the meaninglessness of the title may become evident if I explore the words as I have no cognitive knowledge (is that redundant?... perhaps a little?) of any reference remotely mongolian or Asian, even, nor is there any sort of rhapsody or classical or neo-classical music (or music of any sort) rolling through my conscious mind, nor is any old TV show pressing any buttons in my psyche that I can speak of... but be that as it may be...

this entire day blurred by without laying in the bed and this has been the patern for a week or two or since the first hurricane for one reason and another or more... the water dripping on to the bed might have triggered the desire to sit in the big green chair and nod off as much as the brain allows, but it is also the knowledge that there is much unfinished business in the writings... 101 emails in the new friends email folder, for instance... why, it seems like only yesterday (though it's more accurately last month) that there were only seventy-odd emails awaiting my mood to be more responsive, directly and individually, I mean... the brain does not rest when there is unfinished business in the writing cabinets...

and the emails in that particular folder are just one drawer in those cabinets... other email folders, like old friends, needle and point their way into my subconscious to keep me sitting with the laptop on my lap as if not leaving the big green chair will somehow keep me from forgetting (or neglecting) the writing assigments pending in my brain... there is so much more organization up there than I expose, mostly because there's no time to get to even a fraction of the assigements so I'm surely not going to waste time spending time documenting the organization that is fine without documentation as it's an internal mechanism that maintains whatever degree of sanity it takes to keep me from abandoning the daily contact with the part of the world that pays the bills of survival in this life... and ultimately, while I'd love to be completely understood, it really doesn't matter if anyone understands outside of myself for I am the only one in here...

anyway, the Potter books, being I have about a hundred pages left in the fourth book and the fifth sits right over there awaiting my attention, have called my name more often that not recently thanks to the nidging of several people who have been waiting patiently for me to finish them so they can discuss the plots and characters and such without spoiling the ends for me (it is amusing to watch them biting their tongues as they ask how far along I've come... and since I've dragged out book four for months now due to assorted other obligations at work and home, I certainly appreciate their patience, just in case they didn't realize that cuz I rarely mention it cuz I don't have/make much time for reading offline these days, or online, for that matter)...

and I left work this morning rushing around to get to my doctor check-up appointment and was subtly read the riot act (she's so good at such psychological warefare, I am deeply impressed with her mind) because my lack of body-care has clearly resulted in bloat and poor numbers, even though my blood pressure is lower than it was when I first went, it's not as low as she'd like it because the medical establishment has lowered the numbers for safe blood pressure in recent years... it appears that my genes might have a tendency toward high blood pressure in old age as I have noticed the increase steadily becoming noticeable over the last five to ten years... though stress and diet and exercise patters have certainly changed dramatically since Toronto, which would be at least seven full years ago now that it is 2004... wow, time flies even when you're not having gobs of fun on some levels...

as always, to some extent...

I wonder if the little digs we throw into our launguage unintentionally intended for specific people who gave us nightmarish experiences in this life will ever completely fade away or be forgotten or whether they will always be part of the thought process somewhere in our psyche, if not our actual language...

meanwhile, there are the distractions of the space, the mattress leaning against the wall and the plastic sheets covering the bedframe and other areas of the floor space and the trash piling up again and the half-done cleanings and rearrangings of stuff in the space and the seemingly endless clutter and the conversations scattered through the day about forgetfulness and last minute frustrations and worries over the next great storm and hanging participles and half-thoughts and the TV weather people repeating the same forcasts endlessly as if constant vigilence (and commercials) will do something positive for us and...

I did, for the accomplishment section of my brain, copy and return about twenty library CDs this week... and I renewed all but the six the library would not let me renew cuz they said I had too many renewals (I am not sure if that was for one time or for a twenty four hour period or all together until I return more... I still have more than sixty CDs checked out and twenty on hold for home delivery.... perhaps they have limits even though the library people think they do not...

in spite of the medical reprimands (which are taken with a wink and a nod and a grain of salt as I am very far from high risk and my doctor, love her {and why I chose her}, is quite the perfectist), I treated myself to a rare deli meal (white fish, chopped liver, pastrami, potato pancakes, and a spinach knish) and as usual, memories of the uniquely delicious selection of foods found in NYC came back to mind which created sweet memories in the misty...

hey, at least the primary shopping alert for me in emergency situations is not a last minute rush to find Pepsi and Diet Pepsi... yeah, a-hem...

so it's been a month dominated by hurricane warnings and scavanging for survival on top of the usual waste and bad habits dominating the space here at casa de candoor and I sit back more amused than frustrated because that's just how I am most of the time hoping some more positive influences will move in (and you know the number, the address, and the door is open... there's only so much activing fishing I can personally do out there in the offline world without completely abandoning the things that must be done for basic survival, after all)...

and now we come to the 9/11 tributes and I really wish the TV would go off for a while (part of me enjoyed the loss of power a whole lot more than the parts of me that grumbled about the inconveniences and physical discomforts)...

the environmental distractions have taken their toll as the momentum I had when I sat down here to write this entry is dissappating (and being mispelled, naturally)... I want more irreverent, so I shall go off to find some and be back when I do...

hope your day was more or less cohesive, to you liking...

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