IN
BLACK
AND
WHITE
last---past---next---now
( FEATURED OTHERS 'n STUFF )
MEG AND DIA!
ORLANDO?
WHERE IT BEGAN
ARE THEY SERIOUS?
(how far are we from censorship?)
ONE. . . WHY
(find your social conscience)
Barbara Waters: so candoor, what all this fuss about blogmad?
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CONVERSATION WITH GOD
MEANING OF LIFE
FORWARD THIS ENTRY
INTELLIGENT DESIGN
(SEE WHAT THE POPE SAYS)
o O ( AND COMING SOON! ) O o
ABOUT ZOOPLA
o O ( AND CURRENT EVENTS ) O o
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o O ( SOCIAL CONCERNS ) O o
HELP THE RED CROSS
MESSAGES FROM MISSISSIPPI
BLOG FOR RELIEF
NEW ORLEANS JOURNAL
(MIRROR OF N.O. JOURNAL)
(INCLUDING LIVE CAM AND PHOTOS)
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HURRICANE HOUSING
LINKS TO HELP
IMAGES FOR HISTORY
New Orleans News
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THE FAILURE
FREE SPEECH
(tell them what you think)
The White House
(202) 456-1111
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(202) 224-3121
YOU'VE GOT THE RIGHTS
USE THEM
FAT MAN WALKING
BLOGATHON!
INDEX BEGIN
FACE FUN!
last---past---next---now
SITES I SEE A LOT
IxQuick Search
Google Search
itools references
movie database
Giga-Quotes
Harry Chapin Lyrics
SSA
OLD AND NEW READS
(WISH I HAD MORE TIME
TO READ and EXPLORE)
mother jones
utne reader
common dreams
the progressive
mediate
the other side
orion
harper's
rolling stone
reel classics
fallout shelter
the memory hole
song meanings
truth out
wil wheaton
bugmenot
global news matrix
break for news
are you generic?
neil gaiman
h2g2
daily kos
the truth laid bear
reason
capitol hill blue
boing boing
nobody here
SITES I AM CONSIDERING
SEEING MORE OFTEN
3Hive
metafilter
comics
digg
REFERENCE LIBRARIES
questia
wikipedia
gutenberg
internet public library
deep web search engines
itools references
movie database
Giga-Quotes
rare-lyrics
all musicals
AMUSEMENTS
Diaryland Times
home star runner
hell
hell too
sinfest
ill will press
the guide
purple
despair
maximum awesome
86 the onions
straight dope
something awful
glossy news
eric conveys emotion
odd todd
cracked
CULTURE
the superficial
darwin awards
this is true
urban legends
news of the weird
church of the fsm
the onion
god checker
faqs
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?) (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
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(make it real)
PO BOX 780398
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last---past---next---now
�2006 Candor Communications
2004-02-21 - 6:23 a.m.
connecting dots
I think maybe I write too much for most people (ya think?), or maybe anyone, to actually keep up with... considering that this is one of many places I put words on a relatively consistent basis and there would be many more words here and in other places if I had the time and the fact that I've been doing this for more than a few years, my dream of finding someone who could and would share everything (the words and all the rest) might be more of the impossible dream sort with each passing day, with each additional word... so the very act of rambling on here and everywhere in the hope that the one pure soulmate of mine might find me and share it all might be the act that makes it physically impossible for anyone to actually share it all... too bad I called the entry before the last entry irony, huh?...
tomorrow is the birthday of one of the most beautiful human beings I ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving... sadly, I do not know where she is today... hopefully she is alive and well and blessed with living her dreams... and for better or worse, I will love her till the end of time... beyond, if possible...
I sometimes think that I regret the mistakes I've made in this life, but when I wake up from my pity-party hangovers I realize that I have no regrets for my mistakes were my choices that I had to make in order to learn what I needed to learn in order to become who I am and I love me, in spite of the stupidity I exhibit at times, in spite of not liking some of the choices I've made, I love me... damn sight for sore eyes, these late night realizations...
in tribute to my old love I reach into the file for this diary, the file where I scribble notes when not online and I share what is there... I don't know if they were posted before here or anywhere... it may be random chance or predestined circumstance that creates this entry out of so many others, but tributes should be inspired by the moment they are desired and that this is...
so in the tradition of all good flashbacks, I invite you to come along as the screen blurs a bit and we find a few entries that were written once upon a time when this particular diary began but somehow were never uploaded, I think... if they are reruns, well, maybe you didn't catch them the first time... in any case, they were sitting in a file and are here for you now...
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
a whole new world
yes, this is... and loving every minute of it Jerry... the strangest thing about some of my cultural references, especially the ones from television programming, is that I so rarely catch TV shows in their first run... I do not recall the last TV show I actually tried to watch in it's first run... it might have been the early years of the Simpsons or the X-Files, though it was more a coincidence of being around the TV on the nights they aired than actually arranging my time with the foresight to be in front of the TV on those nights at that time with the right channel on... but reruns...
ah yes, especially late night reruns, that is where I find the golden age of television... most often occupying that ethereal and sensory space commonly called background noise, the dialogues and occasional images of so many once popular (and still, presumably, in syndication) shows emerge from the silent ethers to seep into my ever-hungry brain... and almost as suddenly as with music (which appears to best hold the primary attention focus of every and any cortical implant and synaptic receiving center in the cranium and anywhere else in this body in this life), snips, bits, soundbytes, and relatively permanent etchings of human culture are carved into the grey matter between my ears via the TV... ah, sweet subliminal stimuli...
but that is just a side note, the whole new world to which this paragraph actually referred (the one I am loving every minute of) is this new diary you are currently reading... yes, this is the new home base for the ooze continually seeping from my brain (presumptious of me to call it mine, I suppose, what with so many random thoughts passing through it with and without my awareness and certainly without my control, but we've had a decent working relationship for a number of years now so I suppose I can get away with some claim to ownership as long as I understand it is mostly in my mind and may or may not have anything to do with the actual possession of the material or ethereal aspects actually making up said substance or substances) rather continuously whether I am conscious or not...
as you might have noticed.
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
obviously I have something to say
and we may even get to it one of these days, but for now I shall simply allow the words to flow freely into this new imaginary space from the old imaginary space I euphemistically call my head space though as I have previously (in active and passive voices) mentioned, there is so much room and unexplored territory up (up being relative) there that there is no telling to any pure certainty just what belongs to whom and since ideas are free even after they are patented or copyrighted, any claim to first person pronoun rights is more an accident of birth or convenience of language than any valid conscious consideration and decision to believe in such possessions... I mean, I am fairly certain that I am or have been possessed, repossessed, and dispossessed more than a few times in this current overall memory of life, but then, even that is up for speculation once I take the gloves, blinders, and pretenses of cultural norms off... you did want that, I hope...
the fact remains that I am quite content with oblivion and the unknown for that is where all the learning comes from and learning is home for me... I get so bored when the illusion of complete knowledge presents itself that I am forced, for self-preservation purposes, to poke holes in any supposedly or presumably (or indubitibly, even) airtight, watertight, or hold-on-tight theory that presents itself (or is presented by others, which is most often the case with such knowings and theories and such)... there, you now have a concrete fact about me, my personality, my motivational forces, the being I am as I know myself to be, and all that jazz that we may actually be here for... the real world... the daily life... the knowing me...
and the excitement continues to build (even if you are unaware)...
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
conversation
I love conversation, especially within my own mind... my thought process is conversational... in fact, there are usually so many different voices from different perspectives vying for the spotlight in my headspace that I am amused beyond recognition... and sometimes even beyond ability to decide which voice should have center stage unless I really feel deciding would be the best course of action... usually I don't (decide that deciding would be the best decision, that is)... most often I allow the thought process to continue even as I continue doing whatever it is I may be doing, which is most often floating through this life experience doing my best to cause no harm and share positive energy and help others get what they seem to want whenever possible... it's not any saintly decision to be good or follow some list of rules or guidelines, it's just what feels best and all else considered, I'd rather feel best than any other way...
how about you?
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
technological limits
for whatever it's worth, knowledge-wise, and for whatever it means to you, this diary is currently being created within rather old technological limits... 32MB RAM, a first generation Pentium, a circa mid-1990s laptop, a basic dial-up networking connection, and so on... please do not pity the fool, but if you have spare change you'd like to share, feel free to send some as the limits are caused by poverty and I supposed you could say that it is mostly a self-inflicted condition as I tired of the world and got off a while back, though I maintain these rather limited connections with you (being the human race, I supposed) for my own personal and altruistic reasons which may or may not be explored as this diary continues to become whatever it will be (which, for all intensive purposes, is a best effort to bring you closer to me, whomever I may be at any given moment, in the knowing who I am in the real world daily life kind of personable sense... yes, all the babbling asides aside, we've got reasons for being here and hopefully, you'll want to know mine too)...
donations toward making life and writing and sharing physically easier for me are very welcome and interested patrons and friends here or anywhere should look around for contact info which will be slipped into the mix sooner or later (those first dozen or so entries, remember?... eventually)... if you have money burning in your pocket at this very moment and simply must send it to me, then by all means send it in any form (though wrap cash in paper so it is not visible through the envelope or packaging) to PO Box 780398, Orlando, FL, 32878-0398 in care of this station (Candoor)... you will be blessed, I promise...
in any case, thank you for reading and I just wanted you to know that while the primary reason for the starkness of design is the black holeness of mind from which I emerge most of the time, the very influential secondary reason is the sheer lack of equipment and processing power... this is the primary reason why you will not see much in the way of graphics or eye-candy designs, at least not until I get a more powerful system... and why I use DLand and other preformatted sites... heck, I'd even use a spellchecker if one was available, no less digital imaging and other hardware and software that enhance the web creating and viewing and listening experience (heck, this old laptop doesn't have any software on it beyond what Windows installed, so any recommendations for free or nearly free software for basic stuff like imagining, audio, compressing, web page building, protection, and so on - and I mean very basic as the space on this laptop is so limited - would be so very much appreciated you'd even get a personal thank you from me if you wanted it)... that whole technological playground and whatever might come of it is another whole new world I've yet to explore and would love to, just in case you wanted to know...
and now we return you to your regular programming...
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
sponteniety
seems like it should be spelled spontenaety, but who am I to judge (certainly not Mark Twain)... I wonder what might be lost in presenting the ramblings that this diary is inspiring in some well structured, though rather random, time frame... that is, uploading an entry every day, or twice a day, with the hope that regularly uploaded entries would please you and therein attract your regular viewing pleasure... after all, I am here to introduce myself and share the real me, the life as I know it... I wonder how much of the sponteneity I experience in the actual writing of the words would be lost, if any... and would that matter to you...
I can, at times, write a few hundred paragraphs of this sort of apparently aimless, most definitely meandering, and almost always spontaneous thinking in a relatively brief period of time... a hundred paragraphs in an hour is not unheard of... and if I then chose to present just one, or two, or a few of those paragraphs (presuming some were related enough to the others to be presented together without too much confusion, which is not my intent) spread out over the course of time as if I actually wrote a diary entry every day (which I just might anyway), how would the presentation effect you and your perception of me? (perception is almost everything, you know)...
personally, I would not want to lose the sponteneity or any creative worth in the process of presenting the words to you, so your ideas on this matter would be greatly appreciated...
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
comments
I feel as though I've asked this before... I am wondering about comments... in other attempts at online writings, be they be called diaries, journals, blogs, or whatever, I have utilized various tools to offer you with the opportunity to present feedback... notes, comments, message boards, chat windows, email, phone (would you call if I gave you my number?), even invitations to come and knock on my door (with sincere respects to John Ritter and his family for the thoughts in that particularly phrased reference)... this diary currently provides you with the opportunity to write a note or send an email or snailmail... would you use the comments feature if I paid for it here? (it is rarely used where I do have it, elsewhere)...
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
creativity
in the first week, I received one inquiry about this diary so far... it was from someone who figured out who I am, at least in terms of other diaries and journals I maintain... the query was about poetry... that is, I tend to write lyrical rhyming words a lot (Dr. Seuss is one of my heros) as songs are such good things (they make such easy friends, all you do is sing along)... the cultural (song, film, TV, whatever) references have followed me into this diary, but the rhymes have yet to sneak in (and sneak in they do, for I seldom actually come to write thinking I think I am going to write a rhyme now, though I have done that in the past and can... for those of you who love rhymes (I call them rhymes, you may call them lyrics, poems, songs, or whatever you like), have no fear, they will appear, maybe... eventually, everything should appear here as I created this diary to expose myself to you (so you've been warned, huh?)...
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
comments I have left for others
I imagine looking into your eyes and seeing the beauty and emotion I read in your words and find a friend who does not need the words to share the understanding... it's a good thought, even if it is only in my imagination.
I feel a slowing too, I ramble on in mundane circles about daily life just to keep the words flowing, hoping, wishing, dreaming of finding more motivation and depth and feeling and most of all, sharing... somewhere inside a voice whispers something about circles being unending and cycles recycling and repeating phases and remember, when looking up at a full last night, how all the wonder of the vision was swallowed by the loneliness of unfulfilled wishes that someone might have been there to curl up and share the moments... and I cry out: don't give up, don't stop breathing... and somehow I didn't for here I am today leaving these words for you to read... thank you for inspiring them and for motivating me to go around the circle one more time...
sometime before in 2003 - 4:00 a.m.
Foutu ordinateur retard� par�ne!
"Only connect! That was the whole of her sermon. Only connect the prose and the passion, and both will be exalted, and human love will be seen at its height. Live in fragments no longer. Only connect, and the beast and the monk, robbed of the isolation that is life to either, will die." ~ E.M. Forster
the question so often becomes, whether watching What Dreams May Come or just pondering navel lint, whether reading Stephen Hawkings views on Einstein or Poe's views on words, whether haunted by memories of traumas experienced or by blessings lost, must we believe in existence to exist?
do we paint our own reality or does it paint us?
is the dream we hold most dear the one that comes true in the end, or is it the dream we share?
awareness of existence is existence... or is it existance?...
sometimes I wonder if this life was meant to prepare me for spending eternity alone, I mean, what if we are each alone for all eternity, if there is never true sharing beyond symbolic communication... what if loneliness must be intergrated into bliss if bliss is to be secured?...
well, wouldn't I be the butt of my own joke if that was not the case, if true sharing that is becoming one with another being and sharing symbiotic awareness exists and I'm all set for it to be an impossible dream... ironic?... maybe I just chose this life because I got bored...
what can you do when you lose your way
when you see your truth without words to say
what it means to you or what you can share
when you feel like you forget how to care
and nobody is aware
nobody is aware when you're not aware
staring into space watching your energy fade into the distance
what is happening is what you believe
or whatever might be whatever is true whatever is acceptance
whatever your brain receptors receive
what good is a heart upon a sleeve?
why is your heart beating
why is your mind thinking
where is your love
your energy?
and what does it matter
if it all ends
where does it go
if it all ends?
so I'll just go on believing in my dream and hoping that someone comes along to share a symmetric symbiotic matching dream that allows for mutual satisfaction and the realization and actualization of the dream... and that is the moment that will be... and nothing else matters...
. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
(just let me know you were here)
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the moment
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