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 |
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? previous - - - - - - - - next - - - - - - - - comment? - - - - - - - -
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 |