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be random what is now when is then where is email who i am how it is why it is leave a note? share me, share you make me smile thank you other journals (of course I should be sleeping) (what's life got to do with it?) about me (too much to know at once) friend? (tic tic tic, toc) BE MY GUEST (BOOK) << MISSING �SOMETHING? >> the bottom line who can when i had the time the first of december (has another song) what i do < ? me # > < ? harrychapin # > < ? Random Acts of Journaling # > < ? Poetic Voices # > < ? The Write Club # > < ? Nights Awake # > < ? Fluid # > < ? Adopted # > < ? Childlike # > < ? Poets-Muse # > < ? Five Hundred # > < ? As You Wish # > temporary place holder ()))CRAYON-BOX)))> published blogmad! varb? �2015 CANDOR COMMUNICATIONS IF YOU WANT TO USE THE WORDS FOR ANY REASON TALK TO ME |
in the beginning if you scroll down to the bottom and read from the bottom up, then you will read the words as they were written... that might make a difference, especially upon first impression... this page contains ten distinctly separate entries and this format (which changes with the next entry) might jumple up the intended effect of the content of each entry... or perhaps this format did exactly as it was meant to do, present the entries as they are below... everybody has an opinion, I'd like to know yours...
and the changes... something happened with the archive database or something here and now the older pages do not pull up as single entries so title-ing them is relatively meaningless and grumbles are the order of the day (wow, real life creeps into the flow of words... techno-cyber-computer real life, at least)... and then, as if that wasn't enough of a turn off, the e key is sticking on this ancient laptop creating a stuttering Mini-mee sound in my eyes when I re-read what I wrote (so editing is now part of the flow, which is detrimental to the flow, so needless to say {but I'll write it anyway as rambling eases frustration, at least temporarily, most of the time} leaves me agast or something like that, but wait, it's not over yet so screw me in and turn me on cuz the light at the end of the tunnel has blown out once again (not really, but that possibility keeps me sleepwriting)... but wait, there's more... stepping off the screen and into a more physical real life for a moment, the car is reaching the end of it's natural life span as well, coughing not only after starting but all through any ride under 20 mph (that's something like 32kph, if memory of living in Canada serves me right and then again, that's a sick joke in itself but we won't go there just now) and the decision between fixing it or going in search of the next new mobile home away from home (cuz, loving the road, that is what a ride becomes for me in the long run) puts more distraction into life and the flow of eee words here, there, or anywhere... eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee somheow that seemed to fit there so when the keyboard took over I let it... and we thought typos were bad before, huh? nothing that a ton of money won't fix... new computer... new car... new theme song... and more work (now there's real life if you can traverse the sarcasm)... so I wonder what appeals to you more here in this place of words... is it the esoteric poetic-like philosophical rhymes and illusions of reasons or the nitty-gritty bordeom of generalized slices of life like this that slip in occasionally (feel free to all answer at once)...
best moment of my life I did not sleep last night and yet I met you in a dream for I remember getting lost in your eyes... was it just the photo I saw, I don't know, I only know nothing is the same as it was before... I was alone last night and yet I met you in a dream for I made the sweetest love the world has known... was it just the smile on your lips or the the tear in your eyes, I don't know, I only know last night reached new highs... and the surprise is that it comes as no surprise for every moment since I found you has been the best moment of my life... or any of my lives, for that matter...
in the stars he was an innocent old man with a child inside still yearning to be loved unconditionally, a modern day Servantes hero with Machievelian mischief and a touch of Seuss... the world long ignored his rhymes and reasons as he placated his hunger to share with incessant rambles through gardens of words... she was an innocent child with an ancient soul inside still crying for the loss of humanity over time called progress, a modern day Juliet with the heart of a wild animal set loose in recent civilization, slashes of Joan and Mary and a touch of Alice... the world long hungered for her flesh as she danced naked under blue moons on starry nights... they sought the same journey... they lived the same hunger... they dreamed the same dream... they were promised to each other by powers beyond their knowledge or control, but never told...
work life love time sometimes this is midnight for me
humanity with you I forget who I am is the grass always greener on the other side, or does it always seem to be?... how many of us find that which is just out of reach to be the most appealing choice of all?... if two people agree to dedicate their lives and be willing to die in order to to live an impossible dream, can it be possible?... and what if the idea caught on?... in a world where beauty is sought as a possession, in a life where value is not based on how much joy something can bring when shared, but rather how well something coveted by the most can be kept exclusive by the few, how can a beautiful child survive?... have you ever felt like a prize someone sought to win, a treasure some were driven to possess, a piece of land others sought to conquer?... have you never been a woman?... when all else fails, press record... there is a remedy for every malady if we could only see beyond our misery but insecurity replaces honesty with greed and poverty, call it humanity... and so afraid of what is wrong they dare not see what is right (what would the neighbors say?... embarrassed, they run away)... and so disposed by their own hands pretend that no one understands (how long can it be denied, this cultural suicide)... just try to blend in... damned by my own hand I seek salvation in a bottle who said that?... pretending to be something we want to be because we are too afraid we might not be remotely close to what we want to be, we cover all the mirrors as if they would not show our reflections and we've lost the ability to pass through them... cults of vampirish children dressed to blend in with the night slink out into the darkness to mingle with spirits and others seeking to at once find sanctuary, shriek blood curdling wake up calls, and shock-titillate the stoggy generations who've long since retired from life decades before their biological clocks were set to start winding down... crumbling on the inside, all the while boldly strutting ownership of each footfall as if the night itself protects them from what they themselves will not face... some dance, some sing, some cry, some burn, some wither, some blossom, some undulate, some turn... and those who can, sleep
promise chah, like everyday? this not being the primary place I ramble each day (and that even the place that has been my daily journal has not seen me every day), it's a wonder it exists at all... being everything to everyone is not the easiest accomplishment to maintain, unless the goal is failure... of course most of us share the goal, whatever that might mean... just once, to be completely understood just once, that must be the sensation you might call heaven or nirvana or bliss... ever wonder what language your silent child speaks?... I do... shhhhh... sometimes, in the middle of the night, the world stops and nobody notices (except the little people, and they'll never tell)... once upon a time I wrote letters to the night, but then I started working the night shift where laptops were banned and suddenly I focused on reading instead of writing through the night... still immersed in words, but the creativity remains passive... you could be part of the renewed activation if you want (and you don't have to be a little person, either)... join them... enter obscurity blessed art thou who place their hand to paper with pen to write the secrets spoken only by their silent child in letters to the night... wonder left open for all to see yet no one does only to wonder why... humility balances hubrus and pride while self-esteem balances shame and guilt so the thought you are can float above the the core even while attached to the weight of fear... and when the unknown inspires more wonder than fear, you have reached love... once expressed as a pyramid in various languages, the points remain the same for all to see and still... remain calm intensity will render all living tissue asunder with or without reason (for you to decide as you choose the colors and materials through which to express your art)... and if you see the blue light in the sky tonight, you may have been exposed... and if you remember to return, you may understand... and if you hear the song of the silent child in your dreams tonight, you may be one of the chosen... and if you believe in the little people, you may be crazy too... when all else fails, laugh you are easily identified by the diet you consume in this world (and obviously, food is part of your diet, but is that all you saw?)... every day you change (a lot more than your mind) and with every decision you create a legacy that only you remember (and mostly you forget)... the power of the words is to give the legacy a stationary expression that freezes a moment even as it continues to change as your understanding of words evolves... as if you are sitting in an art gallery staring at a painting and watching it change through your developing understanding and expanding imagination... epiphany comes to those who wait, but it comes faster to some... break open your shell and release yourself promise
night and day for you it is the middle of the day... for me it is time for sleep (of course I should be sleeping... still, I am searching... coughing up dreams adds value to mucous strip away the starry nights and you have burning days, for the day is much closer to the stars... do what you will with the days, but leave me the nights... I write letters to the night... letters to the night, never sent still, the darkness knows what I meant will you inspire me? motivate my muse to come here more often to find you my reader to breathe in your interest to bask in your acceptance to bathe in your silence to beg for you applause... is this a question? keep the applause send adoration
eye candy well this seems to be right on time... this diary, that is... for the first time in many months, I can not connect to the FTP server for my website (and the seemingly endless maze (there's also a journal there) I call my written gardens, so here I am... believe in fate bringing us together?... if you are one of my many libido fantasies, please do... if you are one of my literary fantasies, please do... if you are a critic, strive to develop a meaningful existence... meanwhile, the night is full of music... not my first choices, but definitely enough eye candy to have me looking up from the computer screen now and then... three concerts on the aptly nicknamed boob toob (Britney, Janet, and Madonna)... a bit more rambling (and spontaneous) kind of review is available in journal form (if you really want to know)...
dear reader we can be kind
entering diaryland so this is diaryland... why am I here?... do I want attention?... after years of writing a journal of sorts on my website in which I call out for attention, that seems like a foolish question... and yet, if I really want more attention, why didn't I create a more public journal or diary like this before?... shy?... timid?... vulnerable?... complicated?... as if you have answers... dear readers (should you find these words)... I am here to share words... may you find some worth in the time you spend reading... may you find even more worth in the content (and may I find content with which we can both be content one day... actually, I'd prefer touched, moved, inspired, excited, ecstatic, even intrigued to content... adored would be good too)... does it work?
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I love you all for coming... for reading all these words for every click feels like more love (I know that sounds absurd) if I could only tell you... one thing more tonight I'd say I wish you could come home with me and be my friends for life |