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


2006-02-21 - 11:06 a.m.

getting to the real


I was pausing for a nap, but serious thanks for the reassurance... I love knowing I am not alone out here and while my stats tell me dozens of googlers visit every day, I can only guess that the other visitors are you dear regular readers who remain mostly silent, which really is ok...

one thing I would like you to know about me is that most of the time when I rhyme (or when I am really following along in an entry and you know when that is happening, usually, when the paragraphs get obscenely long) I am liberally using creative license, often scooping heaps of imagination into the words, and reaching for the extremes of emotion... I thrive on the drama, even when I am exaggerating or making it up...

I am not trying to fool anyone... I definitely do not believe in or seek to create any guilt trips (guilt is a joke to me... I realize that perspective is not well received and often misunderstood and even offensive to many, but that's the choice they make, not my choice)... I believe no one is under any obligation to care or do anything for anyone else... I hope everyone would believe in and actualize honesty without harm, however if people want to believe in something else, that's their prerogative and I'll just try to get along with them as well as I am able - or I'll walk away and keep my distance...

in my craving for sharing I imagine being close to you, whomever you may be (and in that realization the fantasy reveals itself, but I pretend I don't know so I can fool myself into feeling less alone cuz it feels better than wallowing in loneliness and risking falling into the traps along that path... though the bottom line is I'd rather be real, but who wants to hear anyone repeat "I want to share" over and over again or lament about the aching longing to share, for that matter... that's what music is for), and I appreciate you appreciating that... if you came around more often, maybe we'd understand each other more...

another thing about me as a writer that I would like you to know is that most of the time the word you is plural for me here... like you all or y'all except I just write you meaning all of you... when I am writing to a specific you I almost always link your site...

I think some of you come by often and I wonder how much of the real me you think you know... I know when I read someone's diary every day I want to believe I have some idea of who the person writing really is, but I ask myself - how could I, really?... the words are one dimensional, no matter how well the writer writes (and therein creates the illusion of a second or third or even more dimensions)... I don't mean to burst bubbles, but I am attempting to be real for a few moments... the fact is that I have not been real for myself for more than a fleeting moment in the past several years...

shades of the word?

maybe, but I may have been a bit more defensive or at least frustrated than I'd have liked when I wrote word... after all, I am not always in that perfectly balanced center place cuz I'm not ever perfect, no matter how much I tease about it (who'd I fool?... wink, nudge, giggle)... I even have some bad habits now and then (like nowadays, for instance, but we'll not digress along that path for the moment cuz that taints the real with distraction which leads to frustration and boggles the point I might be trying to make like it's doing right now)...

I watch House and 24 most Monday evenings when I am awake now that Precious is addicted to those shows... actually, House seems to have many rooms, layers of challenges to the status quo... definitely some poignant ideas and killer (pun not intended, I think) lines from my perspective... I'd like to meet the writers... and apparently American Idol will be on three nights a week... I don't pay attention to the TV most of the time even though it is on most of the time, but Monday night I seem to be drawn to participate with my roomies in the ritual TV watching... I suppose that might give me something to talk about with people which will help me be more social, but then, speaking of boggling the point, what happened to the real?...

see what I mean?...

I obviously need to get back to doing a lot more sit ups and push ups and running before I can claim anything near the self-discipline, conscious awareness, and energy level that I find myself on when I am being the real me... until then, the best I can do is fake it...

I think the main difference between me and most everybody else is that this sort of realization seems to bring on dark brooding, even depression, at least as far as I can tell... and I find myself enjoying the stupidity... that's probably pretty stupid in itself, but hey, I don't take much seriously cuz really, what's the point?...

on the other hand, I might take everything way too seriously for everyone I've ever met in this world... it's all a matter of perspective, like a theory of relativity, if you know what I mean... ultimately I am just too content and happy and secure and self-contained and satisfied inside for my own good sometimes...

so rather than be bored or depressed, I create drama in words and enjoy the roller coaster of emotions it inspires... I mean, I feel it all, the angst, the doubts, the aching hungers, the desperate loneliness, the cries for attention, the rants about politics or religion or social issues... everything is felt as if it is real, but the real is that not everything I write is real... most of the emotional stuff is illusion, often greatly over-dramatized for my own amusement...

sometimes even I wonder what is real...

and now I wonder if knowing this (if you believe it) diminishes the connection or enjoyment you might feel in reading my words... like when you feel like the words speak to you, or for you, can you still feel their power even if I actually only imagine it?...

that's for you to answer for yourself and I don't need to know, but it would be interesting to discuss face to face one day (and that is when I start believing in the real, when I see the meaning in someone's eyes and body language)...

I used to want to try my hand at writing musicals, but as a collaborative effort, for it's the sharing of the creative process I seek more than the solitary creative process itself... I've just never met a composer interested in playing with the idea... I don't suppose too many people in the world actually aim at such goals, even in their spare time just for fun... and for me, as serious as I can be, just about everything is just for fun...

so I can buy into most any emotion and give it my heart and soul's total devotion and make it so real that I not only feel but I raise my blood pressure and risk my own life with the physical experience of the feeling expressed even when it's all over it was just a show...

especially alone...

I think it's because I have no doubt about my ability to find clarity in reality when I want to so I have the security and confidence it takes to let go of reality and experience fantasy and illusion as if it were real and then write about it and express it as if it is actually how I feel...

thing is, if it's not shared, it's not real for long... everything is fleeting, transitory, an ethereal blip of consciousness that appears and disappears like subatomic particles, photons and leptons of experience that feel real but evaporate into illusion in moments if they are not observed and shared...

observation changes everything...

if you could only see the connections I see in my mind between the interaction of everything, the similarities between subatomic, interstellar, and human interactions... the randomness, the chaos, the invisible thread of apparent structure that defies explanation or any real scientific measuring as we know science today...

once upon a time I started writing and in the beginning I created the written gardens and looked upon what I had created and decided I liked it... and when the internet became more popular I realized that if I were to share myself and my imagination through the written word online, i would have to create some paths or at least portals that would allow entry with at least enough initial structure to give the reader/visitor the impression of substance to the writer, me...

and so there was the Main Gate... I probably took the name and concept from Disneyworld... but that was more of a public portal and the person, me, was lost in to myriad of worlds of words available from that entrance, so I pondered a bit and decided that a house would be the right metaphor for paths into my written gardens and the Front Door, Back Door, and Window were visualized and placed on the web... the paths remain far from complete, however the basic frame of entryways are there...

and just as it might be at any house that is a home, I see the Front Door is where anyone can come to visit, the face for the world (though quite the irreverent babbling face it may remain to this day)... the Back Door would be for deliveries and friends and people who want to know more of me... and I probably took the Window concept from Dawson's Creek, imagining Joey climbing through my window and laying on my bed cuz that's just the kind of close friends we are...

and I left the construction far from complete because I tired of the solitary creative process and sought more interactive sharing on and offline... eventually I tired of the online as it took up too much time and produced too few real-world interactions... and eventually I tired of the offline because it too provided too few real-world interactions...

so I became a hermit...

and all the while, from extrovert to introvert, from organizer to fringe element, from participant to spectator, I kept myself stimulated and in practice with feeling by writing and letting the real mix with the fantasy (cuz sometimes the real gets kind of monotonous)... so when I am feeling sad I imagine being happy and when I am feeling happy I imagine feeling sad... and when I am feeling lonely I imagine being breathlessly in love and when I am sharing bliss I imagine all the pain in the world... and all the while I hope for someone who enjoys exactly that, the whole shebang, the full monty, the big picture, the total experience, the most comprehensive illusion of them all...

now we come back to the previous entry and what might have been explained if I did not pause (or not) is that I continue because there's nothing better to do and because it's more fun than not continuing (and I'm all about the fun, remember?)...

I continue living because it's fun more than it's not fun and I have no idea if dying will be more fun than living, so I'll give living as long a chance as it will give me and not rush to die...

I continue writing because it's much more fun than most anything else I can do all by myself and I am all by myself a lot these days and in this life, as I've known it, there's a lot of alone time and writing is more fun than anything else I do by myself for any sustainable period of time (after a few hours, running or exercising or even masturbation requires some rest if only to prevent overdoing skin friction... same for singing or playing music... but I can spend hours and hours writing as long as I adjust my finger movements and body position to prevent repetitive stress injuries... see, it's all very scientific)...

and I learned a long time ago that writing releases great endorphins for me... and it frees my mind (and it's true, my heart does follow) to enjoy life without the baggage of second thoughts, memories, stress, frustrations, anger or any other negative emotion... it all comes out in the words...

and in words the real can blend with the possible and I can stretch every emotion to it's extreme for a little while, experiencing what the good or bad feelings might be like if I actually indulged them and chose to go all the way with them... that way I can feel profoundly depressed, even suicidal for a little while and because the feeling is expressed in my literary illusion, I can maintain much more control than if I was languishing in an abstract feeling of helpless despair... and ultimately, seeing the words in print, I realize that such feelings are so not me and laugh at myself for imagining them so dramatically and in my amusement, find my way back to my securely positive center...

I continue writing here behind the candoor because it's usually easy (thanks Andrew) and you know where to find me, it's my current address, and there's not enough compelling reason to stress out my old computer with journal software and I don't have time or enough interest in learning to use my own domain for this today...

most of all I continue living and writing and sharing words here because I have this oddly inexhaustible supply of hope for more interaction, more sharing, more love... hoping someday somebody is going to be pointed to or stumble by these words and believe they are falling in love with me and want to see if that is real by sitting in the same space and listening to each others eyes and bodies talk...

let's get physical, physical...

well, it was a record setting #1 record for nine weeks once (and are we amused?... well, maybe you don't see all the layers I see cuz you're not here to hear my eyes, aye?)...

I could maintain a specific illusion for a while, I suppose, creating a tangible, consistent persona and whether it would be me or some fiction, attract a following of readers and internet popularity, but then I'd probably get bored cuz I'd be ignoring too many possibilities and the popularity factor is not important enough to me to give up the ever-changing flow of thoughts and emotions that is the fun of writing for me...

maybe I am a chameleon from another planet...

there's as much seriousness in the one-liners as there is in some of my most serious entries, but then, that's all relative... as I've said many times, there is more seriousness in my irreverence than in most people's seriousness and more irreverence in my seriousness than anyone ever wanted to explore... such instability of possibilities, such acceptance of the constantly changing nature of life, the universe, and everything, is not a comfortable place for most people and it's where I am most at home...

no wonder I spend a lot of time alone...

truth is, I am alone because I do not want to settle for the superficial... I do not want to share physical intimacy just for the sake of getting my groove on or getting my rocks off... I can do that just as well, if not better most of the time, all by myself because I know what works for my body and superficiality usually does not... it's a turn off... that's why cybersex is not for me, it's too distance, too superficial...

of course libido can probably enjoy the superficial with that narrow physical image that turns libido on, but I don't seem to meet many people look like these people (I don't seem to meet any, actually)... and even then, within minutes (or maybe a little while longer after taking many photos to remember her by) I'd be wanting to delve into her psyche and find out what makes her tick, what really turns her on, lights her fire, sets her soul free, inspires her heart to song, who she really is...

just cuz I'm curious like that...

or an idiot, depending upon your perspective... I mean, to many people in the world, blowing it with some gorgeous person simply because you wanted more depth and they wanted to remain shallow might seem foolish... at least that is what I've been told by most people who know I've done it... but while is does matter how someone looks (because I will not maintain {or even begin} a physically intimate relationship with someone who does not chemically, visually, and ethereally turn me on physically), it matters even more what someone feels, thinks, dreams, and believes in...

so whatever the final judgment, in the end I'd much prefer an open platonic marriage to someone who shares ideals, dreams, philosophies, and beliefs than monogamy with the most beautiful of supermodels or most gorgeous actor...

so this entry gives you a taste of the real, a bit more insight into the person I know as me who lives this life in black and white (as opposed to the author of behind the candoor)... I suppose what I meant to say when I started out is don't worry, be happy...

seriously, don't worry about me...

if I lament or express despair so deep it comes out scary, do not imagine me at the end of my rope desperately grasping for something or someone to save me... I'm not and never have been truly suicidal... even when I played with the most deadly of drugs or activities, I was playing to enhance and expand my experiences living in life and not seeking an escape from life... even when I am crying myself to sleep over lonely days and feel desperate for someone to love I am expressing my passion and hope for life, not dying in hopeless despair (no matter how painful it might sound at the time)...

now that does not mean don't care about me and it does not mean I just pretend to bounce off the walls with joy and appreciation for your comments and notes and other responses... I think anyone who's spoken to me knows better than to think that...

just cuz I'm so cool and all together secure and independent and need nothing to be happy but myself doesn't mean I don't want your attention and caring and love (and you surely know ego loves anyone willing to worship me, even if it's in jest, but especially if it's not)...

I just don't want you taking the drama department productions of my life in any way that might bring you down or cause you undue stress... I do hope you take everything I write seriously, but even more I hope the positivity comes through (even when the writing is so dark that doesn't even seem to be between the lines)... and as seriously as it gets, there's almost always a thread of amusement running through every line for me...

that's the real and I hope you choose to believe it (cuz you decide what the real is for you, even if it's different than the real I know as real)...

the key is the will to survive and be happy
relaxed concentration keeps us knowing what to do
we can find the silver lining in the darkest cloud
by finding the positivity in you

all we need to do is want to...

and the key is the will to survive and be happy
determination keeps me knowing I am free
to find the silver lining in the darkest cloud
by finding the positivity in me

life is full of challenges, obstacles, pains and passions that are very real... when I am alone, they are evanescent, leptons, in a state of flux and I have never been at a loss for finding the beauty or wonder or pleasure or amusement in any moment alone... even when I am lamenting or feeling pain, there is learning going on and learning is a blessed experience that is always pleasure in the end...

you should see me perform Gethsemane...

and I laugh at the thought (maybe you get the irony too) cuz I am quite ready to die during the ecstasy of performance when I am at the self-discipline, conscious awareness, and energy level that I find myself on when I am being the real me...

and after all, to conquer death you only have to die...

if I can not die in my sleep in the midst of the perfect dream, then I would rather die running at peak speed, at the peak of orgasm, reaching for my best performance on or off stage than sitting in front of the TV watching whatever...

this has become a rather self-indulgent entry, hasn't it?...

see, it's that diphthong on the end (what's a diphthong, anyway?... and what's that query we tag on to the end of a statement called?... anyway, it's that thing) that makes the statement amusing to me... as if I am in doubt and require someone else to tell me what i already know... but it is a way to start a conversation, I suppose, aye?...

I love you for putting up with me...

and that is the real J






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