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! :)

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?...

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? :)

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 :)

quiet year

it was a quiet year, the year that just passed into the past, and i wonder if that has more meaning that i acknowledged or recorded as yet in the meanderings of this (or any) blog for there was a time, so we thought, that this blog was a new start, a fresh breeze, and profound step forward in the evolution of the written gardens, especially the blogging places and yet, the expansion continues as more than five dozen blogs flow here at this public blog site alone and the possibility of watering down is everywhere and yet, this may be why it was a quiet year here in this (or that, for that matter) year that just passed into the past and it may be that, in the end, someone (me, even) is truly listening, connecting, understanding, and caring in the verbal and verbish sense of the word and there is always hope for an actual meaningful method to the madness and it is not all merely...

bullsugar! :)

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...

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...

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! :)

kiss kiss (or mild abrasions)

yeah, just like the europeans... or more intimate if you'd like, if you were here, and most important, if you were attractive to libido which is extremely unlikely, so almost nevermind, stick to the eurokisses... flippant flirtation or blunt rejection, your choice because you are the reader and the reader is always right... except in person, then the writer is always right... if you don't understand, nevermind... not even almost... it's all about the friction, after all... narf...

and bullsugar!

the missing

yeah, even though i haven't been home until almost midnight or beyond most nights and life is so very busy with fun and friends and work i love and giving and food and toys and softball and basketball and games i love and diverse groups of people sharing most of my diverse interests and some oddities and even some tv now and then, i miss you and the song just keeps playing on another endless repeat... and me too, i miss me too...

bullsugar! :)

rolling

thinking about music thanks to a list-making moment or few and dancing in the dark all by myself, doesn't matter what i wanna be or not to be, the question has no answer (or 42), but there are many different ways to rolling and kinds of rolling and i'm just kind of rolling along right along alonger than there are whatever the song said, whichever song it was... there might have been a reason in the seasons of the heart but something change from the way it was at the start and i don't know what it means to you but it's the way it has to be there is still just one dream this true and it means everything to me...

all the rest is bullsugar!

more than the sum of my links

i was, really, so asleep and deeply could have been resting the body and brain as good is meant to be, but instead, i got into wandering youtube for music and mind games and all sorts of odds and ends (and you can find the linkages and other paths right here online as the newest of the hundreds of web spaces i loosely call home forms in sites i saw but you will be fooled to think i am where i've been for i am much more than the sum of my links...

perception

from time to time, when communication matters and curiosity about the world outside of my head has enough attention (not just pop news but a more personal view), i wonder how words in post like this one are received (perceived), remembering the oft quoted (by me, at least) We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are. (Talmud, Nin, others), i suppose those who feel lonely or self-pity will see much of both in my words and those who are more self-actualized and content will see the irreverence and humor i usually (almost always) feel as i write the words... feel free to tell me, even i am dead when you do :)

cha cha cha ha ha ha ha

don't you ever get tired of the emo whining over at the daily life blog (aka e-the-real)?... i mean, come on, the pathos is pathetic and all but swallows all hope for rational thought (loneliness swallows positivity letting fear consume hope, such a human way, nyuk, nyuk, narf lol lam laa)...

there may never be enough time for anyone to really travel back to understand it all, after all, many of the online babblings and rhymes are no longer there and the online writings make up but a fraction of the lifetime written gardens and this is just one life, cha know? :)

and what good is any of it without love? :)

lol 222

living life alone can produce such a singluar perspective even for one striving for infinite perspective and openness of mind... this is the primary vitality (or vital-ness, cuz words are so queer sometimes) of sharing, bonding, intimacy, and ultimately, trusting another's perspective... the difference between to extremely similar things can be so vast, a molecule change can make a chemical have almost the opposite properties... just wait until the figuer out brain chemistry, i mean, life (especially the real, ya know?) can seem so serious, so analytical, so worrisome and concerning and, oh, serious, ya know?... but the subtle changes, even in words, can be dramatic... i mean, there is even harm in harmony, after all...

creative insomnia

i closed my eyes (only for a moment then the moment's gone?... well, sort of {and we grin a silly mostly all-knowing grin} but more, a starting out sincere {but ending up half-hearted} intent to fall asleep), cuz the mind wizzes and waddles and rambles and rants through oil rigs and imaginary diety chats and softball replays and some sort of enlightenment and how humanity got so bent and ear rings that never stop screaming and a mind that never stops dreaming and books i want to read and things i want to do and games i want to play and promises i made to you and activities i want to share and people i want to see and way i want to care and ways i want to be and stuff i want to know and work that must be done and finding time to run and all the fun of the fair and clean air and long hair and blank stares and red chairs and dead birds blackened on the beach and people who don't practice what they preach and grown men who abuse the kids they teach and stars that remain just out of reach and theme parks where i want to play and rides i want to ride all day and stories seeking the time to tell and rhymes i used to know so well...

bullsugar! :)