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last---past---next---now



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OLD AND NEW READS
(WISH I HAD MORE TIME
TO READ and EXPLORE)

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utne reader
common dreams
the progressive
mediate
the other side
orion
harper's
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fallout shelter
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reason
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nobody here




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odd todd
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church of the fsm
the onion
god checker
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fark
iGod
post secret
webby awards
meetup
the white house
ragged trousered philosopher
the smoking gun
the defective yeti
landover baptist
evil bible


COMMERCIAL CRAP (AND PRON)

(Note: pron is porn worth a look for amusement much more than passion, so if you see a (p) next to a link, be aware naked people may appear if you click it, m'ok?)

beautiful agony (p)
(a turn on or a laugh?)
real doll (p)
(the ultimate self-indulgence)

(or it could just be a typo)




PROMPTS
(IF YOU KNOW ONE LET ME KNOW)


Unconscious Mutterings
Friday Feast
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(make it real)

PO BOX 780398
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send me some music
your favorite music
old or new
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let your message come through
and I will love you forever



last---past---next---now
�2006 Candor Communications


2003-12-29 - 11:36 a.m.

boxes


ok, so a little interest here and there and I'm inspired to pour my heart out (or at least hum a few bars)... and I said to myself when I left work this morning, self, you really ought to get to the gym today... either go right away before you sink into the big green chair or go to sleep quick before you get caught up in words and then go later when you wake up... I didn't listen to myself... so here I sit a few entries and odd ends later looking around at the day and wondering what to do... sleep would be wise, as I've been up twenty-odd hours (what, your hours aren't odd?)... and hunger says "what's in the fridge?" and "Sally will be home soon, let's get talked into eating out somewhere" to which I reply,

"stupid git"...

but the gym after the twenty-odd hour of awakeness is kinda futile, if not dangerous... especially since the last time I ate was... ummm... yesterday sometime... morning, maybe... thirty-odd hours, I suppose... wisdom does not follow me wherever I go...

still, I was too excited this morning to do anything but write... or ramble on, as Zepellin would say... sheesh I miss music... but did I tell you that I got a steamer/fryer pot for Xmas?... it's electric... so what do you think will happen more, steaming stuff or frying whatever?... there may be more to choose from in whatever, so frying may have an unfair advantage... but I do love steamed veggies and that was the thoughtfulness behind the gift... more thoughtfulness than I thought of when I thanked the person at work... so I'll just have to thank her again more thoughtfully after I use it and the thoughfulness becomes more tangible... I was kinda surprised... there I sat with this big box wrapped so pretty and all tied up with a beautiful gold bow... shocked...

maybe speechless...

I am so not used to the receiving part of gift giving...

anyway, that was excitement buzzing through my sub-brain all through the night and then I get home and find tags and notes and guestbook messages and emails and a message on the phone... dang, and I forgot to call Helena who left a message yesterday about wanting to bounce something off my head... hope she figured out what she was figuring out ok... but I was in shock, she'll understand... she's the cynic that keeps the hopelessly hopeful romantic in me off balance... that is, she kicks my ass whenever I get too far off on a cloud...

yeah, what friends are for...

I wonder what would happen if I actually really did fall in love again (resistant, me?... like honey on grease)... but who would want to fall in love with nitrogycerine?... no, I am not equating myself to dyn-o-mite, TNT, or any sort of macho character or wrestling hold... maybe a better analogy would be putting the stuff in a seashell that happened to land on a the back of a dove that happens to be in the mouth of a vulture in flight... vultures do not chew well in flight, so the dove still breathes and the shell has not broken and the stuff has not exploded... but what happens if the dang bird lands?...

three guesses why I should not be a children's book author...

a. no worries about spillage?

b. I used to eat vultures for breakfast?

c. I leave in typos?

you're not asking me, so I'll let you answer... any answer would do, for even though I was born under the sign of Seuss, the timing was just never right... later, I'll add a link to something I wrote for a child once... until then, there's this written for a friend once upon a time... sigh, the good old days...

someone asked, "I wonder who you'll let in to see all of you?"...

the question gave me chills... good chills, cuz I imagined that someone might actually want to know and what I want most in this life purely selfishly is to be known completely by someone... and eerie chills cuz I wonder if anybody ever will want that and be able to figure all of me out and will still want that after they do... makes sense to me... anyway, the question got me all excited, but no worries, I didn't have to change my shorts...

altogether too seriously now, I always wonder when someone makes any attempt to know me if they want to know me or if they want to put my in a box... I mean, do they want to see the book cover or do they really want to read the contents of the book... I don't do covers very well... maybe I should say with a wry smile, "I don't do covers" and see if my meaning is clear (that I might do a cover with someone if they really want me to but it'll be just for them and me even if we let the whole world see, or something like that)... or maybe I should take a more biting sarcasm approach and say (with a bad Mexican accent), "covers?... we don't need no stinking covers"... of course then one might see us emerging from the covers a la John and Yoko on the Two Virgins album cover, frolicking away into some meadow while some silly song plays... maybe Little Boxes (thank you Pete)...

yes, it would be memorable...

but what I meant so say was I think we, as people, place too much emphasis on the package, or the box to keep the metaphor consistent, and we skim over the true meaning of life, the deeper than flesh people we are inside... sure I have a libido and enjoy a good physical fantasy now and then (and twice on Sundays), but when asked who I am I really don't want to be a fantasy or a momentary fling or a superficial image made of a/s/l and what do you do? and zodiac signs and favorite colors and body measurements... I want to be a real person, a heart that feels, a spirit that soars and falls, eyes that cry real tears, a soul that dreams and questions and has some doubts...

how do I answer, then, when asked who I am?...

I did get to thinking though (no, not like that... and not like that either)... semi-respectible babbling kind of thinking close to like I used to do when I trusted everything... well, maybe not that close... I have been away a long long time (yes, love will abide... thank you Linda... and Gary White)...

I shall wander off now to another place and time and who knows what and while I do, I leave you with this thought...

it's not the box you come in

it's how you come out of the box.






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




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