LIFE

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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o O ( ALTERNATIVE MEDICINE ) O o

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


blogadvance blogazoo
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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)

HELP AND BE HELPED
HURRICANE HOUSING
LINKS TO HELP
IMAGES FOR HISTORY
New Orleans News
Buloxi News
THE FAILURE


FREE SPEECH
(tell them what you think)

The White House
(202) 456-1111

Senate and Congress
(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

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?)

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
Wednesday Whatevers
Sunday Brunch
Monday Madness
Thursday Threesom
Saturday Questions




(make it real)

PO BOX 780398
Orlando, FL 32878

send me some music
your favorite music
old or new
blissful or blue
let your message come through
and I will love you forever



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


2004-05-01 - 8:26 p.m.

there is always hope


I just read a few words about why moving to your own server is a good idea and I agree with most of the words, but I still am here with umpteen diaries and sending Andrew money as if I don't have a server of my own... sheer lack of time and laziness is not the only reason... community is the primary reason... and yet, I do see some who maintain a DLand page that redirects to their own server space... not having a computer that can handle all the programs I'd like to play with enters the picture... but it's just something I have not given enough thought to yet... something to ponder and learn and purchase and learn and try out and learn when I have the time... I would not have thought about it today except that pan brought it up and I stumbled over there via the banner... the banners introduce as much positivity and community to DLand as anything, the random introduction of another diarist into my visual space might be, in the end, the primary reason to stay... and on the other hand, I probably wouldn't have thought much about it today except as I came here to write this I look up to see the resident squirrel showing her ass again (well, maybe it isn't actually hers) and I wondered how looking up at a butt crack will influence this entry... this paragraph answers that question...

moving right along (with a smile few have seen) into today... I have read much of this and that (ah, how casually I light upon the depths, huh?) and feel profoundly moved (with irreverent humor and honest love as my shield from my own abysses) to gaze into my own dark spaces and remember (perfect timing, no doubt)... along the way I was touched by ash and embers and friends old and new and a trust that which has no proof and needs no explanation... and the music that returned me to a simpler place and time (while simultaneously opening the floodgates of excitement and experiences that creates the foundation for amusement parks, horror novels, not to mention PTSD and other dissociative mind games)... how does he do it?...

and then there are the rhymes that have popped out of me recently, the memories that I dive into the last days of April each year that give the first of May it's charge and hopefully give the month of May new creative life (May and December have been my most prolific rhyme writing months overall)... as I probably say too often in mostly dead, the kids are alright, meaning me and the child inside me... I risk everything (sanity, mostly, since I have little else) ever time I dive headlong into my creative madness and feel everything that's ever happened to me (a therapist would probably call a code red or blue or some sort of emergency code) and it may appear to you that I am dangerously depressed or worse during these times when reading my words, especially some rhymes, but it's the method to my madness, the creative process, please try to understand... here, maybe I said it better to a dear friend in an email today in response to some concern for me based on words I am writing about my emotional history (for starters)...

actually, I am supercharged with energy today and it's wonderful, always is when the words flow and I feel connected... sure, much of the past is a horror show, but it's fuel for my creativity and ultimately, it is yesterday... today is the art part and the only downbeat is the longing for more sharing and the sorrow in others that I wish I could lift from sad hearts and turn into the positive creative energy I feel in me...

or maybe I didn't say it so well... what I mean is, I do not want to appear aloof or anywhere near perfectly secure and together and fine, for I experience pain and post traumatic stress and have more baggage than I can carry and stupid trips going on in my head just like everybody else (well, most everybody else who have not shut down their emotional minds or fallen victim to amnesia)... I am different than anyone I've met so far in that I somehow have a way to rise above and detach without separating (or separating without detaching?) so i can find the security and stability within myself that allows me to overcome all fear and doubt without losing the sheer panic and angst and horror of feeling the devastation and misery I have experienced in this life... in other words, I can step out of this body and look at this life as a spectator, as an alien observing human behaviors, effected, even affected, but independent... it makes sense to me cuz it works and those who have shared intimate space with me tell me they see it happen, but I am rarely confident that I can explain it with words...

"when I'm deep inside of me, don't be too concerned... I won't ask for nothing while I'm gone... but when I want sincerity, tell me where else can I turn... you're the one that I depend upon"

Billy Joel wrote those lines in one of the songs that have become a core, one of the ten or dozen or so songs that are the primary core soundtrack of this life for me, words that express who I am and my experience in this life as well as any I've ever written or read... other songs that fit into that soundtrack include The Impossible Dream, Imagine, My Way, I've Got To Be Me, Need To Be In Love, Never Walk Alone and a bunch of others that do not come to mind at the moment because I am rambling about this without any preparation and in a rush because the gym will be closing in less than two hours and I want to get over to it for a workout tonight... and truly madly deeply, the fact is I have been away from my core and the music for so long, that I have forgotten the face of myself (to press onward in my references to current reading material)... there are a few hundred songs, ultimately, on the soundtrack of this life... words that express me and my perspective and my experience and my hopes, dreams, wishes, and more... once upon a time I spent much time, years focused on nothing but music and words and I put together tapes that represented me in lyrics and music... so the soundtrack of my life is much more than a phrase or cliche for me, it is something that actually exists, or at least existed in physical space once... the core tapes were left in trusted hands and that trust was betrayed and I let myself scatter to wherever as I aimlessly wandered (and still do, to a certain extent) through time and space without taking time to regroup or repair or give any conscious thought to recovering or retaping the soundtrack and therein reconnecting with myself...

this is where you find me today, if you are looking... in a holding pattern circling the rubble, gazing down upon the shattered remnants of a life so carefully constructed I was retired within my security and peace... more accurately stated, the foundation was of self, the tangible stuff that introduced me and represented me and shared me with others (letters, essays, auto-biographical writings, things, and the tapes) were complete enough so that there was no need to spend time wondering who I am or how I can express myself to others... I had many thousands of words, many hundreds of writings, many dozens of tapes that I would point to for anyone who cared to know me to peruse and inquire about... the years I spent writing and listening and taping made life as me and the love of sharing that motivates me so much easier and less time consuming...

now I have (whether you've noticed or explored it all or part or not) what appears to most to be a rather massive website of writings, but the continuity and accuracy is missing, the product of the words does not reflect who I am nearly as accurately as the original works I produced during those years when I had the luxury of working (which was play, not work, for me) on reading, writing, listening, and taping the words and music that told me and anyone else who I am... I still know myself, somewhere deep inside, I just lost the words to the truth...

or so it feels...

the security and smile (and laughter and giggles) that permeate everything, even as sad a concept as losing the words to the truth (and I feel Harry understood this well and I wish he'd have lived long enough to continue express it) comes from knowing it's still in there... so I can sit in a corner (or wherever) with an odd grin like a kid holding a box that contains everything the kid every wanted, only the kid isn't exactly sure what is in the box or how to get into the box to explore it cuz it would take more time than is available to do it just right and the kid knows enough to be patient so as not to ruin the process, even if it takes forever and is not completed in a lifetime (which would be a waste from some perspectives... I leave it for time to judge)...

some might see the kid as retarded, as in a state that exemplifies the epiphany express as ignorance is bliss, but if you can catch the kid's eyes in just the right light at just the right moment, something indescribable sends some message shooting through your head with a combinating of spine-tingling chills and a blanket of soma-like comfort and peace and you just have to pause and wonder... maybe the kid has the right idea after all...

but who has time for such wonderings...

in the end, I would hope to leave you with the feelings that you need not worry about me, that your concern is appreciated far beyond any words I can offer you, far beyond any gifts I could give you in return... that you care about me in any way is what makes this life worth living... so please do not stop... please continue to let me know how you feel (and not just about me and my ramblings or whatever I do... I care about you and want you to tell me how you feel about yourself and everything cuz I want to know you)... I want to encourage you to find the positivity in everything and especially in you and in my darkest writings (it's in there, even if it's sometimes contained in a non-descript box in a brown paper bag in the hands of a drooling child sitting eerily still in the corner of a mind that rambles on far too much to follow all the time)...

remember, we do not see things as they are as much as we see things as we are... our individual perspective and experience changes everything... when we are in a peaceful place, we find more peace... when we are in a loving place, we find more love... when we are in a happy place, we find more happiness... when we are in a troubled place, we find more trouble... when we are in a sad place, we find more sadness... when we are in an unsettled place or a fearful place within ourselves, we find more fear and doubt in everything we see, feel, touch, or experience...

I can read Stephen King and laugh with him and find the hope buried beneath the horrors and I can also read his stories and bury myself in my own fears and doubts and horrors... choose the author who best talks to your mind and you can do the same, it all depends upon your momentary state of mind, your perspective... I am not fearless, I just don't let fear stop me... it is a choice, don't empower fear... and therein, share everything...

within everything I've ever been, done, written, or created in any way there has been a conscious light, an indefatiguible (is that a word?), a tireless optimism, an insane positivity that will not go away even if it is buried so deep that it appears invisible... this is why I do not fear the journey, why I do not doubt my ability to survive anything, and why I ramble on without any apparent editing or direction... there is always hope... please try to find it :)






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




see me - - - feel me - - - touch me - - - heal me


< last one < < < < BURP! > > > >next one >




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.

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.

.

the moment

we interrupt these seemingly mindless dots for a word from (or at least about our sponsor (hmmm, sponsor?... what's the opposite of sponsor?)... anyway, now, as ado-less as possible, the word for you or andrew)...

you know that box to the right on the dland entry page called recent public entries?... what do the asterisks mean?... and the bold?...

. . .

connections

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AND WHATDYA MISS?
Laughing Lament
stranger brews
once upon a diaryland
babbling through computer concerns
stunningly missing
older still


random chance

who me?

leave a note?
(read archived notes)

send me mail?

you want to know me?
soundtrack
101 Things
The Sequel
The Trilogy
202 Things
200 Things
202 More Things
202 Things Again
testing123
have time, love words?
sleepwriting
(where the heart dreams)

and now, in RealTime�

DO ME!
(Johari Style)


DO ME WRONG!
(but do me right)


SOAP!

(EPISODE ONE)
(the dark side of candoor)


loving linkers
other loves

A Diaryland Survey
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small world
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tell others
read others
applause?
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get your own!

saturn rings and other places
googlisms
browsing
where've ya been?
the searchers

favorites

911
HEY AMERICA!
LOOK AT YOUR CHILD
STOP THE ABUSE

(GET THE CODE)

THOUGHTS ON GOD

( temporary attractions )


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