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! :)

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? :)

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)...

cheap skates

and the time, i say, the time goes by so slowly and, you know, the time can mean so much, i say, so much... listen to me boy, i'm talkin' time here (dull boy, wouldn't know a timepiece from a piece of cake)...

who's paying attention?...

cheapskates :P

wondering about you

yeah, so you see (if you've paid attention, looked around lately, are aware, and care) that the casual cool self-mockery is back (dorky narf)... and i will keep hoping life was fun for you today every day even if you never know (oh, is ignorance really bliss?... you really ought to get in touch, i mean, all this silent time is making me wonder if you are still alive {better than wondering if all your caring was a lie, aye?}... emo snark)... and besides, you matter even more when you are in touch, ya know? (not so depressed that you don't care if you matter, are ya?)...

bullsugar!