and love is serious fun... ah yes, so in the previous entry (actually, that would be the entry before the previous entry because the actual previous entry you'd find by clicking back one from this entry would be a work rant written just moments ago and prompting this parenthetic interjection into this entry, though this entry you are reading and this moment was written immediately after the entry being referred to and linked as the previous entry in this paragraph, for the record and all), we (in the aforementioned previous previous entry) summarized and linked to every entry written for this diary during this summer of love, albeit a lot of solitary love, but nevertheless love... you don't have to have a partner or soul mate right there with you to feel the love inside and all around... and even as a hopelessly hopeful romantic, you don't need to have the physical intimacy or sex to feel the emotions of the dream...

of course it is illusion, but then, so is every emotion, the illusion we create in our minds based on our dreams and what we share... be alone or whomever you are with, make yourself your lover and the one you are with will become part of it (and if they don't, then like it or not, you're with the wrong person)... love is a shared illusion that you bring into your physical reality in any way that feels right for both of you (or all of you, in the case of group love (and I don't mean group sex, necessarily)... we can be a group of friends on the internet sharing love, we can be a group of friends in a bowling league or a knitting circle or a card party or a bar where everybody knows your name or any club or gathering of friends... we can be two who share the love of music or art or words or dance or mathematics or anything...

love is the connection, the sharing, the bond...

and it all begins in the mind... the mind open to love can love and therein create ways to express love, share love, and make love... and those ways involve pleasing yourself and pleasing those you love... you know it is love when you smile... and when the thought and feeling inspire a smile no matter what, then it is true love... whether it is romantic or platonic or sexual or pure fantasy is up to how you create the love in your mind... love is what you believe it to be... and love is what you make it...

la la la...

and then, as if the work life demanded some equal time, the entry one back from this one in upload order (as opposed to the previous entry) released some fun work thoughts and now, yes now, in RealTime� even (though right here behind the candoor and not exactly in RealTime� the blog or, for that matter, in RealTime� the moment you are reading this, but closer than usual for this life in black and white), we continue prancing and dancing and trancing and otherwise enchanting ourselves with word play and miraculous ponderings of navels, earlobes, celestial bodies, and the space between the stars (hey, it works for me)...

and here we are... I mean, all these moments and nothing pressing to do for at least a few more moments... a guy can get spoiled having all this free time... after all, I worked seventeen hours and then slept a few and then back to work where (and when) I just wrote the previous entry and here we are gleefully remembering the summer of bliss, I mean love, in spite of the less than optimal work and sex life... maybe I just need to get into prostitution... there'd be plenty of sex and the work would be fun and the money would be a heck of a lot better than it is in health care... but then, sex, like music, and money don't mix well for me...

the things we do for love, aye?...

and then there's me... here I sit amusing myself in my mind with words as if I need nothing else, as if I am content all by myself playing with meanings and nuances and innuendos... when what I'd really like to do is climb innuendo (in your window) and watch you sleeping... well, maybe I'm thinking more of the Joey Potter climbing through Dawson's window and laying side by side, staring at the ceiling, sharing secrets and hopes and dreams... remember having friends like that?... see, I might have not lucked out in the family department, what with being adopted a few times into odd and distant families and never knowing biological family, but I've had those kind of share-everything in the moment friends... that's what I miss the most, the intimacy of opening minds and exploring imagination together...

anybody wanna write a song with me?...

hey, I said anybody, I mean, just cuz I might have been thinking of Meg and Dia somewhere in my subconscious (and really, I wasn't consciously thinking of either of them until after I typed out the question... I was thinking of you - anybody who might like to share the intimacies of opening the mind and exploring the imagine nation)... but if you happen to have a moment and happen to meet them, feel free to give them my number... it's over there at the bottom right of this page... they just might be given cart blanche on any of my writings (and there's something for ya, aye?)...

I have so much fun with my grandiose ideas and fantasies sometimes...

you just have to be here I guess...

my head is the most fun place I've ever been...

though it has developed some bumps in recent years... maybe a few warts, but I think they are those beauty mark type things famous movie stars like Robert Redford and Lauren Bacall and Cindy Crawford have... yes, I have a beautiful movie-star head... of course only I can feel the bumps because they are lost under tons of hair and lately I am the only one washing my head... I remember washing my best friend's head when she had even longer hair than I do now (almost down to her knees)... but of course I meant the inside, the brain, the imagination, the fun... and I miss sharing in the same physical spaces with other heads that are as fun as mine...

and there are so many meanings to the word head... there was a time when I thought a pot head was what happens when someone is hit by a pot and their head takes the shape of the pot, like in Tom and Jerry and lots of other cartoons... there was a guy in my life when I was a teenager who adopted me when I was fourteen who used to use the term pot head in a very derogatory manner a whole lot... so naturally I had to become one... those were fun times too...

and then there's the whole bathroom concept... it was not all that common in NYC, where I spent my early years of this life, for the bathroom to be called the head but I wandered enough as a child to learn about that connotation of the word... and then, for a while, I started picturing a pot head as someone who's head was shaped like a toilet... I think the pot part might have helped... not in the olden-days chamber-pot sense, if you catch my drift...

yeah, so I am a head case...

and here I sit reminiscing about the old days when friends would gather around the campfire with pots on their heads... or maybe that was a Cosby Kids cartoon... anyway, before I walk away passively, I want you to know that this summer of love is being brought to you by music... from Van's Warped Tour to Spill Canvas and Meg and Dia, music is returning to inspire hormones and ejaculations like fireworks in my brain and body... it's like a kick-ass old lang syne in my heart and mind... for it is so true that memories are so beautiful and yet (and too beautiful to regret) and what's too painful to remember we simply choose to forget, so it's the laughter that we remember when we remember the way we were...

did you know Barry Manilow is having hip surgery tomorrow?... I suppose thinking of Marvin Hamlisch got me to thinking about Barry and I and sure we all wish him well... ok, so I'm being sarcastic, I am far from sure that we all wish him well... a lot of you might laugh at the mention of his name and grown at the thought of his music, but that's ok, we can't all have great taste in music... anyway, in all seriousness, good luck getting hip, Barry...

wow, just look at me name dropping... can Mick Jagger be far behind?... and as much as the classic famous rockers would be great to party with again, I'd still rather see Meg and Dia rise to their peak (and I'd so love to help them get there) than dance around with rolling stones who appear to provide the old saying about gathering no moss as they almost seem ageless, or the geriatric Dylan for that matter, in spite of the relative idolization I once bestowed upon them as creative geniuses... though Justin Hayward and a few others could grab me away from Meg or Dia with little effort or coaxing now and then... maybe even Paul...

yes, either Simon (preferably with Art) or the Beatle...

at the moment an ideal fantasy would be Meg and Dia and Spill Canvas climbing through the window and sitting around staring at the ceiling sharing our minds and imaginations... but I wouldn't exclude any of the old guys if they showed up... in fact, Melanie would be most welcome... and, as Harry (yes, the Chapin, though the Nilsson would be fun too) would say, and Elton and Bernie would too...

and while I love music of many different ilks, I am drawn most to the music of songwriters... those who craft the sounds, carve the notes, and combine the chords into concise and universal, yet unique, phrases that fit with words that move emotions or tell stories... from the light classics like Irving Berlin or George Gershwin or the masters of show tunes, Rodgers, Hammerstein, Hart, Lloyd Webber, Tim Rice, and so on... to the varied voices and styles and stories of those mentioned earlier and Bob Marley, Jimmy Buffet, Van Morrison, Harry Chapin (always worth another mention), Jackson Browne, Lionel Richie, Melissa Etheridge, Tanya Tucker, John Lennon, John Denver, and groups like Bread, Styx, The Moody Blues, and plenty of others too many to mention... and a lot of songs by new artists (Mars Volta's The Widow and Evanescence come to mind, along with my two oft mentioned current favorites Spill Canvas and Meg and Dia, naturally) just starting to learn the craft, the songwriter's art and craft is one I admire as much as any in this life...

and returning to the thought-query about writing a song, now on a more serious note, it is more than just a metaphor... I've always been open and eager to share words and music with someone not just as a mutual audience, but in the creative process ( see?)... I don't consider myself a songwriter, but I might call myself a lyricist at times as I know I can write metered rhyme about anything almost any time I want to... I've not pursued creating songs with anyone because it is not a pursuit for me, it is a pleasure I pour my whole self into with as little conscious directed effort as possible... I ride the intuition, the inspirations, the musical muses and winds of chance for that is the most fun aspect of words and music for me...

and like this entry, often I am writing for myself... to express and better understand my motivations, my dreams and desires, and my individual way of wandering through this life... to know me is to love me from my point of view and so I started out writing, to know me and understand everything I think, feel, and experience, and most especially the greatest experience of all, this crazy little thing called love...

it is not about a specific genre or about what is popular or cool... it is not about any external influence... it is a personal relationship between me and music, between my heart and mind and a song... the words and music... beyond all the babbling, the rhetoric, the ranting, the silliness, the teasing, the seriousness, the laughter and the tears, for me, life is a song of fun and fun is a song of love, ergo, life is a song of love...

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