Happy Birthday

Happy what? It must be a New Year somewhere, as time is as relative as the comments left on old blogs when delayed by moderation. So I come here from the past to ask the same old story here, in case it matters, in this void so any call home on some level or other. Strange world, out there, yet I continue to return in spite of no sign of life for reasons beyond words. While other dream of games of thrones or handmaids tails, I seek a life where such power trips and egomania is far behind. Where honesty is the primary law and love the only religion. Where harm is the last thing anyone wants to do and because everyone has been enlightened to the peace and joy of kindness. I remain true to this seemingly impossible dream in these times of fear-justified selfishness, no matter the cost, and continue to give all I have away. Even those closest to me allow it, even as it is a road to destitution, discomfort, and self-induced dementia. Hope remains my closest companion, really. Some get the bull, some get the sugar. I remain right here waiting.

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 :)

what happened to this one?

it appears there was an entry here and all that is left is a link to this entry in another blog which is oddly interesting in a kind of what the hell is that? i mean what is that thing? kind of steve martin saturday night kind of mocking way if you know what i mean because it could be some deep dark secret was revealed and nobody noticed so it disappeared or it might even be some magical formula that could save humanity from it's obvious self-destruction (spells apply here) but we may never know now because whatever it was, it is gone as if it never was and all that is left is this summary of the reflection on the disappearance and that link mentioned earlier...

sugar?...

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? :)

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 :)

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!

squeezing it out

so i take the laptop into the bathroom to squeeze out another entry (but geeeze surely, don't call me bullsugar, if you know what i mean) while somewhere in the distance as if from some future dream (or nightmare) a voice ponders whether a kid who loved t2 knew the star was his dad and is le-lo enjoying house arrest too much and is leann too skinny in her skimpy bikini (but can we show the photo another few times) as if that matters in our lives, but that's when i dive for the remote to change the channel or better yet, turn off the world's most popular (and probably most influential and possibly most destructive) distraction as i add one more round to this party bus loosely called (all together now)...

bullsugar!

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! :)

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