first (that would be before you read this entry), if you haven't already, do this (that's the previous entry)... then come back here (by pressing "next one" link)... thank you...

and now, this entry...

I don't know if the whining phase has passed, but I am not in the mood to whine right now, I think... Friends is on the toob... it seems we've been watching the show a couple of hours every day since Precious moved in... and then there are the DVDs... I'm not knocking the show, it's funny and entertaining when I am in the mood to live vicariously through two-dimensional fictional characters, but it's the too much watching TV that I'm noticing... and there's probably that horrible thought that I might someday have a group of close friends for real again, but I don't feeling like whining today... I think...

I didn't get to the gym again today... not that it's too late, but I think I am giving myself one more day off (how long?... I don't want to look, and didn't have to think about that)... I did eat veggies today, so three out of the last four is a good sign... tomorrow I'm supposed to go to lunch with Rasputin and Precious at Michael's... they are such an evil influence...

that missing entry that may or may not be excerpts of emails and other potentially personal intimate delicate precariously balanced stuff is still germinating in scribbles and dribbles somewhere around here, but there hasn't been time to organize enough of those thoughts cuz I've been spending my few hours reading and sending positive energy and what I hope are helpful words to some favorite diary writers - especially melomane who deserves all the love we can give (so if you even remotely love me, send it to her and if you have any love at all to spare, send it to her and if you have any positive energy at all (or extra cash), send it to her... wait, about that extra cash)...

and as I mentioned in recent entries, I've actually been answering a few emails (which is not just rare, but rather random as I respond impulsively when I respond and then I respond to the most recent emails that happen to have come in when I, for whatever reason, decide to get in a responding mood... once I responded daily to mail and could call myself a good correspondent... now I am a poor at best, but still, I will not give up on myself and those who hang in there with me during these years of lean communication will be immortalized in my arts and letters books to be published when I become really famous long after my death... well, maybe not too long after, depending on what people do with the billions of words I will leave behind for posterity... hoping prosperity actually finds them... many are in storage in a 20x50 foot storage unit just north of Niagara Falls, NY... just in case I don't get them out of there before posterity gets to them)... I guess it's that infernal desire to share more (meaningful depth, unconditional trust, true love, intimacy, you know, the usual stuff of the happy fairy tales) that won't go away no matter how many life lessons I experience...

maybe a fantasy?

I also got to thinking today after reading some entries here about opening up and sharing what really matters, what is inside down deep, the kind of sharing that leaves us completely satsfied and at peace with ourselves, life, humanity, and the universe... and I related to the thought that maybe I am blocking in some way, that maybe I don't want to open up... and then I thought, but I do and I wondered if the lack of sharing depths and intimacies is more about nobody being interested than about any walls and baggage I might have... and then I put the two ideas together and thought, what if nobody wants to share what's inside of me at all?... whether it's my past that repels people or whether it's the me I have become or just nothing worthwhile to human beings inside of me (and I mean all this in the physical space reality, cuz that is where the emptiness and lack of interest is real, not in the literary space of sharing words online, cuz here I get and very much appreciate attention and praise and words of love)... pushing aside any self-doubt, self-pity, and low self-esteem and asking myself why no one in the physical world wants to know me, really know me, leaves me with limited answers...

cuz I can only speak for myself...

maybe it's appearances, the long hair that gives me the freaky 60s hippie look when it isn't poney-tailed or maybe it's the mafioso look it might project when it is neatly poney-tailed... or maybe it's my body language, posture, or some other way I present myself in the physical world... or maybe it's my night shift hours and nocturnal circadian rhythm... or maybe it's my depths (that seem bottomless)... or maybe it's my lack of buying into any of the organized religions or political philosophies that seem to bring people together by giving them some sort of unspoken common ground... maybe it's my existential perspective, my limited interest in the material world... maybe it is my blank slate, my lack of certain ethnic origins and biological ties... maybe it's my lack of family (or maybe the influence of watching Home Alone again)... maybe my recent poverty and/or lack of interest/ambition... a lot of things about me are different from the norms and maybe there are just too many differences and nothing for anyone to latch on to... maybe all these things leave me in an unsharable place, uninteresting or even repulsive to humans... or maybe I'm just worthless and boring as a human being (you should know me before I became one)...

anyway, when I am not whining and feeling sorry for myself about the loneliness I feel in my isolated life, all of these questions seem reasonable, but the answers always come out the same... I hope not...

I hope...

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