passing through

and for no apparent reason i discovered myself here remembering what it was like to be free of the foibles and follies (what's the difference after all) of the responsibilities of daily life and random acts of kindness were easy without the stress of worry of rejection or homelessness because i was not dependant on anyone or anything outside of myself for my joyful laughter and secure self-esteem which was an excellent time in this life that should be on everyone's bucket list at least once if not always and even though i wandered astray from that idyllic paradise in my mind it still exists for my rapture and casual comfort whenever i dare to stop running the maze long enough to bring awareness of life and my existence to upper consciousness and once again everything is wonderful in it's own way...

even bullsugar! :)

she was a bad girl

stumbling stupid weak and whiny tp still stuck to her hiney wither worry left behin'e approaching the night before, heard the whisper, evermore... reaking of the cheap elixor prayers were never gonna fix 'er compound interest has kissed her greed corruption and still more, heard the madness, evermore... delicate toes tipped around her pretending that no one found her even the dog would not hound her as she laid there on the floor, heard the liquor, evermore... cancer finally consumed her kindness and payment perfumed her even the worms cried, "exhume her", corrupting the earthly core, heard the maggots, evermore...

oh, the cleverness

or whatever as even haphazard or seemingly disjointed (confusing?... irrational?... unappealing?... offensive?... oh gosh golly gee i sure do hope not, not any of them, really) at times, time, time, time still tells us a story, as harry related just a bit more than thirty years ago (time?), but for what it's worth, i've taken to telling my own story (with some others inserted now and then, names changed to protect them from humiliation and also to their sanity, i suppose), as you may have noticed if you have been paying attention (oh, the cleverness of nonchalance, aye?) and that is part of the point of the written gardens which, as the link just linked demonstrates, is now called something else, sort of (other parts of the point relate more to maintaining my own sanity, which all may merge into bullsugar in the end (and i don't mean this particular blog of the same name), though success seldom shines nearly as brightly as the hope of intended plans, the concept may not been completely off the mark...

parhaps narf? :)

The Afterblog: the party of living: so much more

The Afterblog: the party of living: so much more is a dichotomy of connective blog tissue that accidentally happened, like a kind of blog mutation, as is this entry, for at this moment of writing i have no idea where it is going... the bottom line we can draw from this is that life is unpredictable and whether random or destiny, whether carefully planned or chaos, whether creative magic or an empty page, whether profound essence or meaningless drivel, whether sunshine and lollipops or stormy weather, whether a concise expression with tangible value or a seemingly endless series of comparative metaphors, similes, and what not that leads down a long and winding road to nowhere, man, whether a wonder beyond any imagination or a slippery slope of infinite distraction that appears to be spinning out of control, whether something or nothing, whether art or bullsugar, it is a party with you or without you, and as long as i remember that and remember that i enjoy every moment alone or with others, i can and do and i suggest you should do the same... that is all (for now :)

thinking choices

so many humans are addicted to the rush of fear, anger, paranoia, depression, or some other thinking error that leads to hormonal surges, internal drugs, chemical addictions without even consuming a drug... some thinking errors become "illnesses" and others become accepted delusions (cuz if enough people believe a delusion, it become common-knowledge and truth for the moment {like the flat earth once was} and oh god, yeah, so many, though fewer, are addicted to external drugs, the legal ones and the illegal ones... sadly, the majority addicted to the thinking error emo-drugs and delusions do so much more damage to life than anyone else, not to mention condemning the minority who doesn't buy into the thinking errors...

and i sometimes wonder if i do any good with sarcastic mocking, laughing, and words like those above?... whatever the answer, it is better than sighing or the thinking errors... i choose the drug laughter brings... and occasionally, chocolate :)

random pauses II

recently i wrote (in the land of couldabeens) something about entering another world that was like a revisiting of blogs phase (which lasts anywhere from a night to weeks or longer for those who may know) and for whatever reason, i paused a moment (that is a relative measure of time that could be as long or as short as time can be) in my recent re-visiting of blogs and left these three blogs open in nearly consecutive tabs on the browser (in fact, the pause occurred almost precisely at these three entries for whatever it may mean (and if you know how to paint targets around wherever the arrow(s) land (and if i had the time i might) for this (but i haven't had time for real in-depth re-visits, no less painting targets and even more in-depth explorations of reality fantasy and the magical moments between in a very long time, being time, after all), but i mention it here because i want to believe you used to know, i think, and you tried to understand and even liked knowing and wanting to read the creativity and possibly revealing babbling that these re-visiting phases once produced (and this probably shoulda been an entry in deeper places {all of which are pausing themselves, in fact}, so for now i leave only the randomness and possibilities this re-visit and this pause might become), just so you know cuz you used to want to, ya know, cuz somewhere in my head is the tapestry of threads that form the whole of it all, but for now, there is only the moment of brief memory of the infinite garden sprawling everywhere and anywhere with little or no apparent cohesive purpose or meaning or whatever (cuz moments can be like that) cuz there is no time to step back and focus on (or into) the big picture so as to understand it all, which happens when living in the microcosm of the moment(s) as if time was a linear string of random blips and was not one eternal infinite experience as in always...

so for now, as dan fogelberg sang, someday we'll all understand :)

and i hope today was a good day :)

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...

:)

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! :)

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 :)

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...

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...

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!

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!

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...