A Journal of Sorts
if you want to be taken seriously in this world believe in God or at least let everyone else believe you do believing is a strange phenomenon during these so many days and nights of wandering about in a sleepless semi-cloud, I find some strange and colorful story on the toob called The 5,000 Fingers of Dr. Tewiliker (at least that's how the name sounded) and the surreal innocence dated it to the wide-eyed decade (sometimes called the sixties)... but that's not what I came here to talk about... uh-huh... settling into this seductive seat (my new big green {yeah, dark rich green... isn't it ironic?... but that's not what I came here to share either} recliner) the film ends in the usual unbelievably happy manner (the heck with science and physical realities, right?... atomic, man) and what pops up next if not a favorite face (more because it's attached to a visual personality I adore than because Libbo drools, but the attraction is even stranger because Libbo doesn't drool) and I get the thinking (again) about the primary motivation... Contact is what brought me here. but then again it actually brought me here which is the point (I think, but of course, I think too much)... then again, watching people kiss and supposedly allow their hormones to seduce them is another strange pheomenon that just momentarily distracted me, but maybe it's closer to the direction in which I may (or not) be heading today... . o O ( boop boop be doop ) O o . now (and then, again), layered within the textual contexts of the messages there may or may not be repetive characteristics that define personality from admist the random behaviors (spent the day in a behavior management class, you would never have known, huh?)... I bet if I had big bouncy breasts plastered on the cover and sultry lips and wide innocent eyes you would be paying attention (to the breasts at least), but that's besides the point (point, there's a point?)... maybe the most interesting phenomenon of the twentieth century is the packaging of a chocolate milk shake as a healthy instant breakfast, but that may be a chocoholic's perspective on history... . o O ( better than an atheist's perspective, I guess, huh? ) O o . there's always a distraction to try to compete with the muse and lately (it's been a relatively long lately, at that... a lately that extends beyond the life-so-far of this web world, so actually what would you know about anything else since this is all you've seen and I supppose that's why the superlative was correct in this statement and this parentheses was relatively unnecessary, as is sometimes the case with parentheses)... you still there?... well, it really isn't always, but the focused time of the early nineties may be lost forever due to the kindness of lovers, friends, and other strangers (two may rot in a hell of their own making for their kindness, but I really don't think I came here to discuss that again... unfortunately it's seldom far below the surface as the music remains silent and the muses remain in mourning or something like that, but that, again, is another horse I'm not intending to ride tonight no matter the color)... and all that is wasted, cringes and sighs... . o O ( if you want people to listen ) O o . . o O ( just make sure you tell them what they want to hear ) O o . incest isn't always a suitable topic for breakfast buffet lines, for you really never know who the stranger standing next to you might have slept with the night before, but Sleepwalkers brought it up and we're alone here anyway, so why not?... the blood drinking and killing parts can be left out for my tastes, and age, of course, does not matter (and then there is some Anne Rice book, perhaps)... seriously, we were interrupted earlier and Contact was switched off to something else so I wandered into my Fantasy Baseball leagues (I now sorta manage two teams, by the way) and bored my uninterested roommate (that be Sam, or maybe Al, I think) with detailed questions about possible trades while he dozed in front of Seinfeld reruns (I won't tell you that we knew the lines before they were said, but then, it was the puffy shirt episode so maybe you did too... he knew more of them than I did)... anyway, the mood (was it romantic or meloncholy or what?) faded and now the carnal lust of consuming virgin innocence has at least some of my attention... that may not be what you wanted to hear, but if you're still around, maybe you understand the extremes (polar, perhaps, but then poles sometimes come together... shhhh) to which the muses might pull me in any given session of creativity or whatever this babble might turn into... until the virgins get here (feel free to send some), it's not a reflection of real life (I mean I can lust over the uncensored image of some uninhibited and nearly naked nubile waif just coming of age into pubescent splendor {grass optional} in some story, but actually presented with her in my arms I'd most likely find my parental instincts overriding my carnal hungers... have I intrigued or offended enough of you yet with the 'most likely'?... hey, without the pictures, all I've got are words... so please {with hope in our hearts} get a life {or send one} and a sense of humor)... sex would be nice (if only people weren't so uptight and repressed and seriously demented about their bodies), but a true friend would be better than chocolate... come to think if it, I've seen this one too... there's love there's lust it's best when they come together oh yes it's best to come together but that's so rare so we despair there's love there's life it's best when they're at the same time yes they're best when they come to rhyme but that's rare too rare to be true give me a chance give me a dance live a romance burn with desire chain reactions heart refractions take the passions higher and higher mother and son father and daughter family values holy water unconditional trust uninhibited lust free from fear or doubt true love can come out what life's all about there's love there's peace best when the nurture each other comfort like sister and brother as rare as truth as pure as youth there's love there's soul all that is beyond knowledge left for universal college breath of the stars knowing we are part of the whole of everything two become one becomes all laughter and tears and the heartstring the rise, the flight, the fall give me a chance give me a dance live a romance burn with desire chain reactions heart refractions take the passions higher and higher prophet and poet weave it and sow it the great race we chase naked embrace unconditional trust uninhibited lust free from fear or doubt true love can come out what life's all about there's love there's lust it's best when they come together oh yes it's best to come together but that's so rare if we'd just care if we'd just share there's love there's life so where were we?... ah yes, we were preparing for dinner with the virgin, or contemplating navels and the power that envelopes (consumes or feeds) and undulates (with irresitible musical rhythms, no doubt) eternally through the infinity of the cosmos (universe, whatsmos) and beyond... yeah, right, and... more attractive still (besides Jodie Foster's talent or Meg Ryan's wonder or Goldie Hawn's energy... oh, so many, so precious, so little time... so where are you?), the consuming passion of the art of becoming the part, of living the life as dreamed (or written after dreaming... what is loaming, anyway?... or was that gloaming?)... so many distractions... directions... tangents... so many extremes... on the one hand the desire to unleash the sexual passions without any inhibition... and on the other to trust deeper and let go of the flesh (except to be held) to be nurtured, suckled even, in unconditional love and trust as only parent and child, newborn or reborn, sometimes share... and on the other hand, to leave this physical world behind and become aware of (and therein one with) the infinite eternity (there's always hope) for the energy of all the universes, all that is and ever may be... and finding still another hand to explore and share the boundless creative wonders found in combining all the ways to share as artists sometimes do)... what, where?... . o O ( wide awake at four AM ) O o . and the phone (roommate's cell) rings... so I get offline and the other phone rings... someone wants Sam, or Al, I guess... kind took something away from the blood and gore of the ending of the movie, but then I wasn't watching, just listening with half an ear and occasionally glancing up in the hope I'd see something stimulating (and I don't just mean a glimpse of underwear, but the truer vulnerability of innocence that dreams, at least a child's dreams, are sometimes made of)... so I reach for chocolate... and even chew (omigosh, can fruit be next?... one never knows, do one?), at least the first one... . o O ( sometimes I have so much to say ) O o . . o O ( there's not enough day to write it all down ) O o . so in the end (like you followed any of this really?), we give many and much thanks to Layla and other friends growing in the get real (or is that getting real?... mostly both, sometimes in fantasy...) gardens for writing down more than I have time to express all by myself (don't wanna be)... deeper than most will explore, you find the links to the heart (and soul and spirit and anima and whatever) of me and reflections of the world around me (and the others) and even when it's scary, there's so much to be... what?... value is in the mind of the beholder (or at least observer, dear reader)... nite nite J |
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After The Gloaming, Sleepwalkers, Hook, Private Benjamin, X-Men work, local radio The Deathbird by Harlan Ellison chinese buffet written gardens wantlist READ DISCLAIMER graphic graphix Lonely Dog Planet (travels with rover) |
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