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





RINGS 'n THINGS

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�2015 CANDOR COMMUNICATIONS
IF YOU WANT TO USE THE WORDS
FOR ANY REASON
TALK TO ME

MONOLOG

how can we stay strangers?

you know, not every great diary is found here are diaryland... some of my favorites are on private websites, like this one... and here too... but I wouldn't want us D-landers to feel left out so I'll point out two friends of the tangerine that I've discovered require more reading (which I hope to do soon, because there must be time for more if I'm finding more), so visit them too (note that the too was added randomly, kinda, and may actually have nothing to do with the previous four links who are actually people who know each other offline and I can verify that the first two are real people because we shared chicken wings in the physical world one afternoon not too long ago and then the tangy one snuck into the 1000journals line for #803 (at least I think it was #803) cuz I said so and besides, after reading this war rant I decided that friends of friends are worth knowing too and besides, I definitely agree, bong water is nasty, though what really got me going today was her eerily familiar candor and ultimately, to be even clearer {or is that more obscure} it was the tangy one's email that woke me)...

oh, and also read her

this entry sort is of in progress...

and so I got to thinking as I was reading and realized why I love words so much... of course this could all be a fogment of my imagination, or maybe even a figment, but I am fairly certainly convinced that I have some innate instinct or magical power to read between lines and get inside the heads of writers to know the person attached to the hand that hold the pen (or fingers that press the keys) way more than they ever intended to be real (like when they are intentionally writing fiction or being playful) and even deeper behind the curtains of consciousness to see the naked souls inside that they don't always (and sometimes never ordinarily would) even admit to themselves... but as I said, that could just be all in my mind... but seriously (oh, wasn't I?), as writers who love journaling and diarying, how can we stay strangers?

candora

candor

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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




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


ALL WORDS (C) 2015 CANDOR COMMUNICATIONS