the story flows sideways

there may not be profound meaning in every title, or there may be, but there is profound meaning in this title even if i never explain, express, expound, or remember it at a later date...

sometimes sleep deprivation is a good thing :}

the best laid prams

or were they plans, we coyly inquire... it's an art, you know, the art of the coy inquiry (now there's a blog title waiting to happen... yes, so anyway, the week will be wonderful what with a wednesday to wednesday vacation from the work desk (and i shall endeavor not to turn on the laptop at home or away) and the softball tournament down south (it'll be good to get away from home, however briefly and rushed) and the holiday (but will i delve into the depths this year?... only time will tell, aye?) and such and such (heavy on the such)...

if you only knew, you might understand :}

shocking, no doubt

but then again, there may always be doubt for without doubt, there could be certainty and perhaps even perfection and with perfection comes boredom and the end of growth, change, and everything and we don't want everything to end, after all, so let the doubt ring...

still, you are not actually believing any of this bullsugar, are you?

no really, i was not looking for porn

well ok then, there i was waiting for a moment of non-suckage from att so i could google map where i am going tomorrow (should have done it from work where i have a printer, aye?) when i found myself on my twitter page that i never use to see who is following me (anybody's guess why) and i click on a link in the first twitter from the first follower and i find myself here looking at local amateur porn pictures and i am reminded how most human bodies are rather repulsive (disgusting, really) to my libido/psyche (no wonder i'm alone, no doubt) and somewhere along the way i find a japanese school girl who probably would have waggled my wiggle had att not sucked so much that streaming is rare here, but hey, who needs porn for fantasies when sex is mostly in the mind anyway...

no really, i wasn't looking for porn and didn't watch the whole thing...

maybe later lam lol la la la...

meanwhile, i wonder if masturbating before the big game give me weak legs?...

bullsugar! :)

yeah, right

the music flows more and more again, though not nearly where or how it once was and did, but more and the ache to share it, to feel it with and within someone, that is returning to the surface which means the depths of desire are stirring once again and if there was only time, the explosion would be seen across the blogosphere and perhaps, the changes would happen once again in the actual physical life...

still, all meaningless unless it is shared...

fox news

the sickness of our cultures is exposed once again as adam lambert's sensual act is banned by abc and good morning america, much as elvis was only shown from the waist up on ed sullivan and the beatles and others found similar censorship and it's been the same as far back from frank sinatra to the earliest human civilizations, the fear of the penis, the vagina, sex, the human body, and all that is natural and beautiful and sensual and real in this physical life... so distorted is our perception that the real obscenities of our culture are ignored, like the mind fuck of talk radio or sarah palin's sell-out going rouge tour (what makes a failed politician a rock star?... the bias of current "news" talking heads, the media in general, moral hypocrisy, and the psychological sleaziness of our culture, that's what)...

excuse me, i accidentally listened to a bit of fox news...

as if it's been here all along

and so it has, because it is, because you see, the here and now, was once before and this was not, but now it is, as if it's been here all along...

bullsugar :)

everyone is fighting

for one thing or another, everyone is fighting, if only for the illusion of control... for the illusion of belonging... for the illusion of being better than the rest... for the illusion of winning... for the illusion of being number one... for the illusion of power... for the illusion of order... for the illusion of right or wrong or heaven or hell... for the illusion of love or hate or pain or fear... for the illusion of knowing... for the illusion of sharing... for the illusion of feeling, of being, of thought... and most of all, for the illusion that it is not an illusion...

meet me at the restaurant at the end of the universe and tell me what you think...

how long before you notice?

i wonder every time i start a new space... the new link goes up on the list of branches off the tree of madness or the on the left side of right list on the RealTime™ blog (what?... you want links?... then it might be connected and would that be bullsugar?... define, please, s'il tu plait)... i'm just a little bit caught in the middle...

did i mention we are the champions?...

ah, strum your guitar, sing it kid...

just write about your feelings, not the things you never did... and yet, all he did was write about things he never did, a lot, and he felt them as if he did them, which was his secret, i guess, and if you really listened, you heard and if you really heard, you felt and if you really felt, you cried and if you really cried, you healed...

harry chapin takes me home to my roots better than anyone and tonight, i remember first loves, first passion, first feelings... bittersweet memories, because they are so sweet but no longer shared...

still, i want to say... happy birthday :)

speaking of tone

what tone?

exactly...

a great day for america?... which america?... no, really, north?... south?... central?... vespucci?... somewhere between sleep and awake where you still remember dreaming, right, tink?... you did know america is an italian name, right?... and sometimes it's just a matter of when and how to say go fuck yourself, but mostly it's all about the stones... thrown, not thrown, soup, what you do with the stones measures your place in this world... perhaps you'll roll them now, but what you do without thinking, that is the answer...

the question could be who are you, or simply what?

meaningless drivel

what was the purpose, if there was a purpose, for another blog, for another way to write the time passing through this life... there is usually a pirpose, a reason, a theme for starting a new writing space... there were books, volumes, journals, diaries, and now, blogs... and why another, i wonder, when there are already dozens open and waiting for more words... is it because there are so many different threads in the tapestry of my mind or am i always trying to recreate whomever i may be... huh?...

good dreams don't come cheap...

feed the head

currently listening to meg & dia, lenka, bright eyes, harry chapin, amy farris, the telling, steve forbert, melissa etheridge, alice peacock, lily allen, melanie, demi lovato, moody blues, rilo kiley, dar williams, kate voegele, garth brooks, portishead, fleetwood mac, jackson browne, eagles, alexa ray joel, elton john, metallica, blind faith, 3 dog night, bread, ligion, say anything, snow patrol, spill canvas, manchester orchestra, the beatles, and others...

what are you feeding your head tonight?

what does it mean?

what does it matter?...

did you have your bullsugar today?

dr pepper cherry

it's deadly stuff, actually... like coke, it can clean the gunk off engines... so corrosive, yet we gulp it down and ignore the attack on our digestive track simply because it tastes so good... the sweet, the syrupy flavor of sugar, we are so addicted... and the caffeine, we are so hooked... pepsi, mountain dew, monster, red bull, coffee, tea, so many different ways to get our fix...

as steve forbert sings it's a shame, you know...

and the next day, the sugar hangover... we wonder why we do it as we look at the empty cans or bottles... like an alcoholic for sugar and caffeine... a legalized junkie... the office coffee fix... the slurpee... the speed...

just one more...

how long?

in 1971, when we met, the world was a very different place... you had your baton, you had your trumpet, i had my hair, my accordion, my running, and we had our music... music was much more magical, personal, and communal back then... and place, we had a place, we had your basement to play in, party in, sleep in, and commune in... i miss communing... people don't commune much these days...

happy birthday old friends... long may we smile :)

did you ever feel?

i've got the feeling most people would say yes, but i've got the feeling that most people actually never did, but then, how would one know, after all... illusions, all... it's really sad, but then, sadness is an emotion, a feeling, isn't it... so is it? (as in, i mean, does it really exist and what is real?... and what is it, anyway?)...

ever really hear meg & dia?

number 13

that is my number, by the way, in at least one of my softball leagues and we have gone to the finals twice in tht league... so friday the thirteenth is a fun day for me, but then, so is halloween, come to think of it... superstitions amuse me most of the time (except when people hurt each other or kill or go to war over superstitions... i mean, take religion, please)...

so bring on the black cats, the ladders, the broken mirrors, and all the still (the stuff too, narf) of superstitions for a laugh... cuz that's what they're good for :)

and it was going so well

the babbling bullsugar, that is... not that the writing paused all that much as there are daily nightly words popping out all over the web (and some even from me, wouldn'tcha know) and the internet connection (att sucks) is pretty bad recently, but there's a certain mood that brings out the bullsugar and that has been semi-sleepy of late... though mostly, it's other stuff...

which only goes to show...

for the love of obscurity

is that why i do it, silently slip away to start again in my mind, in the dark, in the new space and time without a word to anyone... is it to see if anyone is paying attention... is it a way to shirk or avoid the responsibility of a final committment to person, place, or thing or personality... who am i, after all... am i simply seeking a privacy that is absent elsewhere... is it a way to try to re-create myself once again... are these questions and if they are, or whatever they are, as words here and now, or then whenever, are they related, connected, ubiquitous, or something else again...

perhaps, as the title poses, it's all for the love of obscurity...

and i wonder about tone

specifically, the tone of this blog that is now entering it's third month of life and yet to be noticed by anyone, i think, as compared with the tone of my other daily blogs that are mostly semi-daily now, except for this one and then (or now, in fact) i wonder - is this the first time i am openly contemplating and linking this to the stream of blogs that branch out from my written gardens and if so, what do (or can) we make of that?...

well don't just discuss amongst yourselves, i mean, feel free to let me in on your thoughts too, aye?...

narf :)

do you love me yet?

that is what i am here for, after all, to fall in love with the one who falls in love with me in the exact same way (and it's not fantasy if it actually happens, ya know)...

all i ever needed was the one...

peace chance a give

cuz giving is the chance you take (kind of like the love you make) if peace is ever to be real you must share truth and how you feel...

sometimes there's no bullsugar about it...

make a plan to love me

some time soon...

qualities

if you want to attract my attention, please actively demonstrate (actualize) qualities like intelligence, objectivity, humility, logic, humor, relevance, sensitivity, appreciation, creativity, adaptability, resiliency, and simple courtesy... oh, and let's not forget infinite patience, imagination, tolerance, and unconditional love... and insatiable curiosity... and above all else, honesty without harm... and stubborn will to understand and live up to your ideals... and the desire and ability to learn, change, and appreciate word play, subtle understatements and irreverent seriousness (and serious irreverence) helps a lot too... did i mention an almost unhealthy addiction to ridiculously brilliant creative babble?...

if you don't want my attention, nevermind :)

it had to be you

if only you've have come...

you say it's your birthday

or maybe you didn't say,
for so long you've been far away
and even if this song won't play
i still remembered anyway...

happy birthday
j
yes
j

stoney starry night

and not a joint in sight, but the memory of the drugs we knew are still enough to get us through another stoney starry night of wish i may and wish i might make dreams come true for me and you if only we knew what to do... as depeche mode sang, reach out and touch me...

sometimes, to catch up

yes, no kidding, cuz sometimes the words flow but i either am away from the internet (shocking, i know) or i fall asleep before i get to upload the words, so there's the catch-up time when entries flood the web in what may seem like random places, but is quite possibly a carefully strategically meticulously crafted creative creation of sorts...

or something like that...

secrets be told, the seriousness within the silliness is almost always in charge, even as the irreverence playfully presents it most of the time... if you understand that, then you just might have some chance of understanding at least a small part of me...

or all, your choice :)

day by day

it could be there is some association, some relation, some connection through memory or meaning to the previous entry on the previous day or date, whenever it was, but the truth is found between and behind the eyes, so make what you will of the words but reserve judgment, if you must judge, until the eyes have had it...

so what was this supposed to be again?

the serious one?... flippant?... cleverly popular?... irreverent?... the sweet bull?... everything except the offensive controversial stuff?... probably too late for that, but then, i've gotta be me, or so the song is sung...

i wonder what the funda would say...

the funda?

crossed wires

this was started as a whole new and unique blog that would not be completely intergrated (and therein biased, or tainted, even) by the babbling madness and controversial irreverence that permeates the previous dozens of blogs, diaries, and journals just cuz i enjoy mind games and playing with words (is it real, memorex, or artificial flavoring?... even her hairdresser doesn't know, but you could if you paid close attention and learned to count in aremaic... aremaniac?... sure...

but in the end, the themes and moods and purposes for this blog are spilling into other writing spaces and the babbling madness and other negativities are spilling into this one and that begs the question, what's the point of another blog doing the same old same old when there are already a few and a few more that are hardly used... i mean, where's the continuity, the congruety, the unique purpose and methodology and tapestry?... but anyway, everything is blurriful in it's own way...

nyuk...