and reading about her hair got me to thinking about how long it's been since I cut my hair and except for a trim of a few inches, there's been nothing but growing on the outside of my head (wish we could say the same about my inside, aye?) in this millenium... hence the occasional references to the CNS&Y song, if you know what I mean... I'm not so sure I owe it to anyone anymore... but I am still a hippie at heart...

maybe I'm saving my haircut for marriage...

what, me worry?... oh sure, just because I was profoundly sinking into the blissful abyss of memories and madness (ah sweet madness) when what did I do if not start another one?...

yup, I went and opened up a blog at my space cuz I've been drawn into that web enough to want to leave comments and the only way to leave comments is to sign up so I did and far be it for me to sign up and not put at least one entry up, after all and all... of course as with every obvious aspect of my character, there's bout to be an equally obvious exception...

and what will be your sacrifice, really?...

oh, but you know the tragic comedy that was my amy could not be recounted be another now with time so torn apart and years so vitally important in this life... and yet (grasshopper sparrow), if the flower hanging on to bloom for seven decades only to glimpse once the breathe of the new born hummingbird, we might recall the beauty of the fall and spring again, to live again, for the first of May and my december are still of the same year...

meanwhile, on the show biz front (is that a henny youngman segue from a Henry Gibson imitation of an Ed Sullivan cultural (or quasi-intellectual) moment... and now the really big show, boys and girls, will bring you Clarence and his fellow riders, the dancing bears... cue circus music... no offense Wil, but who didn't love little Topo Geegio?... who, in fact, even though of him as little, in fact again, after all and all), Wil Wheaton is going to be in an episode of CSI... since this is one of Precious's favorite shows (she's most often, among her many interests and budding-passions, overheard talking about following a career in forensic science... or acting)... and ST:NG is one of mine, we might remember to turn it on...

sometimes irony is the highest respect we can know...

and will I always think at first thought Will to ask most politely and sincerely how his mother is doing these days, all the while most respectfully forgetting that wise and wonderfully human Dr. Beverly Crusher is actually not Wil Wheaton's mother?...

someone must be laughing now...

Harry, at least, and hopefully his family as well... and so many others with passion and grace far beying that which most of us even dream of... but to play and be paid, to do what you love to do, what you consider fun to do to survive... that is one of lifes huge miracles that deserves all the italicization I can muster...

and I think I'll conclude, or at least begin to conclude this rather scatter-brained, though quite sincere, if not truly reverent entry by letting you know that I have decided that I still like Gloria Estefan's voice (no surprise) and energy, but I absolutely love her voice in Spanish... and I barely understand a word, but my ears say she sings with so much more of herself (listening to Unwrapped where she does some of the same songs in both languages)... and while much of this wonderful listening is based on the mood going into the music, the upbeat sounds and emotional voice definitely helped... seduce me with a voice and you own me for life... but before you singers-stalkers get any ideas, I better let you know I'm easy... I've been owned by my ears by dozens, maybe hundreds of beautiful voices... yes, I am an aural slut...

but it feels sooooooh good...

the energy... the music... the passion... the random play... we switch now to a little Dashboard Confessional, if just for contrast... I love the race car track in the liner pics... I used to have a huge layout... and cars, a dozen cars, at least... and all the tools and gadgets and accessories... alas, those basement boxes held so many magical memories (and precious gifts)...

it was a time of the greatest gains and the greatest losses, not the best of time or worst of times, perhaps, in fact, mostly dull and crawling times with our face stuck staring at one or another thing not of our choosing...

and infancy is like that too...

. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)