woah, wow, what a weekend... well, actually, it wasn't nearly as busy as other weekends I've known, but it was fun and made all the more memorable by the sleep deprivation that preceded it... not to mention the vicarious thrills that only teenagers in love can inspire... and in between bouncing around offline, I was surfing the web with great gusto as I moved up the list of crazies blogmadders...

but before we get into this entry, I'll just say hello to all of you blogmadniacs skipping through here on your way to your next credit... I understand you not pausing to check out a babbler like me, though if you are not encouraging your ADD tendencies (as I do from time to time), you could click here and read me in another window while continuing your surfing... that's what I do when I care to read and comment on someone...

and any of you who have not checked out blogmad yet, you must not want more visitors (or maybe you don't know about it... where've you been?)... it's still much fun, growing by the hour, and because it's international there's almost always someone to chat with (and learn from) on the site... it costs nothing to sign up and I haven't received any junk mail (always a concern for me when signing up anywhere)... if you sign up by my referral, I'll spot you some credits so you can get a head start... just let me know you did...

so anyway, on to this entry... I wrote this some time Friday morning:

weeeee, I slept last (or last slept) some thirty-six hours ago, more or less... the brain waves are elongating (or shortening bread) and mush flows freely through my simple psyche... pushover (or pussycat) status has been reached and relativity is raining all around my reticula... I did not sleep a wink on Thursday, but I persevere nonetheless and enjoy the heck out of my bleary blurry brain mush...

remember, join up with blogmad and I'll guarantee you get 100 more clicks to your page just for starters (yeah, I'll give you my referral bonus for joining)... the best thing about the place for me is the thing I have least time for... chat... while not too many of you actually find me to chat with me there (maybe you don't go to the site much or have not explored the IRC link?... it's so simple, click, click yes, and the inner circle of blogmad unfolds and the world of PM awaits... I'd love to talk to you... yeah, I really need to get a messaging program)...

and I so want somebody to play with... someone with whom I can actually let go and turn on all of my energies (whether you call it charisma, talent, charm, or just plain old silliness)... I want to dance with Robin Williams, sing with Steve Martin, and have Jeanine Garofalo's baby... and I just want to kiss Meg Ryan once before i die, is that too much to ask?... and Nicole DeBoer... and Mila Kunis... and Anna Paquin... and... oh ok, so it probably is too much to ask... that's why there are fantasies (I would have said that's why god made fantasies but I was laughing too hard at the thought to type it at the time and besides, I'm mostly agnostic at the moment)...

and I want to make it with an alien... cuz I doubt there's another human alive who actually thinks like me down deep... I'm not an easy person to relate to completely... heck, I'm not an easy person to find completely... cuz space is infinite in my mind... outer and inner, in case you were wondering...

space, the inner frontier...

and that's final...

yeah, you shoulda been there... I finally fell asleep some time Friday evening, I think... I recall remarking to myself how odd it felt to pass the 48-hour awake mark... I'm not sure if anyone heard me as Precious was still in Tampa at the Thespian Award Show (her school received Superior, which I am told is quite good)... and Rasputin works so many odd hours I can never tell just what time it might be based on his being home...

the entire weekend was a bit of a blur...

actually, quite the blur...

I do recall going to see a midnight Moulin Rouge show (with live actors and audience participation, similar to the midnight Rocky Horror Picture Show experiences that have been around for years) on Saturday night... Precious and her best friend and their boyfriends (did I mention Precious has a boyfriend again?... the same boy who, without giving any reason, dumped her on Thanksgiving Eve last year... she smiles at the proceed with caution sign I held up... Saturday was Prom... they shared the L word after prom... we're all a bit crazy when the L word comes around)...

anyway, after Prom they wanted to go to the Moulin Rouge show (which was at Universal Studios City Walk, just over a half hour away) and had a ride there from another parent, but needed a return ride and so Rasputin and I decided we'd go see the show and give them a ride home... much fun and then we stopped for shakes after the show (so prom night ended somewhere around 5am this year... I suppose next year they'll be asking for an overnight somewhere... shall I start singing those were the days now?)...

shhhh, I might be another year older, but I don't have to learn how to act my age... ever... it's just now gonna happen, not no way, not no how... although I don't necessarily go out of my way to embarrass anyone, I'm not gonna become stuffy and afraid to enjoy myself just because that is what most people consider normal... I am happily abnormal, thank you... just wish there were more of us so more abnormalities could be shared...

whatever happened to the collective thirst for creativity and self-expression?...

Moulin Rouge, like Rent, awakens (and any theatre experience, really) the love for the bohemian life in me... Precious came home from her three-day celebration of theatre all wired with theatrical energy (and she doesn't even play on the performance side much as she enjoys the techie work... and that's where extra money can be made too as she found out last weekend when she worked lights for some production at her school)...

she reminded me of Rent by asking about an off-Broadway show called Bare saying she couldn't find a CD... a little research on the web told me that the show was first performed (to rave reviews) in LA in 2000 and finally broke through in NYC in 2004 and there may be another production happening right now, though the theatre telephone number was not working... so I wrote the composer of the show and he responded, telling me the only recording is a bootleg 2CD recording of Bare on the web and it might be found in musicals message boards or on Limewire...

the art before the profit, that is beautiful...

I mean, where are all the people who walk around arm and arm singing silly songs and laughing through life?... I don't even see them at the bars all drunk and forgetting the poles up their butts... have we become so scared to be silly (has conservatism gotten that ingrained in our culture?) that singing and dancing in public is that rare?... it's been a lot of years since I was with three other people who would actually link arms and skip in unison while singing We're off to see the wizard...... I mean, even on the way in and out of seeing Wicked live on stage, people just seem so staid and subdued... stoic... even catatonic... so sad...

humans miss out on most of the fun that life can be...

sometimes a lyric has a point that asks to be left hanging, musically... kind of a musical way of leaving you off balance so that you might continue the thought in the lyric in spite of the fact that you assume the role of audience... oh, did I just tell a secret?...

most of the time when a rhyme comes bubbling up from my rhyming place, I pull the rhyme out and put it in one of the many rhyming places that make up much of my written gardens on the web... I do this for a few reasons, the primary reason being I love rhymes and like to think I'll find time to read through my rhymes someday (and maybe others will too) and it's nice to read the rhymes without all the babbling between...

another reason I usually pull out the rhymes (though I usually do leave in a few lines and link to the complete rhyme) is because a lot of people see rhymes and write the words off as silly or meaningless (as silly as that might sound) or perhaps, as poetry and that turns many off before they even take a chance and read the words... since I'd like to think this effort in posting all these words on the web is not purely an ego trip (no matter what ego might think or try to tell you), finding some compromise between the natural flow of my writing and the majority of potential readers is a logical step in presenting me in words to you...

I mean, if you're interested in my own personal writing process, that is...

I think, for me, there's minimal conscious thought being processed during the typing... the words flow in a stream through the concepts that I feel like expressing and sometimes the feeling is great... that usually means I expressed myself well, for me, that is... someday maybe we can do a reader's poll and compare which entries come up as your favorites with which entries felt the best to write for me... though I'd probably have to read the entries again and vote myself cuz I don't have any record of how each entry felt as I wrote them... so perhaps this is one more moot point in my stream of consciousness... but I would like to know which entries are your favorites...

and especially the rhymes, because they are usually more complete and self-contained, whereas the babbling entries are usually incomplete and sometimes rather partial (that is, very incomplete, as opposed to being partial to anything) and often require much linkage clicking to come anywhere near a sense of completion... I suppose that is because I babble without thinking, without limits on my imagination... and when rhyming, I usually find a story or concept comes round upon itself... or something like that...

anyway, if this bit of explanatory babbling has distracted you from the challenging query I slipped into the rhyme (which is the point of rhyming for me sometimes and much of the fun of writing for me and maybe you see why I love Harry Chapin so much � and if you don't know his songs and you enjoy story songs and thinking and feeling while listening to music, then you really ought to check him out)...

and suddenly I am reminded of how Smed puts mix CDs together... not that we have a similar process (though we might, at some levels), but there is an internal (mostly instinctive, for me) process when bringing musical themes together just as there is an internal process when free associating into prose and rhymes (call them poems or lyrics only if that feels better for you... for me they are rhymes)... cuz ultimately I am always rhyming in my mind...

the babble between the rhymes may or may not actually relate to the story or point presented in the rhymes... sometimes there is more counterpoint, sometimes there is contradiction, maybe even incongruity, and sometimes they support each other as if the babbling could not quite express whatever it was I was trying to say and it just had to come out in rhyme...

I blame Dr. Seuss and Bennett Serf, personally...

and of course, Harry Chapin and many others...

and I deeply love them for it...

for me, it's rhymes... in rhymes I create me... one of these days I'll put some time and effort into designing a visual presentation of the rhymes that will be more appealing to the eye and hopefully more representative of the content of the rhymes themselves... not all of my writings or rhymes are reflective of me... some are quite the opposite... many are explorations of other perspectives... some are releasing pain... some are memories... and sometimes they are stories I have heard or imagine myself...

and you may notice that I do this now and then... ever introducing myself to you, friend or stranger, I include links to some of my other writings as I express myself and explain a bit about my written gardens... not that I expect anyone to have the time to click and explore much, but the paths are there for anyone who might want to someday...

and you may notice that I seldom put such personal maps through my written world up top in an entry... I'd like to think that is because my humility and humbleness is the real me and the egocentric neon sign is the playful facade I put out here in the public writings in a similar way that someone is said to be on when performing...

and sometimes I surprise myself with the paths my meandering mind takes... and sometimes music around me surprises me... Foolish Games just came on and tears come to my eyes... and I wonder how much unresolved muck is mired inside and I wonder how much is my creative imagination aching to perform... there was a time the deepest of blues were real experiences for me, but there was always a passion in me to feel the extremes of emotions and songs allow that so wonderfully (or in some cases, painfully) just about anytime...

it falls into the category of songs like Honesty and Imagine and Gethsemane and other cathartic songs that either remind or challenge me (and others) to be real, to care, and to face some basic philosophies and decisions we make in this life... and a rhyme poured out just now but I choose to put it elsewhere... if you're curious, it's here... and as if on cue, like the essence of smoke that is Evanescence, Amy Ray sings wake me up inside...

it would seem that the radio station playing here at work is seeking to challenge us (who me?) in much the same way I was challenging us in the rhyme earlier... so much for letting it slip innocuously into the past to become some subliminal substance...

staring at the ceiling such a funny feeling...... so anyway, if you want credits and in turn more visitors to your site, you've got them (join blogmad for more)... and if you want to be entertained by the philosopher clowns in my head, well, I hope you were... and if you want to know me, again you have the opportunity to understand a little more and explore a lot more in the privacy of your computer without having to identify yourself by asking...

the rest of you, fell free to comment or call J

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