I'm not sure just how... I was writing it all day, or most of the day, in between long naps here in the big green chair... and I don't know what happened to yesterday's entry either, which sucks if you're me, because I really want to keep in touch and if I don't even find time to write a diary entry every day, well, then how will I ever keep in touch?... yes, the phone is quicker and easier (unless you have a fear of voice, which I don't, but then, I have other phone issues that you might be able to read about here if I remembered the date right... yeah, I used to go both ways... Dland and LJ, that is... I still do, just not daily.. heck, I've been having trouble keeping up here in this one daily, no less all the others {and that isn't actually all of them, but most, at least}... but anyway, I will search the cells between my ears for yesterday's entry to see if I can find anything more than earwax for you)...

come to think of it, today's entry might have been an email...

once again I come to the dilemma of uncertainty about posting emails or other communications as diary entries... I share everything, personally, but I do not violate other people's privacy without their permission (and then it wouldn't be violating, I suppose, so i do not violate other people's privacy period... or at least ellipse... well, at least not on purpose, never on purpose... unless the person is hateful... or cruel... or deserves the humilation... not that I enjoy humiliating anyone... I'd prefer to see it as a warning, like stay away from that person or it could happen to you... know what I mean?... wait, don't get too distracted yet)...

I crave sharing... I love writing... I love sharing words... I expose myself in different ways in email (did I mention I love exposing myself?... not that I am some sort of pervert or something... then again, but that's another story... I mean, I am not really into exhibitionism... it's the private attention I love, not the applause... though I can enjoy applause too, so feel free... wait, we're getting distracted again)...

so when I write I want to share the words because it gives you a chance to know what's going on in my head and that's important to me because there's so much going on in my head that I'll never remember it all and somewhere deep inside of me I feel like something in there is really important and maybe you'll find it before I do so I try to share everything that is going on in my head...

it's very altruistic, actually...

anyway, I know that some people want to believe that email is like sacred or something, and I understand the attempt at the feeling of a personal private one on one connection but email just doesn't do that for me... anyone with half a brain and time to learn can learn to hack into a remote computer and read all the stuff typed into that computer... or this computer, for that matter... so if I had something to hide, something I would not be able to handle the world knowing, I'd not type it into a computer... luckily, I don't... have anything to hide, that is... and I deleted all the porn... well, most of the porn, anyway...

anyway (again), as much as I loathe the idea of turning away your attention, if you have a thing about ownership of words I write because the words were sent to you in email, it's probably not going to encourage me to email you... and if I have to edit myself a lot because of your privacy issues, you'll probably not inspire me to ramble on much in email... and if you are as open and crazy about sharing as I am, you'll probably see emails I wrote to you sprawled haphazardly all over the internet (not just in the places I set aside for letters, though some of my ramblings are organized a bit)...

meanwhile, I've got hundreds of emails in folders still marked unread (even though I did read them when they arrived) because I re-mark the emails unread when I want to get back to them before the other emails I have not responded to... and there are even more of those)... it's not that I get a hundred emails a week (actually, I get hundreds of emails an hour, no joke, but most are junk and filtered into deleted folders and delted before they are read... it could happen to yours occasionally by accident, which makes me cry, but I hope it doesn't and hope you are persistent if you don't hear from me for a month or so after you send me mail... if you want a response, that is... some people don't)... only a few emails end up in the new friends folder each week and I respond impulsively more than methodically... today I responded to the most recent one and it contained the seeds of several diary entries (or one really long and rambling one, but I wouldn't do that, would I?)...

ummm, I think I was on some sort of roll about something, but the roommies came along and there followed the TV (a medical investigation show... and then, a distraction I would not ignore or give only a little attention to... It's A Wonderful life... mush, pure mush... and now the movie is over... Sally went to work, Precious went to bed, so I wipe my teary eyes and grin my It's a Wonderful Life smile (if you don't have one, you haven't lived that film and you're missing something) and sigh some deep sighs and return here to continue attempting to complete the fragments of entries in and around my head...

so please allow me to introduce myself I'm a man of poverty and anonymity (sympathy is kind, but unecessary, for my mind still has wings even while my heart is in the shop)... I know all the answers and everything I need is found within because I found it long ago in those innocent toddler years, instinct told me what I needed to know long before language could begin to explain it and in the purest sense, words will never come close to the understanding (so why write?... why use words at all?... because they are here... because if there's half a chance... because I dream the impossible dream)...

and for years I wandered through growing stages, enjoying the magical wonders of limitless imagination and sensitivity and passion and enough reason to and wisdom to keep fear from being too empowered inside of me, all the while looking for something else to look at and enjoy... while my inner eye knows satisfaction, while my heart and soul (anima, spirit, whatever we shall call that which makes an individual a conscious being) were and are gleefully romping and dancing and floating through the playgrounds of my mind, my eyes still want to enjoy what they are made for, visual stimulation... my skin and all of my senses are alive and well and hungry to send all the perceptions they can take in to the brain... so I look for you, whomever you may be, you who can, you who will, to share the experience...

if we can relate to the infinite and place honesty before all else, the quest for the truth of the heart above all else, the security of knowing harmlessness within everything we do, and in every moment to actualize these ideals without doubt or hesitation...

oh what a wonderful world we could create for ourselves...

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