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...

:)

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!

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! :)

what?... whatever

i mean, like, whatever (seriously, this is serious, dichotomously bipolar, even)... right, so i finally sort of updated the primary entry page to my web world (the only one left since att deleted the main gate, burned down the front door, and smashed all the windows {sorry joey} and so many other pages, sigh, yes, the house crumbles, but the heart remains... and att sucks... what was i saying?), ah yes, the back door now (suddenly) has a brand semi-new coat of semi-gloss paint (semi cuz the code is not perfect and width and height of the new vitally important text will change and overlay the rest of the page with every screen size smaller than a 15 inch monitor, but it's still brand semi-new and hopefully improved and potently (or potentially, even) fortified with ironic (isn't it?) explanations of what the world wide web was and sort of still is all about for me, personally, i mean, as a writing addict... yeah, whatever, and i know, you may not have noticed, but i am rather addicted to writing, for whatever it means like so maybe now someone will find my still beating heart within the crumbled wreckage of deleted pages that was once my home on the web and we'll fall in love and live happily ever after... wouldn't it be nice? :)

or bullsugar! :)

kiss kiss (or mild abrasions)

yeah, just like the europeans... or more intimate if you'd like, if you were here, and most important, if you were attractive to libido which is extremely unlikely, so almost nevermind, stick to the eurokisses... flippant flirtation or blunt rejection, your choice because you are the reader and the reader is always right... except in person, then the writer is always right... if you don't understand, nevermind... not even almost... it's all about the friction, after all... narf...

and bullsugar!

dreams

slept for at least five hours and woke with thoughts of $ on my head, rare as anything, but distinct thoughts of retirement funds and inheritence and death and taxes and people that i have let drift out of touch and ambivalence about reconnecting with the whole thing and before that i was reunioning with professional atheletes at some international festival and feeling a comradering while hugging two for an extended arm and arm affection while watching some celebration on tv and out the window off a balcony and feeling more connection than i ever feel in everyday life and i almost never remember dreams, aye? :}

what are you afraid of?

afraid?... ring slater-natsi at (oh wait, that's another bit)... no, don't call me, i'll just pluck on your feathers until you hit me or run away and either action is unpleasant, so dance in your circles (flowing skirt or whatever) and hope for the best because, you oughta know... drugs are for those who can't handle reality.... well, most drugs.

six days later

flashback leads to all sorts of things cha cha cha (the only way to know may be to ask).