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! :)

do hornets like donuts?

what the frick, what the frack, what the knackity-knack it's a clicky clack world, clicky clack clicky clack and there's no skipping forward and there's no going back, there is just moving on on life's one way track so even though nobody beats the beatles (as if cuteness was not a crime) a friend asked me once upon a time, do hornets like donuts and i said what? and what's that gathering my head sniffing about like a hound? do hornets like donuts? that's what she said, whatever could have been going through her head, do hornets like donuts? well, let's hope they do at least more than me (koo koo ka chooo) do hornets like donuts, do hornets like donuts? do hornets like, donuts? (dough nuts horn nets horn nuts doh doh dee doh doh) so i heard once again do hornets like donuts? and i thought that is so Seuss, a thought in a noose, daring to hang around, but this is not Seuss with meter too loose, daring to mock a sound, so what is this then a poem of zen? about what it's not to be found yeah well, if hornets like donuts then wasps might resign to dine with an ant on a mound and somebody else asked does it astound? as if the animaniacs themselves were not profound and not just...

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...

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? :)

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 :)

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...

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...

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.

and if you thought it was for you

you may be reading way more into it than there is and fail.

emo crunchy cereal killer.