falling in love again

the banner has this big-eyed doll with a head way too big for it's body and the only thing missing (in my sarcastic mood) is the quotes and the first word "mommy..." and being a banner-slut, I just had to click... so I click on this simple banner ad that asks, "what would Jesus bomb?" and find petey... petey puke, to be more precise... if petey is anything like his journal, petey is not someone most people would take home to meet their mother unless you are like me and love your mother enough to want to shock the pants off her in futile attempts to open her frightened little mind... of course my mother is imaginary since I never knew her, and so she can be anything... sometimes I imagine her more like Wendy (you know, Peter's Wendy) and sing let's be quiet as a mouse and..., but that's another story for another mood and the playful imaginary family life of an orphan is not what this entry started out to be about...

so I read a little puke and find I am pathetically amused... it's the the kind of there but for the grace of hating hangovers go I kind of self-mockery amusement because I once, in my more experimental years, had my own barstool at the local Cheers (it was called Captain Walters and if you stumbled out the wrong door too fast you ended up bobbing for your life in the fishy waters of a small commercial marina)... I also had a wide assortment of glass art-pipes, bongs, and other odd party stuff, and teetered on the edge of madness every night as I sought an escape from the daily monotony of working life in any mind expanding or numbing medium I could find (which included addictions and obsessions with all the things Jesus people would probably call sins)...

I can just imagine someone finding petey by doing a web search for Jesus (did I mention my current mood?... well then, you shouldn't be surprised to find me rather fetal with laughter)... yes, even candora has some callouses... after living with humans for several hundred years, it might be a little too Jesus-like not to, but then, I never met the dude so far be it for me to claim to know what is really Jesus-like... I suppose this might be considered a controversial entry for this relatively gentle diary, but then, nobody is perfect and maybe we all need to slip out of character now and then to remind us that we are characters online, no matter how much we try to be real... even if you are not an avid writer, returning to an online diary regularly creates an ambiance in your mind, a certain expectation in your writing... the voice we use when we come to our online space may or may not reflect our chosen online name (often it does), but it eventually grows a personality of it's own... read someone's diary for a few dozen entries and you'll be able to recognize the style of writing and personality of the diary... well, usually, that is... if you find you can't don't see it as a character flaw, see it as a lack of literary imagination... maybe reading is not your thing...

anyway, I haven't quite fallen in love with petey yet (we've just met, after all), but I've got a feeling he's gonna grow on me... and I find it odd that he's the first I mention out of a pile of diaries I've discovered in the last few days that I've saved links to, because a couple of others inspired me to ramble into mushy poetic splendor as I fell in love at first sight with the writers... but then, you oughta know me by now, I'm way too easy for the religious right...

it is not as if I actually try to shock or surprise... it is not that I want to or try to be obscure... it's not like I said to myself as a very young candora, "when I grow up I want to be an enigma"... I think it's mostly because I refuse to be boxed... that is, I refuse to accept any philosophy or way as the only way or even as my way... I am still exploring, discovering who I am... maybe that is why there are so many different places in my written gardens and why I have more than a few online journals and diaries (but still no blog, huh?)... the only clear definition I have (and I think this runs through all the writings and every cell of my being) of who I am is what I mean when I say honesty without harm or innocence... simply, it means I want truth and I want to be as harmless as possible without giving up truth... it's really a noble, though rather futile quest I suppose, as there may be no absolute truth and being irreconcilably relentless in my quest for what may be unnattainable for more reasons than I can even explain in a zillion words carries me into more adventures (and misadventures) than I even want to relate to or even remember (but being me, forgetting is rare), but it means well...

I remember a line from Sweet November when Chas Cherry says "Cherry doesn't care about those things" and laughing with wonder as I ponder, however fleetingly, if it fits for me here... "candora doesn't care about those things"... I think it does... I come here to escape from the realities of being a professional whore to the commercial culture, to not think about the bloodbath that promises peace and freedom for people we probably wouldn't care about if they weren't sitting on 2/3 of the world's known oil supply, to leave the ass-kissing and cynicism (well, at least the ass-kissing and most of the cynicism most of the time) behind and playfully enjoy the creative muses inside (and out there) that inspire me to fall in love and laugh and cry with the joy of passion for life, love, literature, music, and all the wonders of art... that's why candora finds amusement, irony, and irreverence (oh yes) everywhere and why playful teasing (really?) is gradually becoming part of the personality here...

or perhaps it might be called a secret smile...

but what fun is there in letting the subconscious create a literary persona if we pull back the curtain and analyze the poor hapless character to death? (death to candora would probably not be much like death to smoochie, but the reference pops up not just cuz of the word-play, but because I'd definitely want Robin Williams to be a major character in any story about any part of me or this life I create as I live it (on and offline)... what can I say, sometimes I just love to digress)... let me see if the following direct confrontation helps at all...

in the end, you are going to read what you want to read... and if you have any intention of returning (or even reading this far along in this entry), the more or less judgmental you are (we all are, even if we try not to be... every decision we make, every perception we translate into thought is a judgment of the sensory input we experience... but that's another bit of physio-psycho-philosophical babble we can save for another time) you will place me (as candora or any name or place I write) in some sort of box so you can identify me for later reference in your mind... it may be a little too simple (or complex, depending on your perspective) for everyone to understand, but your mind is a courtroom and you are the one and only judge, even if you try to (and as many millions do, actually convince yourself you can) shirk that responsibility and sell your consciousness to some outside concept (real or imaginary)... there is no real easy way out, in the end, it's just you and your conscience and the mirror and in that mirror there is only one judge (you, in case you haven't followed this)...

did I say direct?...

so while the question "what would Jesus bomb?" is intriguing and potentially powerful and should be part of any personality survey, the real question would be "what would you bomb?", but I think most people could not actually wrap their heads around the physical reality of flying over somewhere or someone with an actual bomb in their hands well enough to honestly answer the question... it's a much easier question to answer from the physical comfort and ethical/moral safety of the chair in front of the computer screen, you know?... so maybe that's why petey's banner ad question is so much more poignant and maybe even profound... at least for people who take JC seriously... or Buddha or Mo in the desert, for that matter... what would someone who would die to save you bomb?...

maybe it was this that inspired me this morning to playful ponder love and war... or maybe it was what Frieda said to Kafka in The Castle or the effort is takes to wake up each day and crawl out or the safe world of dreams into the nightmare we call modern civilization... maybe it was the quote I found here, "all we really need to do is see the world as lovers do" that got me remembering the words of the song People (among others) again and raised a little edge to shake off the monsters of the culture most people emulate, follow blindly, or at least get lost in... maybe it was Kevan's games or maybe it was this miscreant or the what Eckhart said about hell in Jacob's Ladder or the fact that the29th grabbed me and wouldn't let me go yesterday and still holds me today (falling in love again?... someday we'll all understand... and with a sigh and a smile, we whisper, "if only someday was today"... maybe I just want to be one of the damn hell ass kings or maybe could I just drink water and bless Toronto in my own way and still belong in here or the strange allure that brings me back to rain or recurring hero worship I feel for this misanthropic bitch or how I still love staring into these eyes that still inspire me from my desktop though the words behind them are pressed into books of memories like precious flowers or silent dreams or goo between fingers after passionately playing with cookie dough, or whenever your mind, or fingers, might have just wandered metaphorically or viscerally)...

and there are so many others who haven't even made it to my buddies list at DL yet (there are 581 links in my 2003 "explore when time permits" link folder so far and still plenty more in past years links folders that have not been linked yet... did I mention I was a banner slut?... actually, I explore the members listings and randomly surf more often than I click on banners, but I'm kinda liking the idea of being a banner slut for the moment so I'll repeat it again... banner slut banner slut banner slut... hmmmm, would I be too strange if I started hearing banana slut if I say it three times real fast?... oh, these parenthetic tangents)...

but maybe I've got it all wrong... maybe I shouldn't fall in love with words and the fantasy of who the writers might be so easily... maybe I shouldn't be such a banner slut, so easily seduced by literary persona... maybe I shouldn't be such a kid-in-a-candy-store online or in life... maybe I should define myself permanently and be happy in a specific box... maybe I'm too old to be so easy, so flexible, so whorishly delighted in how literary fantasy can mix with reality and confuse the hell out of whatever might be... and maybe I should take it all more seriously...

and maybe I'd bomb anyone who tried to make me...

but then, my bombs are and would be words (oh, that proverbial mighty pen) and secret smiles (shhhh, stop telling) and giggles at the irony of parenthetic asides that are metaphorically mooning the oblivious with the obvious (or using the obvious to moon the oblivious... somehow, I see a bumper sticker or motto in there... maybe even a movement... where did I put Arlo's phone number, anyway?)...

or even with the obscure...

anyway (do we sense some sort of sudden wrap up approaching?... are you relieved or disappointed?), you really ought to get out more is the banner add that would lead you to my diary, if I had a banner ad... look for it, for you never know when someone might steal the idea and confuse us by playing me online... I hope you enjoy candora's diary and remember that candora is sleepwriting and when writing from that place where you still remember dreaming, anything is possible... and everything is beautiful (or at least oddly amusing in some sardonic way)... and in the end (the love you save... yeah, you know)... ultimately, the thing you should know about candora (and love) is this... it's so easy to fall in love, if you're not careful, you could be next...

candora

love love love

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NOTE: Due to excessive comment SPAM, comments have been turned off... ironically, this month is the renewal for supergold membership and the comments feature... bad timing... you know how much I love feedback, so maybe there's be comments again one of these days... until then, please leave a note... thanks J