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SITES I SEE A LOT
IxQuick Search
Google Search
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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
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reason
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REFERENCE LIBRARIES

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all musicals




AMUSEMENTS

Diaryland Times
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ill will press
the guide
purple
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maximum awesome
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something awful
glossy news
eric conveys emotion
odd todd
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the superficial
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the onion
god checker
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post secret
webby awards
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the white house
ragged trousered philosopher
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the defective yeti
landover baptist
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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)
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real doll (p)
(the ultimate self-indulgence)

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PROMPTS
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Unconscious Mutterings
Friday Feast
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Monday Madness
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(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


2006-05-02 - 8:38 a.m.

music is the never ending story


you hear a line like "I can still see dad running after me with a shovel in his hand I don't remember much after that' and in my irreverent brain the first reaction is laughter, but then, recalling my profession (working with abused kids) and coming back from the fairy tale clouds upon which I reside when not actively engaged with humanity in any serious manner, I further recalled Bowling For Soup (the musical group, not the activity) and a certain song with that line in it and if I recall still further and at all correctly, it was not a very happy song

still, it is a way to introduce the gifts I received in the mail and myself still further for my initial reaction is a perfect example of how I perceive about everything, at least initially not only because my particular line of work is full of trauma and tragedy and to maintain my own functional sanity a certain escape clause must be written into the contract I made with my brain a long time ago when my brain sort of demanded that I grow up just enough to hold down a job so I could earn enough money to feed it and buy some stimulants for it (like computers for writing, since I tried all the drugs I could find and nothing worked to shut the bugger up which is why we spend so much time writing, you see), but also because I refuse to give up the knee-jerk belief that everything is beautiful in it's own way and the human heart intends no harm and nobody is serious about hurting anyone else so any thoughts or stories of hurting must be jokes, right?

shhhh, I do know better I just don't always want to remember all I know when I am rambling on in the safety of my written gardens if you understand that, then welcome to my world and if you don't understand that, then welcome to my nightmare and as Alice said, hope it doesn't scare ya

before I get too involved in the current wonder that arrived in the mail this weekend, let me thank willowfox for sending a most amusing (and slightly confusing, as any comedic experience ought to be) CD I mentioned it in a diary entry shortly after receiving it, but that's one of the drawbacks of my endless babbling and daily ramblings, a paragraph of thank you could fly by so fast that it's too easily missed so maybe this time I'll actually remember to head over and leave a thank you note or comment, right?

the best of intentions (as I sit here at work writing without an internet connection hoping I remember when I get home hours and hours and thousands of words from now shhhh, I am writing myself a note at the top of this file) anyway, Precious and I listened to the CD the day I found it at the PO Box and we laughed lots

as you may notice, I decided to just upload as I write, to be myself, and if that's too much and most of it's missed by most, then oh well... I'm not gonna find the person right for me by being something I'm not... yeah, there's a song like that, ya know...

before I forget, we did go to see the afternoon show of Evita at Precious's school and it was pretty good for a high school production with an egocentric control-freak prude of a director (but maybe she's a nice person if you get to know her I just find too many high school teachers, especially ones involved in extra curricular activities where their word is law, get an annoying superiority trip going because they are so used to playing god with people who are almost adults) she dedicated the play to a family member who died (who has nothing to do with the high school) and forgot to introduce, congratulate, or give a final bow to the seniors who are graduating in a month or so

she is known for playing favorites and kicking key players out if they don't kiss her butt well enough or if they have school work that makes them miss a rehearsal she did that to one of the seniors this year which put a damper on the whole production as everybody missed him and nobody wanted to say anything at risk of being thrown out for having feelings and expressing them self-righteous self-serving idiots in charge of kids irritate me, can you tell?

after the show the cast broke up quickly and some went to a local restaurant Raspy and I went for ribs at a restaurant down the street and we made some sort of agreement that we won't be eating out or ordering in for the next two months I'll be amazed if he does that heck, as much as I've picked up his habits, I'll be amazed if I do it but both wallet and waistline will be much happier if I do focus

and now, back to the beginning of this entry

so today I find an envelope in my PO box with something solid inside that seemed CD shaped and my first thought is Smed? but then I remembered this would be about two weeks ahead of his schedule and looked at the return address (clever of me, aye?) and see it's from a place that always makes me think of clueless (and I hope you're laughing too, dear E-Beth cuz you know my warped sense of humor means no harm and I sure don't want to upset anyone, especially not a Texan, but my joyous exuberance must tease to keep me quietly on the ground, you know? and it would not be wise to leave the ground much or make too much noise at work

unlike the rather loud pair of staff having an inappropriate conversation just down the hall alas, distractions present themselves at the most inopportune times here and the sad thing is it's too often the staff who require the redirection to maintain professional behavior so one staff is making rounds while on her cell phone, talking as she is goes from bedroom to bedroom supposedly checking on the kids and another staff is shouting complaints about the kids behaviors in a conversation with the nurse in charge (who should be doing the redirecting since cell phones are not permitted, especially not in the patient areas, and conversations about patients are to be held privately besides, it's sleep time, not wake and provoke the patients time)

a few sharp glances at the nurse helped quiet the conversation, which is the best I can do without taking it to administration since she's in charge and since in this place, admin tolerates just about anything from nurses because nurses are so hard to come by, especially since this place pays substantially less than the state average for nurses it would seem that most staff do not take a night shift position seriously as all they seem to want to do is socialize and complain about the few times they work other shifts loudly and they wonder why I stay to myself down the hall where the kids try to sleep but it's not the night for a work rant, so I'll let them be and focus on where I am

now where was I

ah yes, finding CDs in the mail and sitting here at work listening to the mystery CDs did I mention that is what I was doing? yes, well, that is what I am doing thanks to sweet dear wonderful E-Beth who must be thanked profusely in some powerful way just as soon as I figure that way out I have a list of songs too, though some are unknown to me (and listening here at work is challenging for the same reason the loud conversation down the hall is not cool here, I must regulate the volume of each song so I don't lose myself in the music and wake the kids

so sure enough I put the first CD on and Halifax wakes me up and I start laughing (long before Bowling for Soup, mind you) cuz it's so easy for me to laugh when I am happy excited and few things inspire my happy excitement as much as music, especially when it's an unexpected gift but I also started laughing cuz I was fumbling for the volume control and realized two things

I rarely listen to music at work because I maintain as stealth a presence in the hallway as possible and I rely on my ears to tell me what's going on with the kids down the hall

and I way too easily forget how my mostly dead condition of recent times is largely due to the absence of music from my physical experience and how suddenly I can almost reawake when music sneaks up and bites me on the psyche

compromise is obviously necessary, but for now I am reveling in the happy excitement inspired by the gift of music and as I glance at the list of songs for this first CD that is almost over and I smile a tearful smile realizing somebody gave me music E-Beth took the time to put music on a CD (three CDs) and send it to me I am special I am rewarded what goes around came around (it's true, it really works)

so I'm a puddle of mush (kind of like Dorothy at the end of The Wizard of Oz as Liam Lynch ever so appropriately (because I love the irony of the timely juxtaposition of emotions) sings My United States of Whatever and I am torn between putting this CD on again and listening a little closer (though I know I will not allow myself to immerse into the music as I once knew how to do because I am here at work and my job is to be alert to my surroundings and also because it's been so long and I've not been at the right space for a musical catharsis without private space in years and I avoid that well lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie lie go ahead, name that tune, I dare ya)

so ok, being that I am here at work and must maintain some measure of stealth and professional decorum cuz that is not just my job, it's my adventure, especially with the crew on Sunday nights, I take a deep breath and glance up at the ceiling promising myself, somewhere in the back of my mind, that I will make time to listen to these CDs at home when I am not distracting myself with other stuff, like even letting the musical messages slip into my subconscious subliminally by listening to them as I fall asleep (which could be dangerous unless the person making the CDs meant them to be subliminal messages and even then, who knows, aye?) and I put on the second CD

and by the second song I am flashing back to Toronto, 1996, the last time music was anywhere near real for me outside of my head (now isn't that sad?) and wouldn't you know it took the line yeah momma this surely is a dream from Marcy Playground's Sex & Candy to slip a giggle bubble through my irreverence to take me down to strawberry fields forever once again (you had to be there)

and it's all such a controlled flight tonight, in spite of the fact that I am not actually at the controls of the inspiration suddenly I want to know everything each of these songs mean Ben Kweller is spooky so I opened up my ears so much wax has built up and so much crap caught in the wax the wax is protects the brain, you know and I never thought I'd be one who gave up trying

it's just not the right time or place for a good crying

and I wouldn't be caught dead lying, so I just remain silent as the parade goes by and I look at the telephone and realize I've actually been there, in the phone, I mean (and other references for other layers of sharing at other times and that is a secret so rarely shared, that each of these entries could also be a letter and each letter I've ever written has had many layers of meaning that are only revealed by re-reading the words and asking questions about the paths they might have taken and that too was last anywhere near real for me outside of my head {which means someone else was sharing the physical experience, in case you missed that the first time} in Toronto, 1996 I suddenly feel rather older luckily, not old, but suddenly older weird feeling hopefully it'll pass like gas right out my ass {oh really?} and that analogy certainly helped move it along with a chuckle now if I will only get the motivation to exercise and wake up back, aye?)

it would appear that no single thought will be permitted to go on for more than a line or two before a parentheses comes along to quite nearly swallow it and disperse it amongst a myriad of possibilities that challenge me to focus and find the thread and challenge you to do whatever you will do

and the method to my madness, well, if it needs to be explained you missed the point and as Alice said, hope it doesn't scare ya the fact remains that the fact remains, even if nobody notices, no matter how misunderstood the words become, no matter how many eyes perceive what isn't there or what is there but is not the point or how many are left behind in the darkest rest stops as the cathartic journey returns, finally, to the waking light

while my ultimate goal may still be to find the words to express it to as many as possible, my momentary goal had better be to regain my own thread of consciousness and reestablish my conscious awareness and save myself from getting lost along the way

so am I listening to the music on the CDs dear E-Beth sent or am I diving into my psyche to perform some voodoo or emotional whatsis on myself or just being an irreverent genius or a serious fool or something else altogether? does it depend on the babble inside or the people you meet or some unspoken revelation, oh can I get a witness?

call Bad Religion for The Defense

yes, your honor, I am quite mad, but they haven't been able to lock me up based on my admission because I carefully avoided getting the precise credentials that would allow me to legally diagnose myself and I carefully walk the line when interviewed by anyone who does have said credentials and I will continue to do that for as long as I have the cognitive skills or until they guarantee I will be locked up with 24/7 internet access and at least 20 hours a day to provide myself my own therapy as long as I do not present a danger to myself or anyone else I might accept a compromise if they lock me up with a libido fantasy who happens to find me irresistible

wait, have we left the music? am I dissing E-Beth by flying off into my own peculiar brand of irreverent (and perhaps irrational) free associative babbling? oh surely I do not intend any such disrespect or offense but Come On! Feel the Illinoise! must certainly be some sort of subliminal message to incite a quiet riot, no doubt and Robyn has one of those voices that give me the pedophilic shivers when I start imagining her popping her jeans so who am I to say I am being any sort of misunderstood irreverent babbling fool?

someone must be laughing now (and I am hearing Harry Chapin in spite of the new sounds spreading my ears eagle and raining down upon my psyche, which is a very excellent thing, actually, for it suggests a fitting into the natural flow of the energy of the songs and the mind)

and I am hearing Spanish and French and German and assorted other languages in my head (and in my ears too, which is what might be awakening some residual genetic language in my head, even though I consciously recall very little of any language other than English and now I want translations, so I must make time to search sometime soon), but it is taking me back to 1991 when I spend much time with people working for Disney (and his gorgeous sister from Lyon who spoke minimal English so we spoke with out hands a lot and learned some of each others spoken language too and for whom I shot a modeling portfolio because back then I was still much serious about my photography and had professional equipment with which to do such things and we drove down to Miami, but most of the shops were closed) and I spoke with accents and ran 6 minute miles routinely for long distances and weighed 160 pounds and felt much more intelligent and sexy and worldly

how far the wunderkind has fallen

but what I remember is all the new music they brought over from Europe with them and what they found here with their new ears that I had not heard at the time Prefab Sprout, Beautiful South, Blue Rodeo and so much more that slipped out of conscious memory, but holds a dear place in my heart nonetheless so much music and wonder and creativity and musical sharing and friendship and love that was torn apart by Toronto, 1996 and further shredded by AA, 2001 I shall resurrect myself to live and love and trust again as unconditional as I know I can when that right person comes along so no worries

I am loving the fact that I am actually listening to music I am loving the fact that I am actually listening to music someone else shared with me I am loving the fact that I am listening to music that is new to me and at least half of it is new to me, which would be surprising ten years ago, but today, what with my relatively total abstinence from music exploration (or sex with music, for that matter, because you must truly make love to the music to make it your own and begin to understand it, but that may be more than many want to know) , so I feel kind of like I left myself high and dry because so much has been sung and played without my knowledge

bless E-Beth for taking a step toward filling me in

but there was something so much more intimately personal threading its way through this entry (so many memories and fragments of me, in fact, so many shards of myself that have been carelessly left at the bottom of the last suitcase I unpacked and in fact, I have not traveled with a suitcase since my somewhat conservative period playing house with Sandy in the eighties when we would take about five weeks each summer and drive down the coast to spend a few weeks playing in the theme parks in Orlando mostly I've been a backpack kind of guy and most recently, boxes and Rubbermaid tubs

and as if the coincidence was planned, I have been unpacking all the boxes and tubs I've filled in the past five years since the fiasco with AA in January, 2001 when she seduced my trust only to steal everything (about ten grand worth of stuff, but the real hurt is the irreplaceable stuff, just like Toronto all over again) I owned including my 150 CD start at rebuilding and reconnecting with music and 90's computer with all my writings and everything else that made a life and was starting to recreate me

and as if material stuff no longer holds any meaning for me (which is what I've been telling myself for some time now), I find mostly junk and trash (unnecessary paper, bills, and assorted odds and ends) in the boxes but it's taken weeks to sort through the papers anyway because I want to make sure I am not throwing out anything that does hold value for me and I did find some legal papers that would be a real pain to replace (as they were when she kept them in Toronto) and some stuff that came in the mail that I was just not ready to let in at the time (isn't that an obscurely revealing confession)

and as Morissey and Mos Def play me into a sweet musical place yea yea yea yea, I realize it is time to pop the third disk into the CD player one of these days I might do it up the way Smed does, listing each track and giving a professional quality assessment of the sound and experience of the music, but at this point in my rambling lifestyle I am casual, if not sloppy about my musical experience and mention what I am hearing randomly, haphazardly, and sometimes obscurely just cuz that's the way the babbler babbles tonight

another sudden thought that's been popping up lately is how I've been neglecting my read of my diaryland family (favorites seems like such a competitive and judgmental word and I hope my pointing that out to myself helps me to remember to stop using it) and writers I love to read since I've started spending so much time BlogMad (and making new friends there is much fun, but I must find a way to integrate my reading here with my reading there or at least balance my time so that I have time for both and squeeze in some time for me and exercise and life offline too, cuz that is where my sharing is lacking most these days, after all)

yes, that too

in the past month I've discussed living in Seattle, Portland, Saratoga, Tucson, and San Diego (actually, the past week) and I know a few of you have encouraged me to think about two of those places, but for the moment it is just talk






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