the writer says: be

perhaps... all this (or is it that, and then some) is writing the record of the life i kinda sorta seem to think of or at least consider mine from time to time... sometimes appearing (or is that feeling) broken (or is that disconnected... lost... forgotten... abandoned... ignored... unwanted... unknown... whatever?) and sometimes recording remembering (it is a long long way from may to december, or something like that) and that is what i got back to doing, the writing the record, a bit tonight (even if the smile seems to be missing a few teeth at the moment)... the water flows, the wind blows, the fire burns, the earth turns, and love is the fifth essential element to life (to life, l'chiam, aye?)...

bless yourself today, even if you didn't sneeze :)

seven billion

so this month the planet is supposed to be infested by, i mean inhabited by the seven billionth person and i know you are wondering if there will be more than one seven billionth person, i mean, when the seven billionth person is born, someone might die before the seven billionth and one person is born, making the seven billionth person the six billion nine hundred ninety nine million nine hundred ninety nine thousand nine hundred ninety ninth person until the next person is born who will become the seven billionth person and that could happen more than once (yeah, this could expand a lot more too, but let's leave that for your imagination as we walk away casually glancing up and whistling nonchalantly as if we don't really think you are flat out ridiculously geeked out for thinking this)...

or maybe you're wondering if there will be balloons and confetti...

bullsugar! :)

zoshul skilz

life is ninety eight percent coincidence and two percent hormones... a lot of other stuff too cuz coincidence can be made of almost anything and hormones, well, hormones can make you do almost anything so that's about a hundred percent of everything which is a lot... and just for the truth of it i confessed to myself in the secret privacy of one or more of my blogs that there is a certain person in life (that's real physical life) who is almost actually sexually attractive to me, or would be if i wasn't so set in my abstaining ways, and did i just suggest i might be interested in sleeping with someone for real?... yes, i did say she was attractive to me... not like ric ocasek's wife attractive, but... yeah, i just have to go do what i do, don't i?... mock myself, mock my seriousness, mock any chance of being with someone for real, mock the whole ball of wax (and her little dog too)... but ric's wife is seriously attractive (for me... of course i know who she is, silly), which only goes to show that the most attractive faces for me are attracted to dorks, musical dorks, no less... brilliance, no doubt... or...

bullsugar! :)

breadcrumbs

all the little breadcrumbs that mark the long and winding road that can lead to your door, my door, any door (that's what breadcrumbs are for) after all, from the love we saved to the love we gave to the miracles on 34th street or promises in the dark, the musical lyrical references are but the sparkly shiny breadcrumbs, the colorful m&ms, even left along the path among so many other less obvious and more obscure pieces of fractal personality identity secrets nobody knows except the one who follows them all to wherever they may lead (and only there and then might we truly touch the magic moment so oft dreamt of, dreamed too, if life did not get in the way)... the laughing cloud mocks the sun's tear knowing the shadow is not forever and the sun will see the earth again... and the child giggles at the potential of the words... dream on...

bullsugar! :)

poverty is rich

i was asked once, ”why choose the poverty? in reference to my material choices and i laughed at myself as i sighed for the world as the question demonstrates the collective belief that success and comfort and even happiness is measured in things, in luxuries, in a lavish lifestyle, in possessions and the means to obtain them… and i think back to when i had much more than i do now, when i had the means to travel and buy so much more than i can now, and i smile at the choice i made to give it all away… for it is the giving that pleases me much more than the possessing… it is the sharing that pleases me most of all… but even when others do not share, giving enriches my life experience… it is the giving that brings the best feeling i’ve known in this life short of shared love…

so why do i choose that most consider poverty?...

because it feels good :)

was there ever a doubt?

silly child, of course not (what did you think the answer would be?... and why if you dare, huh huh huh? smiley face giggle) cuz the facts of life at least as they have been laid out for me in this particular life experience are beyond ironic (even when i am a moody emo child silly one) the joyous laughter tickles me inside (even when we are all wondering what what is what, or which, for that matter... what? what? what? what?) the game comes around sooner or later or so the philosophy goes (comes around, goes around, you know, that what) so tonight it did and there is no stopping the party for the bullsugar (or anything, cha cha cha (no really, seriously even, did you have any doubt?)... oh come on, over even, here's a hug)...

wish you were here :)

where wandered i part seven hundred and eighty nine

with many hundreds of missing pieces uploaded not along the way and this, merely the bullsugar version of the conceptual browsing (or haunting, even) the momentary and then some nonesuch sundries et cetera with as much vim and vigor as as is mustard (or ketchuped) up at any given hour of the wee time, we unanimously present with all this fawning fanfare and irreverence the latest rendition of the choir of cybernetic angels singing ccourtesy with an independently alternative beat, this one...

fugacious love without trust
fugacious photos
vernon god little
radio 3 cbc
digital detox
fugacious lost portfolios
fugacious archives
the last fugacious (for now)

ephemeral

that word, i do not think it means what you think it means (ah, the wonder of quotations begged borrowed or stealed (modified, even) and is has been so very long to share to care to be well aware to love and be lost amidst the magic of romance and trust and the illusion of all that and unconditional love and how wildly fugacious of us (or someone) to have thought the concept in another future past space and time and head space were to for art thou you too and with muchness musicology and candor as if the moment had no end until it did, for the moment at least...

more to life

are you still dreaming or are you cheesecake dancing through your pickled life amidst fractal thinking bent mental contructs bleeding delusional logic feeding irrational beliefs and fruitcake holidays, but not to be denied there is a cure for that and they call it awakening to your own conscious awareness or death, depending on perspective and personally life is more appealing, so here is to hoping you get the point and more, you live it...

cuz there's more to life than bullsugar!

could you be any less cohesive?

what in the world (and happy birthday to an old friend i miss even as an ethereal bit of fluffy smoke in the older memory cells of the brain) could be going through the synapses with such a tittle we may never know, but certainly there is something profoundly curious in the way words flow through this place and if i didn't know better i would think they were painted by numbers laid out by some higher power as just to amuse those who are agnostically inclined and still, be that as it may or may not be, the folly meets the purpose somewhere between the lines for anyone with any real caring to be aware and ask, even, cuz in the end you are made if you gave all your love...

and bullsugar!

pasta for all

there is something about pasta in almost any form that is so very comforting (or is it genetic?), whether in soup or baked with cheese and sauce (which leads to the doughy goodness of pizza, but that's another delish-us-ness) or just about any way you cook it (raw, even) there is just something so good for the soul (or whatever is in there) in the stuff... maybe it's bullsugar!...

barley too, but maybe that's just me...

squeezing it out

so i take the laptop into the bathroom to squeeze out another entry (but geeeze surely, don't call me bullsugar, if you know what i mean) while somewhere in the distance as if from some future dream (or nightmare) a voice ponders whether a kid who loved t2 knew the star was his dad and is le-lo enjoying house arrest too much and is leann too skinny in her skimpy bikini (but can we show the photo another few times) as if that matters in our lives, but that's when i dive for the remote to change the channel or better yet, turn off the world's most popular (and probably most influential and possibly most destructive) distraction as i add one more round to this party bus loosely called (all together now)...

bullsugar!

not that bad

really and if it is all just a test or a game or a chance encounter in time and space, it is what is is and what it is is right here waiting...

you?

every rug i've known

every rug i've known seems to be made (or have been made, for that matter) to be pulled out from under me, but then, that's probably because i choose to weave (and step on) magic carpets while imagining that i can invite someone on to share it and settle down, as if that is even possible, so now that it's all figured out, i might as well play the fall (foal?... foil?... fool?... fa la la la la, ya falla?) again and lay down candles in the wind cuz if i die, i die, and if not, well, i pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again...

what else is new...

bullsugar!

moods, dudes

slap the fool silly who whines about emotions (oh you are so emo) as if feelings are cause to put someone down when the true value of life is to experience the physical roller coaster within and all around so just relax (or don't relax) and enjoy it with those who can (or all by yourself) and let those afraid of it to move on after they try to put you down (and you are the fool if you let them) laugh inside and realize (even when they will not) that they are just moods, dudes, treasure them while you've got them, they are better than alsheimers or being dead, cha cha cha...

it might have been grand

or at least a fiesta (collective groan, naturally, from all who know about the great car search of 2011), but c'est la vie and a merry man's chest (or davey jone's locker, for that matter) cuz maybe, maybe i'm wrong is still one of my favorite songs off one of my favorite albums by one of my favorite bands and the point is not lost just cuz the sleepy apathy that many read as depression covers the many other moods like a wet blanket cuz we will not go quickly into the night not me not you not i so there cuz that would be giving up and giving up is accepting death and i still have another thing or two to ramble on about so hold your horses mr undertaker and bring on another round of roller coaster for those of us who love (salute's unnecessary)...

missing pieces

this was a different kind of blog of sorts that the critics liked more than the others because it was less personal and more creative in an abstract kind of randomly casual methodology of thoughts and such that mattered only for a moment if that long and occasionally could have been profound if one delved into the meaning but the story never really got off the ground because the emo grabbed thin air and fell from the sky with silent messages (what?) from the sci-fi imagination to the wishing well of emotions long sleeping long burning long lost in the busy business of living each day and then, it got sleepy and less fun to read and write, so the critics went away leaving their own form of silent messages that sent mr tanner back to sorting through his clothes singing softly to himself as i used to do once upon a time, so what is left now...

bullsugar!

narcissism

first, you may notice the warning that random links may appear randomly slipped into this entry in random moments with or without logical reason or rhyme cuz that is the way it hangs around here tonight as i ponder the plethora of posts poured into the (e)thereal in minutes that appear to be hours or days, even, or longer, even more, and the rampant self-indulgence is not as mindless as it may appear to the mindless who do not understand the conceptualizations and rationalizations i present in me pontifications presented presently and for posterity in posts now and then and whenever they appear which only goes to show that it is, as rosanne said, it's always something, even three somethings sometimes (somewhere) and little do you know that i secretly long to share everything with someone who can and will share everything with me (cuz it takes two and it is not all about me, really it's not, no matter how much i joke or tease or appear to be totally self-absorbed, i am seriously not that great a sponge cuz the truth is i doubt anyone could ever absorb all of me, not even half, though i continue wishin and hopin in more than just song cuz there's always hope, so give it to me one more time and just watch me share :)

did someone say easy?

i mean, living day to day, out of touch with the rhythm and blues, or something like that in that certain state of mind that i may have long left behind, but that may be one that too many that, after all, in the grand scheme of things, becomes meaningless cuz there may just be a resounding lack of clever thoughts and a redundant abundance of repetitious sameness that makes that whatever that was (or something like that)...

used to be so easy

or at least it was easier than it seems to be now, i mean, just based on the productivity in the number of entries being spread on this log, or blog, if you are not grossing yourself out, because i had something to say and it slipped my mind and that seems to be the trouble (oh?... what seems to be the trouble?), a distinct lack of time to focus on emptying my mind and wouldn't it be ironic (or something) if that was the way one loses one's mind (or something like that) and in the end, the memory is the first thing to go (or is it the last?) cuz once it goes, you don't remember what went before...

bullsugar!

surely, don't call me bullsugar

yeah you can give in to self-pity
and just end up feeling shitty
and put off everyone you meet
like your throne is the toilet seat
or you can choose a different way to see
right for you might not be right for me
some will calculate it and some will feel it out
but you decide what your life is about
and that is what life really is about

as nebulousas you want to be
it's still mostly bullsugar to me

splendiforous

you may not be quite clear on everything, especially when it comes to me (as in this blog) or me (as in the writer persona writing this blog) or me (as in the person behind the writer persona writing this blog) or any further degree of depth or difference or definition we might layer into any spontaneous analysis of the being presented when this body containing me enters into any sort of interaction for your viewing pleasure or not, but i am and understood or not, that is the answer blowing in the wind, the grail called holy, and the meaning of life for anyone who knows…

and may you find your way too :)

self-mutilation

wow, how many bummer days and downbeat entries in a row already?... the release of the disappointments and lonelinesses and frustrations and angers and stupidity (which is at the root of just about every negative emotion i am empowering recently) may be a necessary evil (or is that just a convenient rationalization... excuse?), but fact (or maybe the bottom line?) is i just have not had the time to laugh at the stupidity because i am trying to get some sleep and feel like nobody cares and wonder why bother sharing if it is just a one way street and it really is time for a good old-fashioned human-like poor-me wah wah wah pity party but as i don't have time for even a decent seriously thoughtful entry i surely don't have time for that (unless i give up sleep and set myself up for going into work tired and vulnerable but the disfunctional family is not the place to walk in tired and vulnerable so i plod ahead sort of holding my breath treading water waiting for the next wave to crash overhead and enjoying the brief moments of laughter in the midst of the busy-ness and stupidity and all that...

bullsugar!

woke a lot

obviously did not write a lot...

praise the chips and pass the ketchup

somewhere back in time or maybe just a few moments ago in an entry that will not be found easily as it was predated just cuz i felt like it tonight there was an intention to do something (in the way she moves?) with that link but for the life of me i do not recall what or where or if i did, but then, for all the profound meaning some may find in the words or placement of pauses or entries, for that matter, they may as well be french fries for most of you cuz everything is better with bullsugar...

ketchup!

it's all about the flippancy

even deep within the feelings so many fear and others put down and still others attack with vigor and stupidity, the point of life is to find the smiles behind the frowns and see the rainbows through the tears and tickle your funny bone even when your arm is broken...

or something like that...

being different

being different is not acceptible in our culture, which is the clearest hypocrisy of all as the collective egocentric insecurity of humanity is quick to slam the lid on the box of anyone who steps out of it a little too far for collective comfort (from socrates to charlie sheen, from jesus to john lennon, from galileo to timothy leary), challenge the status quo, religion, politics, drug laws, anything people are afraid of or afraid to change, really, and you are ostracized… let's not even get into race, religion, politics, language, or simple physical appearance... just look like the majority and act different, challenge too much, and you are jailed or killed… different ideas are the thing that scare people most and will get you hurt or killed fastest... or in our supposedly enlightened humane modern world, sent to counseling which is basically a demand for conformity or else you’ll be prescribed drugs you do not want to take or have your freedom taken away… you know what that is, right?...

bullsugar!

like magic

having no formal training in the html css whatever language in which this template was created i took a look at the code and tweak it here and there by intuitive genius cuz no other explanation can be found and low and behold i modified the appearance enough for me to not chuck the template completely but there still is stupidness in the changes made by whomever is credited below because it is still not the template i chose that was nearly perfect for this blog so whatever again and the way willed cuz there was...

bullsugar! :)

the werdness of the net

the internet, that is, cuz there is a difference here in the bullsugar backfround template and i don't like it and don't know who changed it cuz the extra space at the top has no purpose and drops the words lower than they were and takes they whole effect i chose this template for, the colors, away by putting them above the words so it is time to change templates and that sucks cuz i liked the one i chose and whomever changed it did a wrong and they take claim for it down below it seems...

bullshit!

is?

anybody wanna grow older with me? (cuz we're not gonna grow old, right?)... ah, but alas, the rub is there and that is that there is nobody i know who is around my age who is (wait, one is too many, aye?) plays softball and basketball and runs and stays up all night and still parties like a little kid and most younger folk just don't have the experience to understand and while their little bodies are cute, there is so much more going on in my mind than anybody else i know so long too and maybe that is the thing that gives me the impression that nobody is as i is (am) cuz those who are are actually being like me and i am not (is that so?) so (so?) whatever is the point of the promises we made if all the promises are broken in the end (and is that the way it is or just the way it is for me?) alas, again, the rub is there and is you?

bullsugar! :)

maybe i'm amazed at the way i giggle all the time

maybe i'm amazed at the way you giggle at me cuz there is such a sweet adorableness in the proper (and even more in the improper, sometimes) giggle that any heart not melted instantly by the sound and body language and bounciness of the experience (giving or receiving, even) was probably stoned in another life (and a narc-type-a paranoid control freak god-fearing loser or some such offensive collection of meaningless word in this one) and if you frowned or got even the slightest bit uncomfortable or seriously wondering (or slightly, even) they you too need a good goosingly gotcha giggle yourself so step right up and see the amazing gigglemonster, half human and half giggle, performing feats of absolute adorableness right before your eyes and if you don't, well, sad for you i am, yoda too, even, and with this i gigglefart all the way home...

prophetic

in a fleeting moment of semi-consciousness as i felt the start of my fifty-fifth year in this life, i thought, or perhaps just felt, that i might look back on this year amazed that i did not conceive more consiously or often that it could be the mid-point, the half way mark of this life that would last more than a century of this earthly time and with wonder or irony, seriously consider that i actually would i be here remembering that ephemeral thought from half a lifetime ago… i had not yet found my literary voice amidst the thousands of streams of consciousness that passed through my head and fingers into the written word each day, a circumstance that often lead my readers to label me with the then popular psychological diagnosis ADD (attention deficit disorder), to which i’d suggest with my usual serious irrverence that it could be an easy way to explain away a lack of comprehension of a multi-track stream of consciousness that has since been more clearly understood as synaptic multi-threading or intellectual agapism… yet the hope that something meaningful and worthwhile beyond my mind would emerge from all the time i spent putting words together kept the words flowing into whatever recording medium available along the way through this journey through this life, from crayon and drawing paper to pen and notebooks to keyboard and hard drive to electronic synaptic transfer to telepathic expression, unconcerned with the immediate reception, unwilling to modify the flow or style of the literary expression for the unconditional trust, the blind faith in the thought process compelled me to continue following the consceptualizations wherever they lead and if that was to be no more than selfish ego, then so be it… who then would have foreseen this moment would arrive that i would recall that evanescent emotional flash as prophetic when then, i simply mused casually over the irony of the possibility and the folly of my own delusion of human self-importance…

bullsugar! :)