I wonder how my words are read on the whole... I mean, does the self-mockery of the title of this entry come through with the comfortable laughter that it is intended?... I can be quite Pythonesque in my drollness, or is that drollivity? (as if I thought my made up word made more sense than drollness, an abverb expressing an intensity of drollness as opposed to an adjective expressing the quality of being droll, I suppose, if we were to get definitive... but who, besides the odd English professor {I did say odd} or word-lover {and what sort of -phile would that be?... biblio?... wordo?... surely I am a weirdo and a weirdophile, but that is beside the point... or besides, for that matter... and it's not as if I am beside myself with laughter too often in my ramblings, but I am usually chuckling, at least, with the occasional guffaw tossed in for good measure as I stick my tongue in my cheek and smile my way through my massive missives... or even the short briefs, for that matter... or this... so much is about the wordplay)... and I am usually expressing at least two, more often than not a few or more different perspectives and meanings within each thought that passes through my synapsed and fingers into words you read... so I wonder just how much of my amusement is actually read, that's all... I didn't mean to make a four alarm production of it... just a question, sheeesh...

get it?...

oh, did I mean I didn't mean to beg for notes and attention and feedback and emails and personal strokes and mad passionate lovemaking?... not that I am too proud to beg when I want something, for I am not, ain't even... but my sincerity was aimed at an appropriate thank you in the last entry after the first paragraph wherein I took my frustration over not getting the latest Stephen King novel out of the library when I wanted it and combined it with the inspiration I am absorbing from Steve's book On Writing (and I so call him Steve cuz I feel the familiarity he put into this book and he calls himself Little Stevie King in it... I think... I might have dreamed it as I was quite delerious from sleep deprivation the last time I read any of it... if only I had a Tabby in my life... or a parent who was there to encourage anything, no less my interest in words and creativity... I had quite the opposite... mostly lack of interest with a heavy dose of conform or die and ridicule at any creative endeavor whenever I did attempt any interaction with adults in my littler years (I mean my childhood years when I was littler than most everybody else except other children who were in their littler years)... and that lack of interest in creativity and the activities I love dearly followed me into what I loosely call adulthood and so it goes, and those closest to me always seem to be the last who knows...

so what am I not doing right?... too open, too honest, too intense, too free?... it's always too something, I suppose... and yet, no one has walked away (and the hanging on can kill ya, set me free, why don'tcha babe, uh?)... it's much more serious than I am conveying in this entry, but the point of this presentation (and most) is, what's the point of focusing the intensity here in words when I look around in the real world and find no one ready, willing, or able to share the intensity?... hmmm, Stephen King might have a few suggestions, no doubt (no doubt too?)...

no wonder I beg for attention from the world like this (am I begging? {laughing, who me?... the core smiles knowing the deepest truths are often slipped in like this as asides or private messages to people, sometimes from my past and sometimes from today and sometimes from my wishes cuz the core is always alright, in spite of what the jibbering jabberwockies might suggest... shhhh, don't tell, unless you're here, of course}... I didn't mean to... I really didn't think I meant to... I'd rather (much much) have unsolicited respect and admiration than idol worship or undying love, but if I have to settle for the latter and can get some with a little begging, well, I can compromise...

meanwhile, I still have not slept since yesterday, which would be the day before, if you've been following along... or even if you haven't...

I have way too much energy for someone who has not slept in (counting on fingers and toes... ran out of fingers and toes... carry the twenty and starting again)... 34 hours... and Rasputin just rose from the dead... he's been sleeping about eleven hours... would be nice if I did, but instead I spent an extra ten hours at work (which will make my paycheck look nicer) and rambled away ever since... I did spend a couple of hours setting up my fantasy baseball lineups... grumbling big time as I realized that I did not have my pitchers in when they pitched so I lost out on their wins and good games (and they had some this week) and I know I did set up my teams until Friday so I am trying to figure out how my pitchers moved out of my lineup... hacking is not out of the question at Yahoo... I may need to change my password... anyway, it's all fun...

talking baseball... stats, I love the numbers

talking baseball... watching the newcomers

I'm getting hungry again... but skipping the workout yesterday and then eating larger than I had in days (actually, I made no effort to diet this week and only gained a few pounts over the weight I came down to last week... for what those numbers mean... I do carry extra weight, but it may not be as much as I initial thought because of the upper body work I am doing... when I start dropping closer to 190 I get extremely fatigued much sooner when doing weight work than when I am closer to 200... still, overall feeling is bloated above 190 and used to be the same above 180... is it reeling in the years, time's great amusement with gravity?... suddenly I hear a voice saying (not asking) "who cares?"...

well, I do... but nobody in the physical space does... just like the creativity... I have never known any nurturing for my writing or singing or running or anything personally powerful and vital to me in my immediate spaces... I wonder what would happen, how I would react, if I suddenly found myself experiencing support and encouragement and shared interests in personal creative endeavors right here and now... waaa waaa waaa, right...

gona sleep a bit now...

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