LIFE

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last---past---next---now



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movie database

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Harry Chapin Lyrics
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(WISH I HAD MORE TIME
TO READ and EXPLORE)

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utne reader
common dreams
the progressive
mediate
the other side
orion
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reel classics


fallout shelter
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reason
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nobody here




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odd todd
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the onion
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fark
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post secret
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ragged trousered philosopher
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the defective yeti
landover baptist
evil bible


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)
(a turn on or a laugh?)
real doll (p)
(the ultimate self-indulgence)

(or it could just be a typo)




PROMPTS
(IF YOU KNOW ONE LET ME KNOW)


Unconscious Mutterings
Friday Feast
Wednesday Whatevers
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Monday Madness
Thursday Threesom
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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


2004-01-29 - 4:03 p.m.

partial entry #84


lost words... I wrote a few comments and notes over the past day or two but they were lost in the cyber ooze as apparently the DLand server was getting some upgrading done to it or something and alas, some of the writing was decently poetic or profound or at least felt meaningful enough to mourn, even if just briefly... but you may never know that such a comment or note was meant for you for I had to shut down the laptop since then and the paths are once again broken... just of like haphazard time-space travel, when shutting down a computer... the path of links that are continuous is no longer visibly continuous and since I have a rather random brain, I don't keep any record of the cyber travels and maybe the browser does, but it doesn't tell me much... especially not where I might find the words lost or which words would have been inspired by which site... so anyway, if you felt your fingers burning, you probably were visited and thought of and had words written in your notes or comments or somewhere that were inspired by you only to be poofed into oblivion... much like what happens to our bodies eventually... so maybe that's the irony in the end, or something like that...

the preceding would not be an example of the poetic or profound references made within the preceding, just in case you wondered... nor would the following at all, but I include it perhaps in some vain attempt to find the threads that were shredded when I turned off the computer yesterday as it is where I started off today, quite randomly almost, lead by the last note I received... so I impulsively click on the banner above and read and after reading a bit about a life and then click on that aforementioned note and read a bit about L.A. and music and writing and poetry in particular (with specific reference to Porphyria's Lover (Robert Browning) and though this may be an interesting treatment, it reminded me of a favorite quote I will not credit for I have consistently consciously and unconsciously omitted the author from my mind for whatever odd reasons my mind might have (and I do not fight my mind when it puts it's mind to not minding not giving credit, which it does from time to time with certain essential words I might call core credo phrases or something like that), but will quote now just the same:



"if you do not understand my silence,
you will not understand my words"

author's note: for those of you getting as lost as the words references earlier, welcome to the tangential flow of my mind and apologies if the sign* was not prominently displayed when you came in... we will continue now.

and The Broken Heart (John Donne) which further lead me to profound depths we shall not touch upon for the moment except to point out rather lightly that she did it though I never (still not yet) have found the words to do her or the profundity of the experience justice and all of a sudden, this came out:

I'm still learning and have always had an aversion to reading anything that was supposed to be good, no less 'classic' literature because (or so I told myself) "how can I be me, totally original and truly creative, if I allow what everybody else thinks is great stuff to seep in and influence what might come from inside of me without any influences"... of course the folly is there are influences seeping into the womb before we take our first breath and there's no escaping them, there's only filtering them through selection and avoidance and all that energy put into building walls or walking/running away influences our paths as much if not more than anything else, so I suppose I am warped in my own unique way, just like everybody else... all that to say, I am learning from you and appreciate you for your knowledge, opinions, links, and whatnot... thank you for reminding me that I am still not dead yet (there is a kind of grin that fits there that text can not quite convey, so it is left for imagination).

which is no profound monument to anything, really, but does mark where I've been today so far and leaves me with a jump off point for further contemplation that I have been putting off with procrastinatory expertise henceforth not witness by any living being... really, it's right here in case you thought I just made that up... and yes, mental note to self and you readers who care, read her more)... and it got me to thinking about how close (or far, depending on perspective) to dead I actually am or might be as I can, after living for what feels like a few thousand years, feel rather old at times, but then, that feeling is never real for me when I wake up from the self-pathetic malaise from which it oozes, I mean, whatever depressed feelings I feel in the course of a day or week or throughout this life are and have always been more like a laughable dream than the real me... and I figure as long as it leaves me laughing, I'm, ok with the downbeats...

but what is a much less pleasant thought is just how far I have wandered from my own energy level, how lazy and apathetic I have become physically, how out of touch with all of the life-giving and inspiring energies I consider part of me... music would be close to the top of that list if we were creating such a list of influences and energies... not just going out to clubs and listening to music, but most of all singing and becoming part of music myself... and even the private listening has dwindled to naught in recent years mostly because I forget to put on headphones and have not lived alone or had a musical roommate in several years, at least... nostalgia for the nineties, when music was always surrounding and permeating me, is suddenly bursting open inside of me like a bud that just decided it was time to bloom...

and the nineties were not even my most musical decade and I spent the first part of them in the boon docks of Florida driving downtown to clubs most nights but making my own solitary energy without much companionship and that was the highest energy time of the nineties even though I lived in Toronto for a while and a couple of other cities and I think back further and wonder if I miss the energy of New York (where I spent most of my wayward youth, so to speak, and first learned about love and life and intensity {and sex and crime and social games and graces} and all those teenage crushes) and even L.A. more than I want to let on... do we really have to get old and die according to some schedule?... not if you're super rich and appreciate life energy like, for instance, a Hugh Hefner or some old rockers like the Stones I suppose, but without the cash to pay for the high energy life, unless we are lucky enough to hook up with a soulmate or partner in crime or whatever we call him/her that completes us even though we were actually complete without them, there's only a vast desert of solitude ahead in the golden years for most of us... now that is a chilling thought...

maybe my biological clock alarm just went off and suggested I wake up again... damn snooze button...


* proceed at your own risk






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