with sleep deprivation

it is frightening how ageism (like so many other isms) creeps into just about everyone... even Dostoyevsky... and as you see if you follow the links, I am again drawn to her wit, whimsy, and wisdom (wow, a double plug in one paragraph... it must be love... that ought to get her attention... or at least get her to consider throwing something at me... ok, I'll be serious... she really deserves that respect)... she may be the editor of my deams (and don't I need one... I know, get a spellchecker... proofread... pay attention to which keys your fingers are pressing... like I have time for such trivialities when all I can do is move my fingers as fast as I can to keep up with the rambling voices coming from all over my mind... someday, my editor will come... another Disney fantasy still clinging to life in a strange, yet perhaps poetic form... but I digress)... yes, I am drawn to her literary talents (remember?), and yet, more than anything else, I am compelled to return to read more because of her heart... at a point in this life where cynicism sounds logical and idealistic burn out is reality and I am almost immune to inspiration at times (have you been reading another alter ego, mostlydead?), I am actually inspired by her burning desire to help people and make the world a better place... I used to be like that... now I just do it every day on the night shift... but I'm not sure my heart is in it... of course that could just be gas...

wow, that was about as serious a self-confession as I've come to and all I can do is punctuate it with ireverence... typical me...

the fact that I am relegating my infatuation with Neb to self-depricating sarcasm is a sure sign of fatigue... while some people might call it depression (a-hem, how easily I am fooled by my own drama), it is more an overdose of chocolate malted milk balls after running a few miles after work after umpteen hours without sleep (first sign of sleep deprivation, forgetting numbers and making up words) at the moment... I really should be sleeping (and if I ever get my other journal up to date {it's still lost somewhere in a parenthetic spiral many months behind and the only way to actually read past August of 2002 is to keep going back to the indices and clicking on each date individually... but I'm not supposed to tell that secret so don't tell anybody I told you} I will start putting a link to it and then you might really get to know just how plum loco {or unintentionally eriadite and copecetically relevent} I can be when I get seriously irrevent {or irreverently serious} or lost somewhere in a parenthetic spiral)...

what?

����������hungry for love
����������hungry for stimlation
����������waking my mind
����������waking to devastation

����������and I stare at the barren landscape of a life
����������wondering whatever happened to the child inside
����������someone must have had a swift razor sharp knife
����������to cut hope out of me and leave me so denied

����������but I'm not dead yet
����������I am just reconfiguring
����������waking my heart
����������waking to remembering

����������and I hear in the distance a voice I left behind
����������hear it calling me, calling me back to tears uncried
����������maybe if I let it all out I will wake up to find
����������I never gave became one of the many people who lied

����������and I'm hungry for love
����������hungry for new horizons
����������wanting a mind
����������ideas to set my eyes on

����������and I see the written words and understand the way
����������the love of literary sharing calls me back again
����������and the child inside reaches out with hope today
����������renewed and blessed to find another friend

����������who is hungry for love
����������hungry for stimulation
����������waking the mind
����������waking to new sensation

����������giving each other something redolent, and tantalizingly unknown
����������like stolen glances out of the corner of our eyes
����������something compelling, something enthralling, something surprising
����������that a little truth survives... in a world of lies


����������������������������������������shhhh, I'll run away now to the stars
����������������������������������������and dream of being close to where you are
����������������������������������������and maybe you will find me in your mind
����������������������������������������in the hopes and dreams your heart won't leave behind

�������������������������������������������where the world is young and pure and always kind

I may actually start to introduce myself in my next entry (what?... a bio?) in another journal... maybe I'll cross pollenate a few journals with the seeds of my mental loins that are seeping out as I introduce myself to a new friend in email (wouldn't want ta get personal, wouldya?)... or maybe I'm just holding out a carrot that begs for a nibble... anyway, read her... she makes a whole lot more sense than I do, and she's nebulous (fabulous as well, but we wouldn't want to embarrass her with ornate praise, right?)...

oh go ahead, ornate her as much as you please... it'll do her good to be coronated (I almost wrote pollenated, much to my surprise and giggling peanuts in the gallery of my mind)... now before I go metaphorically referring to her as a beautiful flower, I will take leave of my senses and find a pillow for my head...

nite nite, my dear readers, nite nite

candora

�����

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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