knowing that I would not be causing too much of a faux pas even if I showed up dressed as a dead baby in a clown suit or if I had a used sanitary napkin stuck to my shoe, I decided to crash dinner at the Dangerhouse once again (at least in my mind) and after leaving droppings, or perhaps they were notes, on a few of his friend's, I felt like I did my good deed for the day (what, you expect anything to make sense in my mind?)...

in my next imaginary event, I decided that part of the reason I am not humongously popular (besides the typos and poor spelling and rambling run on sentences and parenthetic tangents that lose interest of reader and writer alike) and on everyone's favorites list is because I let the cat out of the bag, that is, I expose myself, I mean... this isn't going too well...

if I let you wonder if what happens is real or just imaginary events, maybe... or even better, if I presented everything here as factual reporting of the life I live... yeah, I could just pick up and take an overnight trip to have dinner a thousand miles away... I mean, Paris Hilton does it and she doesn't have any bigger breasts than me... well, maybe the right one, but who's comparing...

but then, I am not actually here for the awards and accolades and fan appreciation days at the stadium or little trinkets they give out that sit on the mantle, even if it's fake, or in a drawer, if you have no mantle, real or fake, gathering dust and trying very hard to be a conversation piece... I am here for the love, the personal touches, the mutual masturbation, the...

oh, which diary is this again?...

here at casa de candoor we are here for the love, yes, the personal attention, the intimate sharing of the secret embarrasing private parts of daily life that only friends find even the least bit interesting, no less amusing... keep the award ceremonies and fancy gowns and photographers hoping for a flash of nipple (though a listing in your favorites can feel like a public orgasm, but don't go out of your way on my part or anything), I'll take the occasional note letting me know you care... and imaginary dinner invitations...

well, that's part of it, I think... some people might come for the fish, but I come for the love... the friendship... the comradery... the sense of trust and sharing of secrets... the laughs... the elipses...

hey, it's not that IU want fame or fortune (well, I might take the fortune), I just want to be invited to the right parties, ya know?... of course I might be much more popular if I edited out 90% of the babble and wrote one entry a week highlighting the very best of whatever it is I do here, but then, you'd all miss the dickens (and shaw and king and adams and python and williams and bach and beethovan and... yeah, ok) out of me and I wouldn't want you wandering the web all lonely each day wondering where oh where has your little candoor gone, so I show up whenever the muses call me to spread my babble on to the cyber waters and relieve myself of this great burden of knowing you are out there every day wandering the web in the hope of finding a friend who cares or at least something amusing to distract you from your loneliness and the spots on the ceiling (or your sheets) and that is why I am here too, to find someone who understands and shares a meaningful moment even if it's just in the mind and feels real and lets us fall asleep believing there is hope for our kind...

that is why I love you...

and that's just part of it...

the second part of this entry hasn't been thought up yet, but give me a minute and I'll think of something or something will happen around here... Rasputin just walked out to ask for a wake up call in forty five minutes... roommates as snooze alarms, is there a precedent?... and shortly after that Precious came out to tell me about the F-Cat tests and how boring they were (genius can be so innocently arrogant, ya know) and declare that the TV will be tuned to American Idol and 24 tonight or else... I did not ask what the or else was because I've decided to follow the herd this year and therein have something to say at work when they all talk about what she did or what he did on the shows... last year everybody watched American Idol as if their siblings or kids were competing and I sat around listening with half an ear while reading (last year was the year of catching up and finishing Stephen King's The Dark Tower series {including commentary books about the series and author} and Douglas Adams The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series {including the Salmon book and incidentals} and the Harry Potter series {is book six due out May fifth or June fifth or fifth of something?... well, somewhere around then and the other date is somewhere around when the Hitchhiker film comes out, which is on hold-my-breath and try not to have any prejudices or expectations about status} and I am digressing again, huh?), but this year we've been playing cards (hey, they won't give us internet access, which is lucky for you for if they did there'd probably be a dozen more diaries out here and twice as many entries) so I've been much more social at work...

what?... you don't play cards at work?

meanwhile, we've got thirty minutes of silence (except for the sound of a tennis ball bouncing from racket to ground to racket with the occasional muffled net shot and shout out) that shall be filled with music and the new CD stack:

Bowling For Soup Kings of Leon The Beach Boys Ollabelle Anugama K.D. Lang Tom Petty & Heartbreakers Pennywise Todd Rundgren Flaw Rilo Kiley Various Govi John McLaughlin

Drunk Enough To Dance Youth and Young Manhood Pet Sounds Ollabelle Shamanic Dream II Hymns of the 49th Parallel Hard Promises Land of the Free? Very Best of Endangered Species More Adventures GH of the 30's Heart of a Gypsy Thieves and Poets

the best thing about the library is that I get to check out stuff I never heard of and this particular stack has several of those... sometimes I find gems I will savor and sometimes, well, it's an experience to listen to new music...

it looks like Precious is going to need help hemming her chorus concert gown, so I shall wish you all a wonderful night and even better dreams J

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

see me - - - feel me - - - touch me - - - heal me


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