I know, the last entry had a rhyme... poetry, some might call it (though I prefer the word rhyme for my writing)... and many shudder at the concept and run from any words that are structured in any sort of poetic format... proof of that is found in the ratings (or are they rankings?) I was getting when I was opening my writing places to the general public through blog exchanges... the ranking (where a page is given a 1 to 10 score) doesn't even require a person to spend more than a moment on the page... most people look at the page, a single entry, for a few seconds (some might have actually glanced at it for up to a half a minute) and click a number from 1 to 10... many, from what I can tell, just click low numbers for the heck or it or to lower the average rank so they might feel better about the rank they receive from visitors who do the same thing...

in any case, my mostly rhyming candora would consistently receive lower scores than any of the four other writing spaces I opened up to the voters... so either I disregard the system of ranking a website (and justify that by the many faults in the voting system besides the two I already mentioned) or I fret over why my site is so poorly rated (or, if I am foolish enough, let my self-esteem fall)... none of those really appeal to me, so I stand aside and nod and pay little attention (which is closest to disregarding, I suppose, but I don't shoot down the whole concept and do occasionally participate)...

so anyway (I'm not sure what the point was, if there was one), if you aren't into rhymes, have faith, this is primarily a babbling (prose) diary and you shall not be assaulted with formatted text that follows metered patterns and rhymes at the end of each line too often... unless you are clever enough to notice the poetry slipped into the babbling, but then, that might just be me teasing you to get you to try to find something that isn't there... maybe...

the Cheshire cat has nothing on the grin that I get by rambling on and leaving open ends in the flow of words... but you'd only know that if you believed this particular confession or if you knew me in some way well enough to judge for yourself what is real and what is memorex (or memo-ric, for that matter)... take a memo, explanatory notes may or not be helpful in understanding whatever it is they may or may not be supposed to be explaining... much fun is the principle point of application of words of wisdom or folly in this space... after all, this isn't even RealTime� (smirks are allowed, if you can find them)...

so about a week or few ago I sat down to put together a whole lot of scattered thoughts and stuff from scribble files and loose ends that have fallen out of my head in recent weeks (at least they were recent weeks a week or few ago) and lo and behold, it's a week or few later and not one of the entries alluded to over in the RealTime� blog have found their way into your cyber world until today (or is it tonight?).... and suddenly you are caught up in the maze of the 23rd entry in a row that was not there just moments (or an hour, maybe, allowing for jet lag, traffic, and bandwidth issues) ago... all I can say to you if you have actually sat there and read through to this point is, please wash your feet because I am about to kiss them...

well, it's metaphoric, so you don't necessarily need to rush off to the bath just now and you may already have exceptionally clean feet as it is... but I bow down quite literally to you for your (some might say insanity) beautiful devotion (or is it excruciating boredom?) to me and my long lost babbler who returns to you tonight with heart in hand (and a pastrami sandwich from Grabsteins) and head in clouds and the wish for blessed being for you and all you know...

I was kicked in the head (where memories reside) by Clarity not too long ago when I stumbled out of my stupor to say hello to a few of you wonderful people only to find that she is now living just minutes away from where I spent decades of childhood (well, I've been a child a long long time) and the sweet bird of youth sang songs in my ears (from inside, of course) that brought back a flood of memories of the olden days when I'd sit in bumper to bumper traffic on the way to anywhere I was going because that's how crowded the roads are there (though I did know all the shortcuts and drove like a New York City cabbie so I did not, in fact, actually get caught in bumper to bumper parking-lot type traffic too often)...

and I realized that there are so many things to miss about that place where I was supposed to grow up (I fooled them though, I never did... grow up, that is), the theatre, the music, the energy, so many positive and negative things to remember, but what keeps coming back to tell me to get on a plane and visit is the food... the delicatessen in particular... but also the pizza... and the ambiance and the standards and the service (if you could afford it)... many of my favorite places to eat and hang out are probably gone now, but the memories of the tastes and the atmosphere and the experience remains clear as... clear as the air in Antarctica on a sunny day before the industrial revolution...

I remember long lingering strolls through the park (and the food vendors... hot dogs... chest nuts... gyros... ices... like a year round carnival) that seemed like another world of forests and groves and fields of green until you looked up past the trees and saw buildings reaching up to the sky in almost every direction... there are few, if any, parks in this world quite like it and anyone who's been there knows exactly where I am talking about (so I will deliberately continue not mentioning exactly where, ok?... fun?... annoying?... silly?... clever literary device?... well, maybe it would be if I wasn't parenthetically babbling amidst the descriptive prose, aye?... but you get what you get when you wander through my mind in this world of words)...

and I remember the people... closeness in proximity (which was sometimes maddeningly confining to me as I longed for wide open spaces) and in intimacy (which is the aspect of personal relationships I so dearly miss in this life these days)... I think of friends from those years and feel as devoted and close to them as I ever was and most I've not seen in decades, but I have no doubt that dozens would fill a room with love and laughter if we could all get together somehow... maybe that's what drew me to fill in some blanks and explore myspace more recently (besides Precious nudging me and my love of making momentary connections with random people)... alas, just about all of my web searches for the people closest to me back then and people from the old neighborhood have not panned out so far (but I keep trying every now and then because they can't all have turned into old farts who are afraid of computers)...

I figure anyone who wants to be found would be out here waving a flag like I do and I'm not looking to intrude on anyone who is not looking for a reunion with me (I was quite the lunatic back then too, in fact, anyone who knew me would probably say I mellowed a lot... but you and I know I'm only sleeping, merely playing possum until the right someone comes along)... and until we reconnect, I have the wonderful memories of the all night basement parties and the school stuff (plays, shows, sports) I was involved in so deeply (occasionally I'd take a break from my extra-curricular activities and show up in a class just to surprise people or take a test that I couldn't talk my way out of)... and filling a diner or restaurant or club with a hundred or more people after events, being somewhere where everybody knew you (suddenly the theme from Cheers plays)...

and I left all that behind...

first, to wander aimlessly (because that was fun... lots of people leftover from the sixties were doing it, so I found lots of fellow wanderers on the word when I did it because I seemed to fit in with them and we were drawn to each other... that's where I first learned the power and pleasure in momentary connections that last a lifetime)... but I kept in touch with many while on the road and I still felt like I knew where "home was...

and then I returned home to forge a career and that's when I lost touch with most everybody... that's the saddest irony of this modern culture as I was caught up in the race, going to school and working full time and barely saying hello to the best friend and life partner I was living with at the time... and a decade later I couldn't find anyone, not even myself... so I set off on the road again because home was not home anymore (how many songs come to mind with that thought)... I Am, I Said...

and now, years later, I've forgotten how to network in the real world... I work and work some more... I come home and fall out before any grand ideas of socializing can become reality... I am lucky in that I live with a friend (and his daughter) who are like family, so I don't feel as alone as I might because I do things I love to do and have companions, but there is no crowd to hang with, there's no bunch of friends to go out with, there's a strange sense of growing old in the air... alone...

and so I come online and spill my guts hoping to find people who might understand and more, people who might be in the same boat right here in Orlando, Florida... I've found some groups, but they, so far at least, amount to drinking clubs, barflies, and dress-to-impress types and that's not where my head is these days... so I keep hoping to find more time to explore the town and I keep hoping to find others in this boat online and I keep hoping...

and I keep finding smiles in my memories and reminders in my cyber wanderings that you can go home again... in your mind... if you want to... and I know that when I do, I have a feeling nothing can replace and a fuller life when I return...

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