I know (and love) the few dear souls who read me and look for me when I am gone... you are a blessing in to the empty spaces in my heart... and if you can understand the frustration of loneliness and the dissatisfaction I express from time to time (call it whining when it is whining or ego when it is ego, but deep down {where the bottom line child lives and celebrates each moment} it's not whining nor a superiority thing, it's just an empty seat right here next to me that no one I've ever met can actually fill... and rarely does anyone truly get the meaning of that, so it's easier to call it something else I suppose, but maybe a few of you really do sense the look in my eyes and the question behind the look that becomes the title of this entry... yay for you and thank you)...

I mean (in one sense, reflecting one facet of the concept within these words), who is into reading entries like this one or follow all the links and read every word you can find in this one (just scratching the surface, mind you) and most importantly, really getting into musical experiences like Harry Chapin, Jackson Browne, and so many others of a similar ilk that challenge you to think and feel and laugh at the folly we (human beings) are while still irked enough to get up and do something about it and ultimately love something enough to mean something to someone like me?...

if I knew who the hell I thought I was I'd have settled on a singularity, but this life has been a multiphased multitasked multitrack rock concert operatic symphony that awaits an ensemble cast and an audience, so much neverminding and scatter wailing laughter amidst the rainbows shining through the tears for all the years without peers...

and perhaps there was some truth in the prophesy told by the subconscious bitch from the great white north that I will inevitably chase you away sooner or later as I was meant to travel this life alone...

and I'll remain agnostic on that point as well...

but this is where I come to babble on without much concern for anything, dear reader, as much as I love you and hope you have the best of everything in your life... this is where I dance as if nobody's watching (as I peek out hoping someone is amused) and I sing as if no one is listening (as I peek out hoping someone appreciates me in spite of my independent enjoyment of myself and the experience of the mind that pours out these words and the thoughts and emotions contained herein) so bless you if it makes even the slightest sense to you and bless us both if you take a moment to let me know one way or the other...

I stuff my face with this and that these days, in RealTime� (for anyone actually interested), and ignore most of the depths within as I wander through the input from roommates and others passing through the cloud of my consciousness... I've grown (or de-evolved, to be more precise) sloppy at living this life and being myself, so I'm hardly recognizable in my words (or in the flesh, for that matter), even further gone than Peter Banning as portrayed in fiction by Robin Williams (but I am real in flesh and blood, which makes the fantasy a tragedy by comparison, or vice versa if you know the song (huh?) that may not yet have been written yet... or maybe something like that)...

so I bounce at the front of a stage amidst people less than half the chronological age of this body I call home because I usually do not concern myself with what mindless people think or say (have you heard that line The Spill Canvas sings lately?... not useless) and I watch a crowd as they mosh at other times because I feel lonely and want to share the experience and ostracize myself, foolishly perhaps, feeling the lack of depth and understanding around me as a knife that cuts through my soul...

but who's misunderstanding is that, really?...

and I will present you with a dozen or more entries tonight, some that may have been uploaded before and some that may be brand new... I don't feel like spending the time searching or pretending I can remember, so if you are looking for more of my words to read you can find many entries, if not all new words, that were not here yesterday... it is time to clean out the scribble files...

and I felt fidgety tonight as I settled in to relax after much fun and some errands and I challenged Precious to listen to music new to her, but she retired to her room to listen to music she'd rather listen to and I put on Harry's Dance Band on the Titanic (not for the politics as much for the remembering when the music and I felt more like me) and then, back to the beginning of Harry's music and it's effect on me starting with his first CD... thank you Harry...

and the changes...

and from the start with Harry's Heads & Tales I started singing and with Short Stories the memories flooded back and if you only knew... if only you were there... if you only heard... if only you were here...

it just made him whole...

and feeling a bit... oh so sloppy, yes, but still in there... I know I'm just another crazy dreamer, but what if someone actually chose to believe, wouldn't I be a fool to abandon her just because she's not here today?...

and when I leave a silence between CDs grow a few moments too long, in walks Precious to share some music she found that she says is like the music I am into tonight... and she plugs her iPod into my speakers and out comes Bright Eyes... thoughtful lyrics and I like Bright Eyes and I love that she's trying to find music I'll like based on the bits of Harry she's heard...

and her interjections take this entry to tracks that would probably not have been visited here, except in passing mention earlier when I pointed out that I am not focusing on the politics or even the social causes that Harry painfully simplified so well...

but who's really listening?...

it can take me hours sometimes, many hours in fact, to put together an entry like this and even with all the linkage, I am still barely scratching the surface of what I am trying to put into words and even if I found the time to find all the words, it would be barely scratching the surface of the meaning I want to share... and I do it for myself and I share it with the hope that somewhere, someone might get it all... and the waiting could end and the sharing could begin...

juxtaposing for a moment (and supposing as well, from another perspective), as Precious says goodnight as Sniper & Other Love Songs, I switch to A New Form of Beauty by Virgin Prunes... mostly likely a clear example of you had to be there and yet, an appropriate conclusion to this entry that in many ways never got off the ground and in other ways re-broke ground long permafrosted...

once there was a way to get back home and that way was music and hopefully one of these nights I'll be saved by the music one more time... there are at least six references in there, probably more, but I'll leave the mystery I am building for when I wake up...

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