MMA, or "Massive Missives Anonymous", would be proud.
Maybe.
I would like to the "cutething" in question, but her online worlds were locked long ago and in my wanderings to and fro, I've lost her email, phone, and passwords, so I am one of the many locked out of most of the imaginary love affair with teasing and taunting that cutething created (real name starting with J?... oh, how memory toys with my affections sometimes... or is that early onset dementia?... no alex, i did not forget you are awesome... whatever, plow on through to the next point or main point, if there is one), but there may be some hope that this might help (or at least be a clue) solve the mystery this entry might be leading up to, describing, or otherwise hinting at.
Perhaps the chosen domain name, Fuckery and Whimsy might provide an allusion to the mind within the cutething and why so much love blossomed in the mind of candora and candoor and funda, especially funda, all those years ago (no worries, the improprieties of pedophilia in our culture prevented consummation of the romance in spite of an eager willingness on the parts of both parties... those parts were self-contained and the tantalizing fascination and arousal simply increased exponentially in the imagination and laundry bills), but you may just have to spend hours upon hours (not just hours), searching the web (scouring can be so abrasive) for the slightest glimpses of the cutething believing that it is possible cutething lives (exclamation marks come after confirmation) circa 2016.
Maybe if I Skyped, there'd be more connection, but Skype is for "real" fantasies, not the innocent exposures and unblossomed seeds we shared all those years ago (meet me on the corner of twelfth and never on the Tuesday that burger is finally purchased and follow the obscurity to restaurant at the end of time), but there is a band-aid on my camera for a reason, after all, just as there was never any compensation sought or accepted for any of the babblings in any form in spite of the beautiful music we could have made together if we only...
what will you make of me?
as we tickle the keys and posit our reflections
just words on the screen
what could they really mean?
dare we risk the magic moments or rejections?
promises are made
disbelief behave
could the unconditional become real?
love and trust abound
is that what we found?
anything is possible... how do you feel?
Oh pshaw, we were such naive little bits and bytes back then. Now, with straining pains in the lower back from over-excitement and a ring around the tub from over-indulgence, so many doubts and what we could well title "Mockery and Vengeance" instead of "Fuckery and Whimsy" may well emerged from the depths of silence and time as a volume of our creative worlds, but then, does that little voice still somehow reach our ears with the two simple words at the heart of every heart and the core of every most beautiful story every told, just believe...
did we lose faith somehow?
as we passed on from youth into the daily grind
could we still believe?
could we still receive?
the magic of sharing a mutual mind
who has time these days?
cacophony plays
attention distracted by struggles to survive
beneath the surface lies
precious power can rise
to still the madness and still save our lives
Just a memory can bring such an amazing thing (a "cutething", even lol) and if there is some connection still left or to be made, well, oh, the places we could go and who knows, the best may still be yet to be.
thought of things to make you laugh
felt a confident amusement
you'd ask for an autograph
now i gaze out from confusion
empty vessel cast aside
wonder if i am just sleeping
maybe i don't know i died
always thought i tried
how much i tried
i thought i tried
can i see a fuller picture
of the life i left behind
and of what i've made of myself
is it all just in my mind
if there is hope for tomorrow
will it be an empty threat
or a vision of a future
that i simply can't see yet
pray i don't forget
we don't forget
please don't forget
pray i don't regret
we don't regret
please don't regret
damned if i don't know the answer
puzzles always follow me
like a maze of self-protection
from all i might ever be
is it just fear of rejection
or a failure deep inside
maybe i am only sleeping
maybe i have only died
thought i always tried
how much i tried
how much we tried
how are we denied
is this just where
our worlds coincide
did our worlds collide
just to divide?
do we just coincide
where truth and dreams collide
do we just coincide
where truth and dreams collide
Well, that was a rush (thank you to Evanescence for a shot of adrenaline and hope that something might still wake me up inside, aye?... before another fall so I can enjoy the fall, ya see?). Meanwhile, back to the imaginary fantasy we were sharing...
more or less sarcastic
I could say we once were
much more elastic
I could rave about you
but you know you're fantastic
maybe all this fanfare
is a bit bombastic
selling out to the rhyming fairy
not mixing the meat and dairy
that would not be kosher
might even be gaucher
could be just for the amusement
don't get lost in the confusement
though it might be an improvement
this has only one conclusion
abrupt, no doubt
Certainly there is little doubt that I would do cutething's bidding without much questions, but sometimes, a question cannot be avoided if there is any chance of good bidding-doing, like but where do we vote? Even deeper questions, I mean the kind of question that could rock and collapse and rise from the flames my whole world might come from the mere breath of the cutething, like when did I start using the shift key and proper punctuation?
Thud.
it is sad, I've forgotten how much I know (or is that used to know, semantically) about everything. Not just everything, but everything and every thing too. Even (after reading all the babble coming below, be fair, start here, but first, let's babble) when these references stumble me (or is that me stumbling?) even as I feel one with the meaning because I want to but am not absolutely certain what or which kyo (and we can ask when does deeper become shallow? and other philosophical questions) or oglaf (though I sense some Gaiman in the flow... Latin flow, not semen flow... or I could just be getting hungry which leads me to consider the query, we were once vegetarians?... then I got distracted by those those dang Oz and a few other web folk... or perhaps we were flowers in another life, siblings from different seeds, no doubt... or cranberries, even... what? As I said, start here. See?).
But (yes, I am not only starting a sentence, but a whole paragraph with the word... grammatical correctness be damned, though I really do not want to be considered the literary Trump, rheally I don't... can we get back to cartoons, comics, and fun now?... or sex, I'll accept sex too, but not the real world, anything but the real world... please?) I do not want to delve into the muck and mire (and blood and guts) of the mess humanity has made of this world just now, so I shall leave that playlist linked in the what? above for another time, even as great as it might be (almost 500 hundred million views?... maybe that is a sign of hope... or of emo depression... will another generation rise from the ashes of the endless me (or poor me) generations again someday?... ... ... what?... how many views?... what is the youtube record?) and leave the rotting core behind so I can move along to the fun of the fair and return to the returning to the age of innocence and cutethings.
Sort of.
this may be continued...
And since I'm keeping it light tonight, here's a baby wombat following an IT guy around the office. pic.twitter.com/sacttisWN0
— realscientists (@realscientists) March 31, 2016
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