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odd todd
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the superficial
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the onion
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(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?)

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real doll (p)
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PO BOX 780398
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send me some music
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last---past---next---now
�2006 Candor Communications


2006-05-15 - 12:18 p.m.

from my madhouse to your couch


something could have been something so beautiful if I could only remember what something that was but I don't really want to longer in lament any longer tonight I want someone to respond to something I write, but not because I ask and not to pass the time, I want someone to be drawn into the meaning of the rhyme and understand what I feel at the bottom line someone free to come to me and share some space in real time

dang, the loneliness is thick in the air tonight which should mean that the desire to share is high (since I am only lonely when I want to share and no one is around) and those around here at work are not the kind of sharing I seek not that we could chat, but the hunger for sharing reaches way beyond what anyone I know has offered and I do not want to be satisfied with what amounts to superficial sharing tonight and yet, I do not wish to lament either would that suggest I am ready to go out somewhere and seek more people in the hope that one might offer the deeper sharing I seek? alas, we will not know the answer the that question as I am going to be here at work and it is 2:00 AM

so I write

and so it goes in my original online journal I'd let the words flow into rhyme without any filtering or editing (and, in fact, those who knew me in personal correspondence know that I'd send dozens of pages of prose mixed with rhyme as it flowed without any omissions at all), but here in this place I tend to pull out the rhymes more often than not and leave only the prose it is an experiment in editing my babbling flow for public presentation as I know some are rather dramatically turned off instantly by even the format of a poem or lyric that they click away (or rate poorly, judging by candora'sVARB) and miss the point because they don't read the words for content

I find that many do that online

form and design is all some seem to see, which is ok, because everyone has the right to choose what turns them on and what they make meaningful in their lives and if centered prose or a lyrical rhyme or the colors or design of a page prevents you from seeing there is a person pouring him or herself into words in the hope that someone might relate, well, maybe it's a lost opportunity or maybe it's for the best in any case, I've chosen to spread my endless stream of words over many web sites over the years and here, behind the candoor, you'll find mostly the prose that flows between the rhymes

if you enjoy lyrical rhymes, just click on the links (though in fact most links are not to my other writings, some are rhyming expressions of the prose and if you get the feel of the flow of my words you'll probably be able to distinguish when a link is telling you that a rhyme came next in the flow and when a link is simply pointing to someone else's page that related to the content I tried to put in the words when in doubt, just ask, cuz it'd be a shame if you actually would appreciate the rhymes and you miss them because they were omitted here in this experiment in prose)

but there I go distracting myself with housekeeping, with form and format

for those who want to know I'll pour my heart out
I'll strip down naked and bare my soul
for those who care to see, I'll expose everything
ask any question, take the control

and tell me what you want from me - I want what is true
I offer up my honesty - that's what I want from you
I'm all about the sharing, that's why I am alive
and I will be here sharing, for those who are caring
when you arrive


yeah, well sometimes I break my own rules just to prove I can and if that turned you off from reading on or from knowing me (you couldn't know me anyway if you have no appreciation for the music in the words), well, I hope you find what you're looking for and please be kind as you leave because I wish you well, not ill will, poor ratings, or any sort of harm and excuse my laughter as I puzzle my face in self-query over this appearance of concern over ratings that has popped up twice in this entry already

dang, the insecurity bugs seem to fly rather well when the air is thick with loneliness and I love the amusement I find in that line, even if I am the only one who sees the thread of reasoning woven through (perhaps cuz the rhymes are elsewhere) and it reminds me of a little ditty I wrote as a much younger child about the bugs in NY beaches it was a bit of a protest song I wrote as I laid out on a deserted stretch of a beach called Jones (I wonder if there is a beach called Smith somewhere) and covered my head, making a tent out of my blanket, shirt, and towels, because the little black flies were so boldly buzzing around my head I was much more active in environmental causes (and so many other causes) back then

oh the bugs are really bad on NY beaches
but the bugs are really bad most everywhere
guess they just come follow where the people do
cuz people seem to leave garbage everywhere
the bugs like it when people do not care


there's more and others added verses as they sang along in those hippie-dippy protest marching years of my ancient youth (or is that just another of the many fantasies in my mind oh by the time we got to Woodstock we were half a million strong), but that's all my memory will recall for you at the moment since I am trying to make a point about how little I rhyme here in this experiment in prose (and if you have any clue as to how my mind works then you know it is so very apropos that I'd include rhymes as I explain that I edit them out)

if you've never heard Arlo Guthrie tell a story, then you wouldn't have the reference I might give you if I said I kind of think a little like Arlo Guthrie tells a story, but listen to The Pause of Mr. Claus or even the full version of Alice's Restaurant one day and you may get a little closer to the more organized aspects of my thought processes

yes, I know what I said

I couldn't exactly explain why, but I think ender would understand which might be a scary thought for anyone who actually knows either of us, but then, a mind is a terrible thing to waste, or even half a mind, as smoog knows too well just ask gump or hiss or dangerspouse if you don't believe me

but what do you do when you believe you can fly (and you believe you can touch the sky) and those around you are tethered, of their own volition, to the ground of fears and insecurities and the mundane tasks and worries of life all the tired horses in the sun, how'm I s'posed get any riding done? there are those who sit sweating over the news and world affairs, spending their time debating which politician said what and why and who knows what's best for the world I am not one of those people it's not that I don't care, it's that I want something else out of life

I want to be in love

yeah, so anyway, be that as it may be and all, I still wake up whenever it is I wake up (working nights, I can't very well say I wake up every morning) and put my pants on one leg at a time like everybody else who puts their pants on one leg at a time except for those times when I put my pants on two legs at a time cuz I happen to be laying down and my pants are in reach and in case I started a mild controversy or set hearts a-flutter (in my dreams, I know) when I confessed to wearing boxers around the house most of the time, let it be known that I wear briefs under my pants so it's brief under pants and boxer when I'm not wearing pants

and now that we've cleared that bit of imaginary controversy up, what else might I find slipping out of my mind tonight? for the purists among us, this entry is mostly the prose culled from what is so far four pages of typed single spaced typed babbling in plain Arial 8pt font between half inch side and top margins that'd be a lot of paper to fill with such a small font for the average babbler, but being me I must say that I have so much more to say the words are literally tripping over themselves to get out of my head and through my fingers just think, I used to fill hundreds of pages with words like these for those lucky few who inspired me to believe they might actually care to read so much rambling on

oh the thousands of hours and many many thousands of pages I spent giving pleasure to myself and the odd correspondents that fawned over the pages they'd receive in their mail but it was much more than an ego trip, mind you, it was a love affair with the written word and while I am the first to admit that much of my babbling is repetitious drivel, I was blessed to find some who sifted through the massive missives to find something worth much to them and in telling me, they gave me that feeling of worth I wrote for when I trusted others to come deep into my heart and psyche through words

do I not trust just so now? ah, the question most avoided by those who wish to be loved but who are afraid to trust anyone to do it for them or something like that I must answer honestly and say I do and I don't that is, I trust as much as I am able and I am certain that is much more than most of you trust me and yet I do not think I will trust as I once did letting myself fall in love and fantasize about the real time real world sharing that will be when we come together that sort of pretending the future will be as I want it to be has burned me enough for one lifetime and I'll leave timeless literary romance for the fantasy world in which it belongs and trust the moment to tell me what sharing is real

former fans can write to try to change my mind, if any of you are out there, but my paper fantasies are just that these days in spite of how real they may appear to those who have sought court orders to keep me from stalking them

oh, you thought I was serious? well, there's always a grain of seriousness in every bit of irreverence and while I haven't been widely read, I did have a small devoted audience once upon a time and hopefully some of them will find me as I ramble online and as for the court order part, no, none have been presented to me, however I suspect I've scared a few kids along the way with my unabashed expressions of undying love, sensual passion, and all the emotional particulars that go into releasing the feelings and dreams and words a good crush can inspire

poor kids, they don't know what they're missing

so what is this entry about, anyway? the writing process? my memories of correspondence? distracting myself from the lonelies? expressing them? an example of how my mind works (or doesn't, depending on your perspective)? all of the above, perhaps, and more, this entry may be getting to the crux of why I write I write to keep myself company when no one is around who wants to hear what is really on my mind

I write in the hope that if I record what is on my mind, maybe someone will someday read me and find they like me and do want to know what is really on my mind and ultimately, maybe she will yes, her the one Ms. Right, as I seldom call her the girl of my dreams the answer to my prayers

I am suddenly hearing an old Neil Sedaka song and simultaneously remembering how I turned that song into a hysterically honest expression of needing to go to the bathroom (unfortunately, that bit of parody, or was it satire, in any case, it was lost to the ether some time back, but if you can imagine taking the melody and profound longing and devotion found in the words to the song You Mean Everything To Me and relating that to the physical passion one feels when needing to go to the bathroom very badly, then you might be almost as crazy as I am and I love you for your imagination)

and Garth Brooks To Make You Feel my Love now pours through my pores and if my co-workers only knew I was experiencing a mild emotional orgasm right before their eyes they'd all be quite embarrassed and/or amused luckily, for them at least, all they see is a grinning babbler typing madly and they are quite used to that they don't ask to read what I write, in fact, I doubt but a few know I am not doing some sort of work for one manager or another, but those who ask do have my web address so if you're out there, please make your rounds and stop interrupting the flow of genius you see before you

no, actually, what I meant to say was thank you for allowing me to peace and time to ramble on as I do your consideration is most seriously appreciated and if I ever have anything I can give back, I will like if an editor comes along and finds some way to carve some sort of best seller out of the relatively constant stream of consciousness my writing represents, well, I'll put a dedication into the book like real authors do and take you to dinner and if I suddenly find myself making Stephen King kind of money, well, I'll buy you something big and expensive that you really want

just like you'll do for me when you win the lottery, right?

yes, we can dream, but you know you'll get yours if that dream comes true as much as I tease and jest and allow irreverence to be my guide, the truth is the truth and you know if you know proof is in the pudding, as they say, and make mine thick, rich, milk chocolate

in case you were keeping count, by the way, there are four rhymes that were written during this night's session of babbling (one more coming up below) I suppose I could legitimately call these night rambles something like Babblings From the Psyche Ward, but it's all way too narcissistic for that maybe on the other hand, there is much validity in saying that my whole online written garden is ramblings from the other side of the wall, so to speak

I suppose I do offer up a challenge when it comes to actually following my train of thought since I definitely don't stay on any single track for long and so much of my mental travels are hyper-linked elsewhere even as I ramble here and who really has time to click on them all, no less read what is on the other end (and click on the links there and read what's on the other end of those links and so one and so forth) and even then, having as many of the pieces of the puzzle of thoughts I am streaming at you, would you understand the big picture even if you could put all the pieces together just right and see it?

thank you for coming back and reading anyway (is the sheepish grin showing?)

I really do love you for it for putting up with my idiosyncratic sense of humor and erratic coherence, not to mention my habit of flipping a coin about even the most serious of concepts or bits of personal information and having the unmitigated gall to appear to call both sides while it's in the air and then, as if nobody noticed, not mentioning which side came up before distracting myself on to another subject entirely

hey look, a butterfly

and did you ever wonder what purpose a butterfly actually serves in nature? I mean, do they do something that the bees don't do? or the hummingbirds, for that matter but then, who am I to question the grand design of diversity that seems to be serving life fairly well on this planet so far after all, it's not as if I go to protest rallies and sway arm in arm with fellow dreamers while singing fairy tale songs for environmental and other causes or sleep on the beach or write songs about bugs anymore, for that matter

and butterflies are free to fly, fly away even

see, I've almost forgotten just how much the loneliness aches there is some odd moaning coming from down the hall one of my co-workers is doing some strange hand motions and, oh wait, I believe she is singing and dancing in her chair to some gospel music or maybe it's rap in any case, she only knows some of the words and pipes up every now and then when those words come along and here I almost thought she was studying belly dancing on the side

another co-worker, Bert, in fact, is doing isometric exercises down the other hall he has been jumping rope on and off (apparently off more than on lately because he is suffering from shin-splints) as he adjusts to Berry being out west did I mention Berry is out west? she flew to LA to visit her cousin and then flew up to Seattle to explore her new stomping grounds at the moment she's staying with Bert's family in Bellingham near the Canadian border, but she'll probably look for work in Seattle to experience that city life for a while Bert's planning on moving up there when the lease on their apartment runs out here, which would be the end of July I'm gonna miss them

yeah, I said Seattle

ironic, eh, as the first crush I found (as opposed to those I brought with me from Italy and other exotic places) when I came here to Diaryland back in '02 was from Seattle (she's not online at the moment to the best of my knowledge, but if you're out there, say hey) and so many others sent positive vibes (and tangible stuff too) from there, especially Annie (have I told you lately that I love you? yeah, I know, someday I might actually use the phone but at least I know you're laughing at me in your wonderful way) I'm not hot potato, right?

sometimes even I don't get all of my references, but if you ask we can explore the possibilities together and if you hum a few bars and enjoy really bad Groucho Marx impressions, I'll wiggle my imaginary cigar and sing along and yes, I must find time to study up on my Monty Python because I have forgotten so much of the references I used to find popping up all over the place in my ramblings

I wonder if it's early signs of Alzheimer's

meanwhile, we're passing the night and getting paid for it (at least I am) not great pay, but then, I am not doing great work, am I? I'd love to get paid obscene amounts for being famous, or almost famous, or behind the scenes even, or even reading the traffic and weather reports on the radio, or for doing most anything that does not require much of my time or energy, but I have not taken any sort of career planning seriously and there you have it, my lot in life

poor, but happy, but too busy working at one thing to do all I'd like to do

so why am I alone, I hear you asking of course some of you already have your answer as being poor is a big turn off for many looking for a relationship I'm existential, so sue me (there's a joke in there, somewhere) but there are those who do not play money on their list of important attributes in a mate (oh really? where?) and then we might point to my unwillingness to pretend attraction that is, if I am not attracted to someone sensually, they'll know the minute they show any desire for intimacy (and some people just can't handle that and be friends, like a certain doctor who tried seducing me in her plush bedroom on her 60 acre ranch last year) and I don't play pretentious social games much when I am alone (I can attend any sort of social gathering as a couple and fit in just fine for a friend or partner, but I don't enjoy any of the singles scenes I've explored)

so I am alone because I am a poor real person who knows what he wants (or a real poor person who wants what he knows) and rarely have I come across the right combination of conscious awareness and serious intensity and irreverent sense of humor and positivity and harmless intent and passion for life and sense of wonder and existential perspective and dedication to healthy and fitness and above all else, honesty in all things

and as the years pass I find more and more people who've given up on their ideals and compromised themselves to the point that they don't like themselves, no less actually love themselves anymore (if they ever did) and all those fears and insecurities most people carry around are such a turn off for me and honesty, well, that truly is such a lonely word

more and more I think I am from another place and time at least my consciousness feels so alien in this human culture I think (and want to believe) that human beings have similar, if not the same ideals and ethics and truths within themselves that I find in me, but I don't find anyone actualizing them (and admittedly, I've slacked in my own ways growing lazy and self-destructive in order to maintain contact and continue interacting in the hope of finding someone who might relate to me and understand where I'm coming from

anyone kapish?

well, the old clock on the wall (and increased activity in my immediate environment) is suggesting I start wrapping up and putting away the computer this entry may be long and tired, but it's definitely helped me sort through some of the muck and mire around the rut I've dug for myself these last few years (or past decade, perhaps?) even if I'm the only one who sees the glimmer of daylight peeking through the clouds and maybe I'll get less comfortable with the laziness and less complacent with the loneliness and more motivated to try something new (and what might that be, a voice from the peanut gallery asks, as if I've tried everything there is to try)

it's not the place, it's the people

it's not the person, it's the perspective

it's not the thing, it's the heart we put into the thing

and so in closing (as the distractions increase in intensity and proximity here), let me just say this about that you've been very patient with me and I really appreciate the free therapy you provide I welcome you to come out to play in my playground any time you can have your couch back now






. o O ( NOTES ARE THE NEW HAPPY PILL ) O o .
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see me - - - feel me - - - touch me - - - heal me


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the moment

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