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2006-06-18 - 5:27 p.m. and on another night I pondered this entry is for friends and the die-hard fans of candoor as we peel away something and shine a bit of light on the goings-on behind the candoor in the offline world... ordinarily this would be fodder for a briefer posting in the RealTime� blog, but as I feel a bit of ramble coming on and that blog is meant to be brief, I come here to pour the life in black and white out again so you might have, should you care to, another look at my more personal bits... you may be wondering what happened to me as I've hardly been online at all in recent weeks and have neglected my blogMad chat friends and my diaryland buddies and hardly visit the onion personals site blog anymore... well, if you are coming from there I do miss you and it's not that I love you any less, it's just that I've allowed the offline world to take over most of my time and the writing I was doing at work (until tonight) was supplanted by actual work as I went ahead with a few paper projects I proposed for the hospital... at home, the mundane fills the life in black and white lately what with Precious on summer break and having nothing much to do this summer but wait for someone to offer her rides (not exactly sure why she's chosen not to get her learner's permit and drive for the past year and a half as all her friends not only did, but a few have cars of their own already... but I think it has something to do with a squirrel... poor thing) and ask for money... she has applied for a job or few, but a bit too late and too selectively and only half-heartedly I think... I suppose it's not easy to leave the comfort zone of having everything done for you, but I sure hope she takes more initiative next year when she's off to college... she isn't the first to extend a completely dependent childhood as far as it'll go, but in so many ways she's stubbornly independent too that somewhere inside of her she must be itching to cure the boredom that comes with total dependence... besides, she's cute and cuddly and fun to be around... so blaming her for my lack of babbling on in my written gardens is easy and fun and I'm sure gonna miss her when she finally does step out of the nest, so I'll enjoy what might be the last summer with her as a kid and alas, leave you dear readers fewer words... I miss you too, lots, and hopefully the reduction in comments is a sign that you too have busy summers that you are enjoying... just in case you are sitting around mopping over feeling lonely cuz you don't have much going on this summer... deep breath... I feel that too... I mean, after all, it's not as if I have much going on myself... living vicariously through Precious and her friends is fun, but hardly satisfies the hunger for sharing more intimacy and passion so I am lonely and the intimate parts of my heart remain numbly bored... love for family, love for work, love for professional bonding and the emotional intimacy of the work I do helps a lot, but still I don't fool myself into forgetting the romance and true love bonding I live for... the feeling of being a pathetic loser with no life washes over me like a slimy chicken gravy bath more often than I want to acknowledge or express, so for what it's worth, you are not alone if you happen to find yourself feeling something similar too... of course I know I made my own bed, tiny and broken as it is, and I occasionally actually lay down in it to sleep even... I made some dang fool choices in mates in this life and still lick the wounds from time to time (and pretend to enjoy those gravy baths as the pity party continues on some level and will, if just to prove I am still alive inside, until the next time I fall in love and share it in real time in the physical world)... I don't pretend that complete healing and certainty that I can actualize unconditional trust again can happen until I actually do it... my heart is a big dumb loyal puppy that can be adopted by virtually anyone but will never give up on those who have adopted it in the past... so the whole of my experience travels with me as the foundation for the next emotional mansion, even as I can still step off into the moment and let everything go (among my many mental skills and clever tricks {I can sit, lay down, roll over, even beg}, I am practiced at temporary dementia as the infant inside, nurtured by the child inside, is alive and well and living on a cloud not far from cloud nine)... and with tongue in cheek and sincere tear in eye I ask from time to time, and quite rhetorically at that, if I should worry about being a spring baby or continue seeking enlightenment without worry?... I prefer the second task, and yet, as I live and breathe, I believe that searching for something that already exists in my head is an act of desperation to find sharing and fend off loneliness bought in a five and ten cent store (or dollar store, counting for inflation), so the seeking I do is through memory and that hopefully radiates outwardly in all directions as being expansive is the goal of the moment (life too) and centered is the goal of all time (now too)... and suicide is so much the opposite of all that... so as an aside, in my continuing semi-conscious effort to get into the Guinness Book for the most convoluted abstract and ridiculous (car) mixed-metaphors, I continue rambling along in words and in life with all the conviction of the Mad Magazine kid (Alfred E Neuman) I smile my best "What Me Worry? smile and join Charlie Brown in a game of kickoff, trusting the that the next Lucy might not pull the rug out from under my feet... meanwhile, I have so little free time to myself that anyone outside of my head (or selected entries with paragraphs like the ones above) might think everything is perfectly satisfactory in my world as I indulge the wasted child the TV and drug generation with the vast emptiness that is television programming and accept the distractions of music (that's the really fun part) and interactive time with roommates... I also spent something like ten hours studying baseball statistics and rearranging my sixteen fantasy baseball teams (as if I can take any of them really seriously when I have so many) and I inadvertently joined a fantasy football draft that apparently would not let me out even after the computer at Yahoo put up the "your team has been deleted" screen so I have a ridiculously poorly drafted team that I have no intention of playing because I deleted the team because the commissioner of the league was changing things too much and as if to prove my instinct right, he continued changing things after the draft to benefit himself and his friends who were there... sad sign of how winning is so everything for some people that cheating is acceptable... I don't understand what satisfaction anyone can get from winning a game they rigged in their favor... anyway, it was Rasputin's idea to join a football draft and sure enough he bailed out but my team got stuck in that league because I followed through on his idea... such a team player and good friend I am, aye?... perhaps this aspect of the life in black and white behind the candoor these days is what prompted the introspective pondering of personal responsibility for one's circumstances in life... at least I think that's what I was doing in this entry... there are so many loose ends scribbles into so many files and it's been weeks since I spent time gathering the strings of words and putting entries together, so my thoughts are scattered on the winds of chance and external influences more than usual... I include this bit of information for those few of you who actually read and care about me... something in the way she moves... yes, it's so easy to fall in love, but it takes two, ba-aby, it takes two... so as I go slipsliding away into song lyrics now, I leave you with the positive thought that you are not alone... here, right before you, just a telephone call away, is a happy-go-lucky child skating through life with one foot in the grave and the other on cloud nine (not to mention a head in oblivion)... and right next to that idiot savant is a pathetically depressed old geyser spouting off about life and love and everything as if he really knows something about the makings of a universe and humanity and spiritual stuff... take your pick... though those who choose the pity party, pompous or pathetic, need to be warned that the child might fart or do something ridiculous at any time in order to fly away to cloud nine and have some fun, even if it's just in my mind... the blues are profound songs to sing and I love a great emotional catharsis, but after all is said and done I'll be laughing at myself for the pathos from the security of my true self, often disembodied, that's bouncing around in the light above the clouds waiting for another playmate to come along... and there, for tonight, is your visit with the madman on the other side of the wall...
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