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last---past---next---now
( FEATURED OTHERS 'n STUFF )

MEG AND DIA!

ORLANDO?

WHERE IT BEGAN


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ONE. . . WHY
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o O ( ALTERNATIVE MEDICINE ) O o

CONVERSATION WITH GOD

MEANING OF LIFE
FORWARD THIS ENTRY
INTELLIGENT DESIGN

(SEE WHAT THE POPE SAYS)

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ABOUT ZOOPLA

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FAT MAN WALKING
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last---past---next---now



SITES I SEE A LOT
IxQuick Search
Google Search
itools references
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
the memory hole
song meanings
truth out
wil wheaton
bugmenot
global news matrix
break for news
are you generic?
neil gaiman
h2g2
daily kos
the truth laid bear
reason
capitol hill blue
boing boing
nobody here




SITES I AM CONSIDERING
SEEING MORE OFTEN

3Hive
metafilter
comics
digg





REFERENCE LIBRARIES

questia
wikipedia
gutenberg
internet public library
deep web search engines
itools references
movie database
Giga-Quotes
rare-lyrics
all musicals




AMUSEMENTS

Diaryland Times
home star runner
hell
hell too
sinfest
ill will press
the guide
purple
despair
maximum awesome
86 the onions
straight dope
something awful
glossy news
eric conveys emotion
odd todd
cracked



CULTURE

the superficial
darwin awards
this is true
urban legends
news of the weird
church of the fsm
the onion
god checker
faqs
fark
iGod
post secret
webby awards
meetup
the white house
ragged trousered philosopher
the smoking gun
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
Sunday Brunch
Monday Madness
Thursday Threesom
Saturday Questions




(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


2005-08-07 - 12:00 a.m.

from reality to fantasy (a first entry)


entering diaryland

so this is diaryland... why am I here?... do I want attention?... after years of writing a journal of sorts on my website in which I call out for attention, that seems like a foolish question... and yet, if I really want more attention, why didn't I create a more public journal or diary like this before?... shy?... timid?... vulnerable?... complicated?... as if you have answers...

dear readers (should you find these words)... I am here to share words... may you find some worth in the time you spend reading... may you find even more worth in the content (and may I find content with which we can both be content one day... actually, I'd prefer touched, moved, inspired, excited, ecstatic, even intrigued to content... adored would be good too)...

does it work?


dear reader

we can be kind
we can be cruel
we can be wise
we can be fools
we can pour ourselves into words for all the world to see
we can
if you are like me

we can be real
we can pretend
we can be strangers
we can be friends
we can share naked souls though words for all the world to see
we can
if you are like me

if you crave attention
have an insatiable muse
if you hunger for
someone to adore
and someone to adore you

if you need an audience
for the life you live in words
you know it is true
if you adore me
I adore you

dear reader
we can be anything we want to be
we can
if you are like me

...of course we don't have to be alike, in fact, we can be anything we want to be (do I really need to explain this?...


eye candy

well this seems to be right on time... this diary, that is... for the first time in many months, I can not connect to the FTP server for my website (and the seemingly endless maze (there's also a journal there) I call my written gardens, so here I am... believe in fate bringing us together?... if you are one of my many libido fantasies, please do... if you are one of my literary fantasies, please do... if you are a critic, strive to develop a meaningful existence...

meanwhile, the night is full of music... not my first choices, but definitely enough eye candy to have me looking up from the computer screen now and then... three concerts on the aptly nicknamed boob toob (Britney, Janet, and Madonna)... a bit more rambling (and spontaneous) kind of review is available in journal form (if you really want to know)...

and now, after a week break, I wander back into Jen Chapin and Gavin Friday, still my current OD music (going on a month now, though not daily)... OD music is a CD or few that I've chosen to overdose on for however long it takes... I just press repeat and the CDs play over and over (yes, through sleep too) until I either reach an epiphany, go through a catharsis, or shoot the CD player...

what can I say about music
what are you willing to hear
the river becomes a waterfall
does it seduce your ear
well it does draw me to the fire
dancing to jump past the fear
what can I say about music?

blood flows just as silently...

as a tear




night and day

for you it is the middle of the day... for me it is time for sleep (of course I should be sleeping... still, I am searching...

coughing up dreams
adds value to mucous

strip away the starry nights and you have burning days, for the day is much closer to the stars... do what you will with the days, but leave me the nights... I write letters to the night...

letters to the night, never sent
still, the darkness knows what I meant

will you inspire me?

motivate my muse to come here more often to find you my reader to breathe in your interest to bask in your acceptance to bathe in your silence to beg for you applause... is this a question?

keep the applause
send adoration




remain calm

intensity will render all living tissue asunder with or without reason (for you to decide as you choose the colors and materials through which to express your art)... and if you see the blue light in the sky tonight, you may have been exposed... and if you remember to return, you may understand... and if you hear the song of the silent child in your dreams tonight, you may be one of the chosen... and if you believe in the little people, you may be crazy too...

when all else fails, laugh

you are easily identified by the diet you consume in this world (and obviously, food is part of your diet, but is that all you saw?)... every day you change (a lot more than your mind) and with every decision you create a legacy that only you remember (and mostly you forget)... the power of the words is to give the legacy a stationary expression that freezes a moment even as it continues to change as your understanding of words evolves... as if you are sitting in an art gallery staring at a painting and watching it change through your developing understanding and expanding imagination... epiphany comes to those who wait, but it comes faster to some...

break open your shell and release yourself

promise

chah, like everyday?

this not being the primary place I ramble each day (and that even the place that has been my daily journal has not seen me every day), it's a wonder it exists at all... being everything to everyone is not the easiest accomplishment to maintain, unless the goal is failure... of course most of us share the goal, whatever that might mean...

just once, to be completely understood just once, that must be the sensation you might call heaven or nirvana or bliss... ever wonder what language your silent child speaks?... I do...

shhhhh...

sometimes, in the middle of the night, the world stops and nobody notices (except the little people, and they'll never tell)... once upon a time I wrote letters to the night, but then I started working the night shift where laptops were banned and suddenly I focused on reading instead of writing through the night... still immersed in words, but the creativity remains passive... you could be part of the renewed activation if you want (and you don't have to be a little person, either)... join them...

enter obscurity

blessed art thou who place their hand to paper with pen to write the secrets spoken only by their silent child in letters to the night... wonder left open for all to see yet no one does only to wonder why... humility balances hubris and pride while self-esteem balances shame and guilt so the thought you are can float above the core even while attached to the weight of fear... and when the unknown inspires more wonder than fear, you have reached love... once expressed as a pyramid in various languages, the points remain the same for all to see and still...




humanity

with you I forget who I am

is the grass always greener on the other side, or does it always seem to be?... how many of us find that which is just out of reach to be the most appealing choice of all?... if two people agree to dedicate their lives and be willing to die in order to live an impossible dream, can it be possible?...

and what if the idea caught on?...

in a world where beauty is sought as a possession, in a life where value is not based on how much joy something can bring when shared, but rather how well something coveted by the most can be kept exclusive by the few, how can a beautiful child survive?... have you ever felt like a prize someone sought to win, a treasure some were driven to possess, a piece of land others sought to conquer?... have you never been a woman?...

when all else fails, press record...

there is a remedy for every malady if we could only see beyond our misery but insecurity replaces honesty with greed and poverty, call it humanity... and so afraid of what is wrong they dare not see what is right (what would the neighbors say?... embarrassed, they run away)... and so disposed by their own hands pretend that no one understands (how long can it be denied, this cultural suicide)...

just try to blend in...

damned by my own hand I seek salvation in a bottle
crossing hyperspace I will not let up on the throttle
supernatural heaven is opening it's door
but I've forgotten what I came here for

who said that?...

pretending to be something we want to be because we are too afraid we might not be remotely close to what we want to be, we cover all the mirrors as if they would not show our reflections and we've lost the ability to pass through them... cults of vampirish children dressed to blend in with the night slink out into the darkness to mingle with spirits and others seeking to at once find sanctuary, shriek blood curdling wake up calls, and shock-titillate the stodgy generations who've long since retired from life decades before their biological clocks were set to start winding down... crumbling on the inside, all the while boldly strutting ownership of each footfall as if the night itself protects them from what they themselves will not face... some dance, some sing, some cry, some burn, some wither, some blossom, some undulate, some turn...

and those who can, sleep



work life love time

sometimes this is midnight for me
sometimes it is more like early evening
but for at least five days a week,
having fallen quite reluctantly into a way too normal work week
(and some tell me my schedule, working nights, is weird),
this is after afternoon for a 24 hour clock
(but then, since I have a 36-40 hour circadian rhythm, this may not matter)...
unfortunately the world sticks by it's 24 hour clock
so I must attempt to maintain one if I am to have any chance of passing for human
and surviving a five day forty hour work week for any length of time...

sometimes I wish I could be online more
I have so much to say
but there just doesn't seem to be
enough time in the day
I give up sleep and food and baths
and still the time runs out
and when I'm past the point of thought
I wonder... what's it all about?
is this all life's about?

sometimes I live life moment to moment
in a rush as if I am going to miss something
if I stop to enjoy the time
if I indulge myself alone
for I want to share so much
what if
during moments of selfishly solitary bliss
the one perfect soulmate passes by
and I am unaware
lost in my own mind?



in the stars

he was an innocent old man with a child inside still yearning to be loved unconditionally, a modern day Servantes hero with Machiavellian mischief and a touch of Seuss... the world long ignored his rhymes and reasons as he placated his hunger to share with incessant rambles through gardens of words...


she was an innocent child with an ancient soul inside still crying for the loss of humanity over time called progress, a modern day Juliet with the heart of a wild animal set loose in recent civilization, slashes of Joan and Mary and a touch of Alice... the world long hungered for her flesh as she danced naked under blue moons on starry nights...


they sought the same journey... they lived the same hunger... they dreamed the same dream... they were promised to each other by powers beyond their knowledge or control, but never told...



best moment of my life

I did not sleep last night and yet I met you in a dream for I remember getting lost in your eyes... was it just the photo I saw, I don't know, I only know nothing is the same as it was before... I was alone last night and yet I met you in a dream for I made the sweetest love the world has known... was it just the smile on your lips or the tear in your eyes, I don't know, I only know last night reached new highs... and the surprise is that it comes as no surprise for every moment since I found you has been the best moment of my life...

or any of my lives, for that matter...



NOTE: This is a repeat of the first ten entries I wrote here at diaryland in July of 2002 in planet candora... after a year and a few months at candora where the focus was much more on dreams of the heart and memories than daily life, I started this life in black and white behind the candoor to come more into the present... you can find the archives to see how this diary began here... I appreciate your interest more than words can say :)






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




see me - - - feel me - - - touch me - - - heal me


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the moment

we interrupt these seemingly mindless dots for a word from (or at least about our sponsor (hmmm, sponsor?... what's the opposite of sponsor?)... anyway, now, as ado-less as possible, the word for you or andrew)...

you know that box to the right on the dland entry page called recent public entries?... what do the asterisks mean?... and the bold?...

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AND WHATDYA MISS?
Can You Laugh At The Sky?
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It's Been A While
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