of a sudden we stumble across this...

the stereotype that a man is just a boy and in marriage, the woman adopts another child, the husband, is altogether too true in our culture...

i did not want or deserve that stereotype, so therein we find my catch-22...

as an unformed mist, as we metaphorically call my personality, due to developmental deficiencies in my earliest youth, i am not a boy by choice, but by circumstance and i learned to fake being grown as i've adopted, temporarily parented, with at least some good effects you say, and carried out the role of dominant in a relationship, however as you've figured out (and bless you for finding the words), i am not truly formed at my core and await a person i can trust who wants to adopt me and help me form in the shared physical reality a whole grown personality...

so in the real sense, i need to be adopted and yet, if one just looks at the surface, i am just another little boy who does not want to grow up and take responsibility for being a whole person like most men...

if this makes any sense you you, then you just might start seeing my catch-22...

i hide the mist because no one wants a mist, no one wants an infantile relationship...

it is too abnormal...

maybe i shouldn't hide it... i'm alone anyway.... but i find i get no respect, i am passed over (literally treated as if i am not there) unless i take some form and presence in the physical world... it happens in every sphere of life, work, social, organized activities (softball, for instance)... exposing the mist, the infant, the vulnerability is unsettling and people do their best to ignore what unsettles them and it is way too easy to ignore mist...

seriously, look how long you did, and you were kind of obsessed with me for a while...

imagine people who don't know me or don't want to know me... i give them the easiest way out, i am not there...

and to be there, i must take a shape, a role, choose a personality and perspective and opinions and judgments and all the things that forms a person... but being a single point in this life, i slide (using mathematics for this analogy) anywhere in space because it takes two points to plot something on a graph or map...

a single point that has no fixed connection to any other point is a free radical, a random particle, and as relatively unpredictable as it is unwanted by all the other points that are connected and belong somewhere...

substitute people for "points" and we come to my experience in this life...

your value to me is tremendous, unmeasurable, for you are the only person who ever articulated this concept outside of my head... you are as close to another connected point as i've ever known... and yet you are unpredictable and not in physical space, so there are so many variables and the potential for disconnect for long periods of time is way too high and real...

so when you disappear for a week without a word...

i once again must settle into the isolation and free radical mist being that i am...

ironically, foolish games fits the feeling i feel when this happens...

.

.

.

and whenever you would call me on being mist, which may appear as hiding, i disappear because i stop trying to be anything but the mist i am...

catch-22

and then, when you do not understand and feel abandoned because you do not realize i am right there, a mist waiting for someone (a parent) to step into it and help form the being the mist will be, i scrambled to form into something that i hope will make some sense of my disappearance...

i may never have articulated that before you helped provide the words in this most recent conversation in these web words this year...

mist does not hide... an unformed person does not hide... an infant's personality does not hide... it is just not there unless you really take the time to look closely as only a parent does...

is this making any sense to you?

.

.

.

so we come to words on paper... fixed in time, through words i can express, explain, and ultimately create me


sometimes the obvious can only be expressed by the word duh followed by doh usually with exclamation marks...

may we have shared one of those moments here...

there's always hope...

sheesh, huh?

we're all nuts in this bag

the bag says almonds, pistachios, walnuts, pecans and the first nine nuts i pull out blind at random are... almonds... now what are the odds?... settling?... well, are almonds the lightest that they would settle least out of those four?... i think two of the four might be lighter, actually... so are almonds the cheapest and thrfor most prevalent?... ah, commercialism and capitalism rides again... wonder if i'd have bought the bag if it said 50% almonds, 20% pistachios, 20% walnuts, 10% pecans, or something like that... six of the next nine are almonds as well... i shook up the bag to be fair and nine out of nine almonds again... i am sorting them now... ironically, almonds are my least favorite of the four on this list, but nuts, i love nuts, so i am still a happy camper...

though if the bag said a whole lot of almonds and a few other nuts, i probably would have passed for another bag of just pistachios... the chocolate almond milk is good though... so is the music of the night... that has to be one of the most slippery seductive love songs around, at least for a music loving fool like me... it is not an easy sing, but it calls to me so deeply... sweet intoxication... definitely one of tim rice's greatest poems and andrew made the music magically carry the message into the soul of the true music lover who trusts music as much as, if not more than anything else...

music, a religion?... you'd be surprised how many live that, even if there is no box to check off on the form... the chocolate almond milk is still good though... kind of like that game where you start the next word with the letter of the last word, or when writing a story by starting the next paragraph with the last word (or words, if you are up for a challenge) of the previous paragraph... or to simplify, just the subject... it keeps a writer (and a reader, perhaps) off balance and interested in where the words might go next... or where they might fall off the page or table or out of the sky or something like that... just when you thought the thought was over, i mean, there it is again in another form in other words in the next paragraph and just as you start thinking there's gonna be another paragraph about the same thing, the paragraph suddenly takes a detour around and about and who knows where...

kind of like that one... or this one... or any, but more precisely, most in the life of a babbler... yes, the music continues to enchant, enthrall, and magically continue the party of life™ (which is, of course, the latest new blog in the ever expanding universe of the written gardens, but don't tell anybody unless you know they want to party)... music really truly is amazing when you trust it...

yeah, cuz even though i've been alone for so long i died with the whippoorwills and cried a zillion tears and forgot the face of my heart and lost myself for years and missed the magic bus and am comfortably numb, this is still where i live (wherever it comes from):

yay anyway!

hey, i'm just gonna party all the time and you're welcome to jump in whenever you feel like it... that's the way thereal is these days... we are the champions and all that, cuz that's what is thereal inside of me when i am not forgetting or otherwise distracting myself from myself with stupid human tricks and an in one of those fuck the world, i ain't getting off places where life goes on with or without me, or you, or the other, or the stuff, or the one, or anything and everything, even... the needy can probably line up and take everything at the moment cuz it's just that way, living, loving, feeling all right in the moment... and i really don't feel all that manic (but i'll lam anyway :)

so another work day spent waiting for others to get their work (and helping them get it done) done so i can start mine passes into history and the day ends in an evening with lasagna and the internet... laundry waits and maybe it'll get done tonight... the unpacking waits and maybe a little more tonight... godot waits and it's about dang time cuz i'm been waiting on that sucker for too many lifetimes... everybody waits, sometimes...

and me, for better or worse i've learned to enjoy being alone so much that even the lonelies are like a big fluffy cloud i watch floating by and when they get heavier, i bounce them around like a big balloon... maybe (shhhh, that's telling) that's the real reason i remain alone, i just don't want to get into human depressions and therapy relationships anymore... and that's thereal report for today...

whatever is going on or off, whatever is right, wrong, overwhelming, or missing, i hope you are making you life fun too :)

(e)thereal, baby, still crazy, still zany, still myself after all these years... and i mean it more than i mean any of the deeper darker stuff... the self-pity and the woe is me is a wasted lazy fantasy but i still feel bad and i still feel sad and i still miss lovers i once had and i still have dreams and i still wish for someone to share everything and more but the bottom line, what i know is mine, is the party going on inside, when all else is dashed or denied, there's still a roller coaster ride and at the bottom line i will not hide, cuz there's a party going on inside...

yeah yeah yeah yea... wonderful wonderfulness and squishy squeezy hugs (all for me if no one is around)... if you don't know what i mean, you don't know what you're missing, like you won't get the words if you do not get the silence and the forest loves the trees like the rivers love the rainbows and the body loves the mind for taking it where dream are real and all you've got to do is let yourself feel all you can feel including fear and doubt and pain cuz that's all food inside your brain and there you can decide to choose to win or fail, succeed or lose by what you give your power... this is your finest hour... choose what you give you power and your whole life will change... even if that seems or sounds impossible or strange...

it's true...

just be you :)


and happy almost birthday mikey :)

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...

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...