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



SITES I SEE A LOT
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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
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reel classics


fallout shelter
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odd todd
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the onion
god checker
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fark
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post secret
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meetup
the white house
ragged trousered philosopher
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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
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Unconscious Mutterings
Friday Feast
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(make it real)

PO BOX 780398
Orlando, FL 32878

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


2006-11-28 - 2:28 a.m.

fools rush in, please


whether I ought to be grinning after the last five entries that have suddenly appeared is not for me to say (I'm the one who points out non-judgmental stuff, remember?... nyuk and all)... some of the last five came from other places, but a lot was rambled on just now, or in the last day or so as I sit here catching up on the babble files (which is a process of reading through the snips and snails and puppy dog tails and assorted satin and lace I fund falling out of my mind along the way when there is no time to babble on and so I put those snips and such into this file called the babble file and eventually, like this past day, I make an effort to put the snips and such together in some sort of series of entries...

you knew that?...

well, now you do if you didn't and maybe it makes even more sense if you did and the rest of you either don't care or love me and put up with my repetitive long winds, so yay for all of us (even if you don't care, cuz you need it most) and may we find some semblance of sense or entertainment or something worth our time in all these words...

I mean, what would you do if I sang out of tune, really?...

once I could sing
the notes were so pure
and all who listened
would ask me for more
now I just get strange looks
that were not there before
like something died inside
it cuts me to my core

I wasted my diaphragm
I've lost touch with who I am
does anyone understand
what is it you see?

this is not what I had planned
I was meant to lead a band
not I'm just a grain of sand
was this meant to be?

some times late at night
the feeling returns
but the body does not
something I forgot
cost me a lot


that kind of fools are we, who make ourselves too busy to stop and smell the roses or have the time to really spend getting to know someone and risking the fall again...

who me?...

I've been there... and I still may be one even as I go through the motions of giving up the merry go round of working for material success and get myself out into music filled social places more and more where anything could happen and I actually have the time to let it happen if it happened...

I want to believe that I can remember how to receive and believe... I want to believe that I can be reborn from the ashes yet again into the pure innocent child who lets it all go in the magical fall... I swallow all the evidence to the contrary and simple put one foot in front of the other and live as though I believe even though I am not sure I would actually actualize the believe if the opportunity arose (it does take two to test it, after all, and me, I'm actually really just one no matter how well I might sometimes seem like I'm many in my rambles)...

I think I understand... I think you understand... I think it's the scariest thing of all, the think you understand that I understand that you understand... to believe it... so I remember that the proof is in the actions and the busy life you live and big pond between us makes it very safe to play and tease and say I believe...

so I want to believe...

and if I really can not tell them apart, would I sleep with the wolf or the sheep just to find out?... I don't know... I have... would I again?... I think so... extremely selectively, but I think so...

that is the kind of fool I am...

and then, in your blog, you inspired this comment that I include here because confession is good for the soul, but even better when it's actually confessed where those looking for me might see it:

contrary to public persona, I know too well what you mean... in the comment, I mean... I have no idea what you mean here... dis appointed? (for years I used two ses {how do you spell esses anyway?} until I figured out it's two words... dis and appointed.... do I get Tarquin's award now?)...

personally, I refuse to get busy again... I didn't mean it that way, but I seem to be refusing just as well that way too... in any case, I quite the rat race and now live out of a box, but I have lots more time to do important things like go to three concerts a week and mosh...

based on your words, I could probably fall in love with you... especially if you were a barely legal nymphomania who's never been kissed and still in your original wrapper...

I have to jest, be irreverent, ridiculous, even... if I got serious I'd probably find out I've been depressed for years...

I've degenerated down to one liners, I must find a big finish quick...

ok, try the truth... I used to trust the written word like it was more holy than the written words that everybody else calls holy because, in my youthful innocence, I believed if someone took the time to write it down and send it to me, it must be the truth from the heart...

I wish I could believe again...

I think I try to convince myself I can fall in love again and believe in someone again by writing about it because I don't want to accept being alone and lonely forever and I don't want to compromise on a grown up sort of we'll pretend to believe each other for the kids sake kind of relationship...

meanwhile, nobody seems to be the right one and it's been years...

sucks, really...

but I was there for the miracle Meds!... ummm, miracle Mets, that is... that was an unintentional typo, but I left it in hoping it might be cute or something to balance out the faux arrogance I started out with...

anyway, the miracle Mets was a baseball team who nobody though had a chance and they won it all because their fans believed because their ace relief pitcher said "you've gotta believe"...

I can hardly believe I've reduced myself to baseball analogies...

but seriously, I believed then...

I want to believe again...

so I'll keep telling myself I do until I do or until I forget my name and address, whichever comes first...

and that's the truth.



I could have been thinking of miracle Max, of course...







. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
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the moment

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