In the middle of the night when I feel most alone I have no one to call so I talk to my phone voice to text is my friend maybe you understand I turn in to my words for a helping hand in the middle of a crowd when I feel most alone no connection is found just a sad monotone so I talk to myself and ignore silent stares behind whispers and moans no one really cares in the middle of the day when I feel most alone I want someone to stay but there’s nobody home I’ll look into their eyes isn’t anyone there just a vacancy sign and no one aware in the middle of a song when I feel most alone I listen for a tune but just hear monotone longing for harmony someone to sing with me so I dream by myself of something that could be so I sing by myself a love song fantasy. Don't forget

Bullsugar!

All The Years

Yes, I am fine and you can find all the years are marked in time in blogs and so much more (and more) as they pass (the last eight) and you can go back even further and even back further still and if you look for it you can find history almost to the very beginnings of what we might call me (who me? what?) and that (and this) is just the fraction of the writings that have made it online, I mean, in case it matters to you (get it, in case it matters to you). Yes, I know, there is a lot and today there is still more and that just scratches the surface of this life in words and images and video and music and bullsugar you can find on the web. From brief philosophy to universal news of the world (universes, even) to songs you never heard to wordz from who knows where the fundamental truth is self-evident for anyone to find (who cares, aye?) and I'll repeat it in case you wonder or have any concern that I am fine in case you think I've lost my mind. Remember?

Yes, Bullsugar!

too much to ask?

is it too much to want someone who wakes up with me as the first thought on her mind or someone who believe the sun rises and sets just for us i mean is it too much to ask for someone who feels i am their everything all i want is someone to want me as much as i want them to be the world to me... or is that just bullsugar?

hope i am

not just bullsugar and more importantly (if anything is), hope i am listening... the first thought as i pop back in here tonight is anybody listening and then before the ink dries on the question mark that isnt there, the more important thought is the title of this blog as i hope am, as i am respectfully, as honest as possible in my writings and sharing without giving out too much of other people's privacy (i hope and if you know me offline and i give out too much of your privacy or if anyone reading feels like i share too much personal stuff, please tell me cuz it is my intention to share me and the life i live and offend or intrude on no one more than they allow but on the other hand i don't want to encourage the foolish paranoia that most people carry around like a shroud nor do i want to feed the monster and wall that over-worrying about what other people think becomes and then hope i do listen and take it seriously when it is serious cuz that's important too and i wish i could read minds sometimes, especially on this subject or the other subject in this rambling if you follow along or any of it for that matter and there is a deep part of me that wishes somebody does and cuz the bottom line is i sometimes tell myself important stuff in my babblings and i hope i am listening cuz if i don't listen to the important stuff i could crash and burn and i have had enough crashing and burning in this life and it sure would be sweet to have someone looking out for me (hint hint :)

what?... another paragraph here?... with ellipsis pauses no less?... and question marks?... why this is possibly quite odd for this place and so i wonder if this belongs here but then, it must cuz it is here after all and what i mean (or was getting around to) is (or was, daring redundancy for emphasis) that i know i give too much for my own good, but somebody else must love the giving as much as i do and together we could help each other give just enough to feel the bliss and not give too much cuz giving is kinda like flying close to the sun with flammable wings, or something like that cuz somebody must understand what i mean from personal experience, and i just wish you would find this writing already and speak up and until you do, i am out on the edge on my own loving almost every precarious moment of...

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! :)

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!

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)...

unamericans

(e)thereal has received almost 800 page views from outside of the borders of the usa according to in the past few months which is fun in a statistical game and fantasy kind of way and i wonder who looks in and why and whether anyone comes back cuz the whole point of public blogging is to put myself out here to be read and open to communication and feedback and responses even if it's salted with much grains most of the time (cuz wisdom overrules fantasy as age repeats the lessons and the rational mind gains pleasure in being right more than the irrational heart craves the adrenaline rush of the roller coaster of emotional chaos) there is still hope (always hope) that you were meant for me and i was meant for you, bejeweled, even, and blessed be the children, every one, while this little piggy full of excitement and hopefulness, sat back, relaxing and smiling all the way home :)

bullsugar! :)

loneliness

feeling it more and more lately, especially after social experiences, which makes sense as the social experiences lack the depth and intimacy that satisfies the hunger that breeds loneliness while waking up that same hunger… i’ve always been lucky (or wise) enough to know how to party with myself, that is, to enjoy life alone… after all, the reality of the physical experience is that we exist in separate physical bodies, at least as far as our perception allows us to understand the experience at the moment, so the best we can do is accept the isolation of being in separate bodies and learn to enjoy the experience within, alone… that doesn’t mean that sharing isn’t wonderful fun and rewarding in many worthwhile ways, we just should not fool ourselves into believing we cannot live without someone else because we do, live in separate bodies… so the sharing we call love, or falling in love that creates a need for someone else, is an illusion… an illusion that feels magical as it inspires emotions that amaze and frighten and work on our emotions like a roller coaster works on our physical senses… and that emotion is the real, physical experience that sharing brings and the hunger for that real physical experience is loneliness… based on the illusion that we need someone else, it becomes such a real hunger that it can become a physical addiction… i’ve experienced that, but the loneliness i feel now is a deeper sighing wanting, more eternal and infinite than momentary imperative… the hunger is wanting more than the momentary compromise of superficial sharing… even more than what billy joel sings about in honesty, though there is an excellent expression of the first step, a prerequisite… get it?... anybody?... ah, but that’s the rub, or there’s the rub, to be more classically inclined… not just anybody can satisfy the hunger in me, in fact, no one has ever truly satisfied it and i am less willing to compromise with each passing year…

all that to say i am feeling lonely lately… and that’s no bullsugar, aye?... or is it?... sigh…

bullsugar! :)

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...

flying solo

some days, being alone is a beautiful place to be... keeping in touch with the real elsewhere... and the music returns... do you know what i mean? :)

the words and music are out there if you want to know what's passing through my head today, if you have the time to let the journey envelope you or if you simply want background music... i believe i had a very beautiful day when i put this particular playlist together... and softball later, but for the moment, relaxing... can you relax this much? :)

should do this more often :)

may i?

more rested than in many many months and yet, still quite groggy, only demonstrating the need for an extended sleep (vacation) type event and since that has not occurred with any comfort since the mid-nineties, it would seem to be about time (it's always about time)... so commit?... this year, for sure... this season, most likely... this month, perhaps, but may may make matters more manageable for manipulating time, maybe... merry merry, no doubt :)

the flow continues

at this rate no one will ever have the time to actually catch up with me, literally, no less physically, cuz there are just too many words and that's the way i had it planned all along i guess... either the one who would dedicate her life to me would find me and do it, or i'd live and die alone in a crowd, surrounded by friends who genuinely care and share much, but alone inside and at the depths of intimacy only the one so dedicated could share... for it takes time and energy that allows for little else and such committment is rare, if it exists in this modern world... still, i hope it does, if not for me, then for her, for someone, and for you...

sigh :}

ooo la la

yes, those are the immortal words of craig ferguson (I wonder if he twitters)...

and in the strangeness of being me in my imagination (as some people tend to do with so many wants and needs and feelings and things like love and imaginary friends and such, i find myself actually missing craig on the nights he is not on the tv as if he is a friend who really gets me as if he could possibly know and understand me as if we've ever even met and communicated (perhaps i should send him an email, snarf)...

but the true test of friendship comes when the limits of the perverse (what?) are found and the closer the limits of two might be, the closer the two minds (and hearts and the rest) can become... as harry said...

and so i dream a base will join me
and fill the bottom in...

goo

pixilated

or perhaps pixillated, but spelling is only one of the mind bending alterations that the pilixated can bring to the table of life... and it's long nigh on time (whatever that means) that we just up and faced the fact that i am quite pixilated...

now if i can only find a pixilated partner, life would be pixiperfect :)

glee

yes, who could share such a simple dream, from blissfully feeling the wonderful colors and radiance of the sun rise and sun set to the sensual pleasure of finding a favorite snack in the house and munching away at four o'clock in the morning... who still experiences the instant excitement that comes when a bit of sweet attention sparks the same powerful emotion as the feeling that children get once a year opening presents under the tree... can anyone, grown past the simple innocent years of youth, grown through the challenging years of establishing independence, through the monotonous years of working the daily grind to survive, to earn wealth and material things, can anyone, then, still embrace the full physical euphoria of glee?... to share a dream, to actualize the dream, to make the dream real... a simple dream, to share the glee...

omg

nevermore

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...

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 :)

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...