Waiting

Wow, this started so long ago and I finally started posting years later and it has been years since... we can wonder why if you want to, but for the moment, since you are not asking (at the moment of this writing in case someone does not know how relative time is on the internet as I write and may edit and post at three separate times and you likely read at at least fourth time and, well, time is relative as it is, but even more so in blogs on the internet. Still the time date stamp may be accurate sometimes, which just adds to the relativity and amuses me as most things do eventually while I am writing... it's why I write, in case you wondered and didn't know, among other reasons, but I believe digression shall conclude now and whatever it is I came here to write might actually happen), we'll just continue with whatever I came here to write), I wait until you do. Bullsugar! :)

really?

it may be that i lack an audience because i enjoy irreverence (and word play leading to repetitive redundancy and parenthetic distraction) so much i may appear to present as pretentious obscurantism or perhaps i am just misunderstood but i do wander into wonder a lot more than the average pineapple and we can easily be distracted by almost anything, even squirrels, and there are those profoundly meaningful or meaningless questions (because everything's relative) that come to mind like why are brits afraid to smile (teeth issues in their genes, perhaps) or would Richard Dawkins hate me or is there a point to all this (or all this, even) and of course the occasional love of meaninglessness, like pretentious obscurantism, is in the mind of the beholder relative, remember?) for everything is always a matter of perspective and opinion, after all (except what we know for sure, that is), but don't mind me, i am still looking for empirical evidence of my own existence...

and 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...

younger every day

yes, sometimes i feel like i am getting younger every day and it's not just the chocolate talking either cuz the power feels so real and that could be a perception manifestation of becoming more aware every day and the awareness presents the perception of being younger when in fact the time passing is physically adding a day of life to this life every day which would be something quite the opposite of getting younger and yet it still feels like i am getting younger every day so illusion or not, it's a good feeling...

even if it's mostly bullsugar :)

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!

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 :)

button

sometimes, i love to push buttons... sometimes out of sheer boredom, most times out of innocent curiosity... i mean, if a button is there for all to see (or even if it is hidden and i am the only one to see it), what is the harm in pushing it?... isn't that what buttons are for?...

on the other hand, some buttons are booby trapped... especially buttons that people build, consciously or not, to cover up stuff they do not want to deal with (so here, push this button and blow it up and we will blame you for pushing the button instead of holding the bomb builder accountable for covering up the mess they tried to avoid)... this is especially true when dealing with humans with fragile egos and irrational fears and avoidance habits, people who would rather filibuster than resolve, people who conditioned themselves to be more comfortable with discomfort, conflict, and confusion than with peace, love, and happiness... know anybody like that?...

if you want to snap, why button?... or if you don't want to snap, why build a button?... why not a zipper?... are we making fun?... semantics are not the villain here, no matter what it looks like to you... but can you really answer the question?... what is the question?...

welcome to my work (professional life, that is... i defuse bombs... or set them off, depending upon perspective... personal life too, but that's another story for those who realize everyone does it to some degree)... i love the challenge most of the time, kind of the same way i love to push buttons, sometimes our of boredom, most times out of innocent curiosity... and if we can cut to the bottom line, my intention is to help... to remove the cover and resolve the fear and diffuse the bomb and allow peace, love, and happiness to overcome the discomfort, conflict, and confusion... but until you see that, sometimes i just ask...

why build a button, after all, if it is just to be ignored?... why build a button if it is never to be pushed?... makes no sense, really, unless you are looking for conflict, just setting a trap and if you are, even if you do not know it (and most probably don't, but that's another story), the next question may be is the trap for someone else or for you?...

of course i could be wrong... it could all be bullsugar... show me? :)

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...

:)

relativeness

as opposed to relativity, i suppose, though that may be moot (or relative to perspective) as the pondering producing this postulation forms the words in the form of a question (thank you alex) of profoundity (or profundity or profoundness, for that matter) as if to query if everything was profound, would anything be profound and if everything was creative brilliance, would anything be creative brilliance and so ultimately in considering the relative meaningfulness of the individual blog entries right here and now i come to the question, if everything was equally meaningful, would anything have meaning?...

bullsugar? :)

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...

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!

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! :)

where have you been? (narf)

hiding or oblivious

you once knew the way

but years have lead you somewhere

have you been astray?

why would you want to be an ass tray?... toilet seat?... smoker?... ah, ash, as if...

play with the letters and you might see

you are as oblivious as me

but somewhere deeper you understand

you had the power in your own hand

all along

as simple as writing your song

but beware when listening to it on the radio cuz The mammalian brain is protected by the blood-brain barrier, which prevents harmful substances from reaching the brain tissue [and] there is evidence that exposure to electromagnetic fields at non thermal levels disrupts this barrier. dontchaknow... narf.

six days later

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