where for art

beyond the secrets, beyond the illusions of magic or miracles or whatever the mind might come up with the explain the unknown instead of exploring it, beyond the fears that people empower to blind them from learning, from knowing, from understanding more, from being more so some express themselves through what we call art in order to find acceptance as new ideas appear less threatening when we call them art because people fear not knowing so creativity produces the illusion of knowing in the serious reality while art allows the mind to skate along the thin ice of wondering and imagining and almost accepting not knowing...

or something like that :)

it seems important

so many things in life, but personally for this moment i am thinking of (and referring to) this blog, the bullsugar, and the writing i do without thinking or planning like tonight, for instance, i fell asleep early and intended to sleep the night through and the phone woke me and i found myself sitting here typing and six entries were suddenly presenting a profound sense of simultaneous gain and loss, the gain of memories of loss, if that makes any sense to you (and it matters more than it makes much sense to me for in this understanding the profound feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment grows, as if understanding gives life more meaning or something life that... or like that, for that matter) and in the end (not only the beatles song), we can only hope, depending on perspective, that it is, or is not...

bullsugar!

meaning in memories

once i found great meaning in memories, more than mere meaning, i found creativity and expression and understanding and emotion so profound that some of the most amazingly powerful near-as-can-be perfect bliss and euphoric moments in this life were experienced as i was writing and reading the creativity that my memories produced when i let go of all inhibitions and flowed into the timeless expanse of the written word, the written gardens as i called them once upon a time...

wishing you were somehow here again...

:)

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

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!

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! :)

web journeys

cazzy music
ignorance + arrogance --> paranoid and 1
world hunger facts
love at first site and 1 2 3 4
four virtes
get off your grass
a wilder lawn
rawsome
facebook
twitter

someday, my sleep will come

yeah, i say someday because it definitely does not come at night without some conscious effort... too much to do, to many dreams to explore (awake), too much to write about, too much to share... there really is not enough awake time in this life...

lemonade alternative

life has been presenting a series of lemons of late and sometimes, i tired of making lemonade, no matter how sweet it comes out...

so tonight i made some serious chocolate milk...

with bullsugar! :)

our google controllers

why do the powers at blogger/google demand i re-enter my user name and password at random moments when i am inspired to write... is it so they can stifle my creativity by blocking my writer while i am searching for my latest password?... or is it just an ocd control freaky thing like most power mad successful folk do?...

or is it phishing?...

bullsugar!

fourty four blogs here at blogspot (though not all listed on my profile and a few shared)... thirty diaries at diaryland (though only about thirteen actually developed with theme and entries and all of those mostly sleeping these days)... and a few journals at live journal have long slept as well... and other elsewhere, some of which can be found here... why?... i am mentioning it because i want attention and feeback... i do it because releasing myself, real and imaginary, into words is cathartic...

also... so much bullsugar... and then some...

yeah, something about where i left myself

or where i left off... or perhaps just a random series of connections, links to some other worldly long and winding trail (with many possible tangential diversions) that once upon a time may have thought to represent me, or so someone thought (was it me?... huh?... on the right of the real?... who is driving this bus, anyway?... or that bus, for that matter... what matter?... whatsamattayou?... firesign theatre says everything you know is wrong!... and the laughter scared some children away but the wise one said, don't be scared now...

privacy
miss you
someday
kit
what I do
why
the real?
because
deeper?
vegging
all for you (narf)
truth
history
qualities
moving farther on
if you can
sensual compromise
leave a message at the tone
or check my calendar to find me
the written gardens
the survivors
it's what i do
random titles
privacy
word

and then there was more

cuz i am not just addicted to some foods, but i am also addicted to sharing and have compromised by satisfying this sharing addiction with the illusion that writing these words is a form of sharing cuz they could be read at any time by you or another mind and then, sharing!...

so there is always more (if you find it :)

remember this

I keep forgetting the use a word processing program or even notepad to type the entries so I have a copy of the entries on my computer before sending them out here into cyberspace and there are millions of words poured out here over the years in that precarious position of existence, that is, in the blink of an electronic nanosecond the words and all the thoughts, feelings, and whatever worth there is in them would be gone, poof, as if they never existed beyond the vague memory some few of you might have of them… scary fragile, this sharing of words on the internet…

scary fragile, it turns out, is a song by butterfly boucher who I am falling in love with in the last seventeen or hundred seconds or so, maybe ten minutes (you oughta know it doesn’t take long for me to fall in love with a photo or song or singer or whatever cuz I am easy like that… of course it may not last the day, but what a day it could be, aye?)… another aussie, which most likely means austrailia is second only to the us for providing love fantasies for my heart cuz there have been more than a few aussie heart bandits (even if i am not into make-up ya know)… though canada still ranks a close second… and per capita, they probably are first, though maybe canada, but I never actually had a physical love relationship with an aussie (we won’t get into my affairs with canadians at the moment, aye?) so if you are from australia and would like to see if your reality lives up to my fantasy, feel free to apply within…

oh so romantic, right?...

so anyway, this entry is intended to attempt to remind me to type into notepad or better yet, ms word (cuz then it’ll spellcheck for me, not that I pay attention to the spellchecker or rulebooks much cuz I am a stubborn rebel and who loves me some typos, dontcha know) so perhaps posterity and anyone who cares might find, read, and find a moment of worth in these words sometime in the future (which is your now, if you are reading these words, isn’t that time thing exciting?) and then I’d go down in history as having existed even after this body dissolves back into the primordial ooze…

so feel free to remind me often… even if you’re not australian :)

aimless wandering

that's the direction my mind is heading and there's no time to enjoy it, so i'll just go through the day faking the maturity and responsibility and focus and all that grown up stuff while i let my mind daydream out the window of life...

wanna climb a tree with me? :)

writing magic

the magic comes and goes so fast, we mustn't always trust memory or fate, which may be why we write, among other reasons...

by the time you find me here i may be gone

that's the way it is in this moving world

in this moving world

spinning round the sun streaking through space

dances in your mind create the life you live

you are unfurled unfurled unfurled

pretending we can stay in just one place

begging for connections, keep the faith, there's always hope

praying someday someone will respond

beyond heaven's gate the real is dancing in your eyes

but by the time you find me here i may be gone

by the time you find me here i may be gone