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2005-05-10 - 4:08 p.m. poof yes, it was continued (or con tinued, expanded upon, increased in dirth, and perhaps even magnified in some essential way, but you know, nevermind) and you'll miss everything if you don't look out (or at least click back and read it again, anew)... in the mail arrived a half dozen Virgin Prunes and The Cure... yes, we all know that virgin prunes are the cure for something, but I was referring to music (though some people would likely call it noise, it's all good because noise is music and music is noise just as beauty is in the eye of the beholder, or ear, in this case)... casually interrupting the current CD Stack (note the assumption of subtlety as Frank Francis, who was not in the stack and has never been heard by these ears, is mentioned at random and Lillix is smiling even though nudged aside, as were the previous two CDs in the stack that were also enjoyed) just before Sarah Mac sings live, memories flood my every pore as the sounds sweep through my cranial matter... I almost hear The Call... The Waterboys... and The Telling... so much more for the telling... for the record, I bid the entire contents of my pocket (except the lint), $57.42, but I am certainly willing to go higher... or lower, if that's sweeter... there's a Beatles song about going down, isn't there?... or was it Mother Superior?... happiness?... oh, it all gets so mixed up when you throw it in the blender... maybe I should have bid the lint too... and speaking of kinky sex for $57.42... I mean... speaking of being in Florida this month (we were?), everybody go talk her (and her mom too) into coming to the Music Fest... here are directions... in fact, talk yourself into coming too... there may be some free campsites still available... or you can share ours (it's a big farm)... don't mind me (unless you really want to)... I'm just gonna close my eyes and use my sci-fi brain to imagine I stepped into a time machine and found myself back in the 60's... and if you're really rich and can afford a sudden vacation, fly into Orlando (or Sanford) and call me or ring me up or find your own place to stay if you like and sweat with the oldies... no, I mean come out to the farm and dig on the cool vibs, get down with the funky elements, pass out from the Florida heat (wait, that's no selling point, erase that), cozy on up to your favorite musicians, and bask in the presence of genius... it's gonna be more fun than making soup!... but remember, no pretention allowed anywhere on the farm... you can have sex with friends, with strangers, even with yourself, just no pretention... yeah, ok, so I'm goofing on everything I see and hear cuz I'm so excited about spending a weekend soaking in live music and meeting new friends and communing with the great outdoors... you'll probably hear about it once or twice in the next two weeks (can we recognize a subtle understatement when it drops on us like a 16 ton weight?)... you've all just got to be there... what do you expect when I've got virgin prunes in my ears?... there's a quote for ya (not that I pander to public or private communities that stroke each others egos and engage in group intellectual masturbation or anything like that... or google, for that matter)... it's just that all the cool people in the world should come to Florida for the weekend of May 20th... tell them, ok? (oh wait, we are the cool people... ok, so tell everybody else too)... so the segue was delayed and now it might be forgotten, but then, that's the chance we take when living life and juggling more than one focus... if I could write as I pleased, as I once did, without having to punch a clock at some job or take care of the needs of others sharing the space, then this diary would have a different feel... in many ways, it would be closer to the core of me, for it takes time to dig in there and get my fingers and focus and brain waves up to the frequency of the energy that I can tap into when I am connected to... what do you really want?... and what will you tell? and now (throat clearing sounds) I would just like to say, for the record and all, that... as a former victim of the I AM Canadian campaign, I must say I found this funnier than the Vienna Boys Choir singing Once I Saw a Hippo Run... yeah yeah it's so true, but didja havta go and get all serious on us?... To see for certain what I thought I knew Far far away, someone was weeping But the world was sleeping Any dream will do May I return to the beginning? oh, but I did not mean to bring us all fall down go boom... come on everybody, let's all bounce back into the fantasy of free love and communal bathing that makes Diaryland what it is... see, I remember saying this too... and I do sing them all, deep down in my core, and many more (and there's a very good place to start... to know me... do re mi)... ah, but to know me you must stay a while, pay close attention, ponder without preaching and have some sixth sense ability to see through the verbose dances for the child inside laughs at the folly... mine, yours, and most of all the collective illusions, the drama and the play... tears shed for the denials and wasted time in hypocricies... and through it all the simplicity of time, the relativity of moments, and the understanding that whatever it all means, it means it right now... poof... til tomorrow...
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