Listening to Placebo, Meds (after falling asleep to the Placebo mix I sometimes fall asleep to), which of course leads me to recall Ms. Blackery (who put together the Placebo mix I sometimes fall asleep to), the friend from across the pond I never met, at least not in this life, yet (more in the details, which would be this blog, so... here is the detail not in the original brief blog entry.... I think the deepest most real connection we would find is an insatiable desire for sharing. Not a mere desire for attention, but a compulsion to want to share everything with everyone, at the very least with someone (depending how personally intimately romantic we allows ourselves to be... as for me, I don't know if I'd go there again, but then, we never know what we might do when faced with the cliff of possibility that the deepest rooted dream of this lifetime might become real in the physical sharing again, but that's another story).
I am out here doing what Emma does on youtube. Would I make money doing this on youtube? Would the babbling be the same if it was poured out verbally? Obviously, but how much different. Would I be laughing at myself as much as I do here? Would I be amusing myself as much? Would I be crying? Would I be ranting? Would I be babbling? Could be I'd clam up thinking about who might see the vlog and worry about losing my job and income. I'm old and have no retirement fund, after all. Would I look at the video and be disgusted by my fat chin(s) and decide to exercise and return to a much healthier fitness? Is that possible? Good grief, who'd have thought all this would pour out here thinking about vlogging?
The point was to explore the attraction to Emma Blackery, not self-analyze (but then, self=analysis is an integral aspect of this blog, I mean, didn't you see the subtitle above?... we are loud like love, after all... yes, I did return to listening to the Placebo top 20 mix she put together... I am happy she did as it is a mix I come back to at least once or twice a month, especially as I lay me down to sleep... can we exit the parentheses now?).
It is not a sexual or romantic attraction (not that she isn't physically attractive). What draws me to return to watch some Emma vlogs (besides an enjoyment of Placebo) is that drive to share I see in her eyes. A hunger to be recognized. She might want more fame than I do, but it is a shared core life motivation that she took to her medium, video, ad I took to my medium, the written word. Then there is music. If you've known me long, you may have read the words... music is the spirit that flows through my soul and words are the cells of the body of my dreams (or something like that). I went on to explain that I think in rhymes and feel in melodies and dream of finding perfect harmonies (or something like that). Yes, the or something like that is definitely part of me too.
Publix just advertised their Chocolate Ganache cake, a favorite, and I want chocolate.
Meanwhile, this imagined connection between the Lady Blackery (she's British, so I show some respect and hope to amuse) and myself is as real as it can be given the current lack of connection, but I explore and explain in case she explored and wanted to know and expected details (I don't intentionally try to disappoint cuz after all, soulmates never die, ya know?). May we be amused, intrigued, and comfortably numb.
Yeah, so I woke up almost midnight, which is quite early since I don't have to be at work for almost eight hours and I probably should try to get more sleep. I spoke to Harpo for almost two hours. He brought up Eisner (as usual... alas, his obsession with Disney and tilting at windmills does not bring him the pleasure my babbling obsession with sharing brings me, but we all have our missions in life I suppose), Trump, Jeff Schwartz, some other guy, and other madmen (he's got darkness inside, that one, but then, so do I... I just put it in it's place and do not let it dominate my life) and I retaliated with Douglas Adams, Harry Chapin, Stephen King, Richard Bach, John Lennon, and my own natural wonders. Page 87 of War and Peace came up, but I have no idea why. Then Emma. I've got to shut down the computer because the Microsoft Virus interrupted again. So what have you been up to?
Narf :)
Yes, the Microsoft Windows Virus shut me down tonight, so it is increasing it's intrusion and further preventing me from using my computer as I want to and Microsoft appears to be doing nothing about it. I am saving up for the move I must make, a new place to live, but I am also saving up for another computer and it will be a Mac.
Speaking of page 87 (or was it 84?... 82?... 42?... where did I put my memory, anyway?)
‘You were meaning to go out, weren’t you, Mamma? Do you want the carriage?’ he asked his mother with a smile.
‘Yes, yes, go and tell them to get it ready,’ she answered, returning his smile.
Boris quietly left the room and went in search of Natasha. The plump boy ran after them angrily, as if vexed that their program had been disturbed.
‘Ma chere, there is a time for everything,’ said the countess with feigned severity. ‘You spoil her, Ilya,’ she added, turning to her husband.
‘How do you do, my dear? I wish you many happy returns of your name day,’ said the visitor. ‘What a charming child,’ she added, addressing the mother.
This black-eyed, wide-mouthed girl, not pretty but full of life- with childish bare shoulders which after her run heaved and shook her bodice, with black curls tossed backward, thin bare arms, little legs in lace-frilled drawers, and feet in low slippers- was just at that charming age when a girl is no longer a child, though the child is not yet a young woman. Escaping from her father she ran to hide her flushed face in the lace of her mother’s mantilla- not paying the least attention to her severe remark- and began to laugh. She laughed, and in fragmentary sentences tried to explain about a doll which she produced from the folds of her frock.
‘Do you see?... My doll... Mimi... You see...’ was all Natasha managed to utter (to her everything seemedfunny). She leaned against her mother and burst into such a loud, ringing fit of laughter that even the prim visitor could not help joining in.
Be that as i may be or not to be, it may or may not have anything to do with the price of eggs in Madagascar or the viscosity of oil in Nascar or this blog post, for that matter, but it came up so I looked it up and included it here. At least I included the version i found online, which went on for 2,882 pages, so the page number references may not be the same as in the printed text (or this version, for that matter) which of course could change everything so, in the immortal words of Ms. Emily Littela, nevermind.
Anyway, after the almost two hour babbling session with Harpo, I spent 20 minutes watching this video blog and left this comment:
Has it been ten years since the first time I saw you online? Now Google has that side bar of you with images and "British Singer" and a bio under your pictures. Wow. So when you make your millions and are an untouchable pop/rock star will I still be able to find 20 minutes of you living your life, watching TV in your bathrobe (I really don't see what you see in the WWE), changing jackets (do you always wear them indoors?), hair colors (this one looks great, but so does natural for anyone who remembers... do you? lol), styles, teeth (I thought about the whole whitening thing... maybe this year... I sometimes miss your gap), and so on? Going shopping with your dad inspired my smile. I ramble on about my life and whatever in words, never moved to the video mode, but that's probably why I relate to you so well. In case it matters, like, if you wondered. Yeah, so I am here because I woke and wanted some music and put on the Spotify Placebo mix you made and that lead me here to check in on you. You just had to know, right? If the comment is too long, well, don't read it all. If it being too late for that is irony, well, it's been a quiet week here too. ;)
Hopefully she is amused if she reads it and perhaps someday we will have our own babbling session, but I am amused and enjoy visiting her babbling vlogs from time to time even if we never connect any further than we have. I think we would very awkwardly get along and somewhere in our souls (whatever a soul may be) fall in love in a timeless spaceless way that the universe does not explain to our human consciousness at this time in our development as a species. If nothing else, we'd at least have a laugh.
Then youtube lead me to remember that I really like Kate Bush (Wiki). In many ways she was shooting star. Here is a older and younger random sampling. And as the hour plus long Kate Bush under review video closes I recall thinking how lucky some people are to be born into connections like she was, taking nothing from her brilliance as an artist, a family friend knew David Gilmour and he hired a 30 piece orchestra and rented Abbey Road for her first recording session. Nice gig if you can get it.
There is where I have been for the past hour or so ad now, here, you can have this playlist for the next hour or so, or week, if you like. One Two Three Four Five Six Seven
I shall close this bit of babble now with the side note that it was written after the last entry (which carried on from the entry actually before this which attempted to send a sincerely profound please to the multiverses for someone to understand) and yet placed on this date because for reasons that might be explained in the next entry, which will be written even further after the date it will be stamped, there were three days without babbling entries in the past three days in spite of my having time to sit around because the leg, you remember the leg, right? It happens. Anyway, it is tme for something else, if not sleep (which would be wise), then who knows, but something else. I am wide awake and you do see the time, right?
As I wander off, never let it be said I did not offer something different for those who might have some mental illness that prevents them from loving music.
May amusement and enjoyment be what you found here and may we someday celebrate together.
Narf :)
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