Still Here

If I am Still Here
that means I still care
when I disappear you'll know
there's no hope anymore

as long as I am here
I'm here because I care
no fatigue or despair can slow
the feelings knocking on your door

the babbler is so tired
and I miss feeling wired
but I am still here
that means I still care

little energy
miss something in me
but I am still here
that means I still care

and as long as I care
there is hope for more
even all alone
even insecure

as long as I care
I'm open to love
there is hope to find
the dream I dream of

On The Internet

I put this on the internet last night. Or maybe it was before, but in any case, to got me to thinking about what we put on the internet. After all, I put a whole lot on the internet (and I am not even talking about Facebook and the other social meeting places. Thinking is a two edged sword. Did you ever notice that sword and words contain the same letters?

It seems to me that so many sad and vulnerable people are relating to people abstractly through youtube and other internet long distance-communications. Even those not sad, I think it is sad that so many people depend on internet communications so much. I wonder if people are losing whatever social skills they had. Schools certainly do not teach them. We learn social skills after school and when most after school time is spent in front of a computer or online on a phone, well, I wonder. How is the internet changing humanity?

Who knows, maybe he knows (I wouldn't know, I didn't watch the video).

So then I thought... maybe they know (they being the previous linked person and the next linked person, in case you wondered). youtube has me wondering about life and people and our culture and sociological stuff, like does she represent a generation? Whatever the answer, if someone helped her calm down just a little and focus her energy, she may have eyes that could steal a camera's soul. She and younger people online have me wondering how the internet has changed relationships and social skills in the recent generations moving into what society calls adulthood. How aware of how unaware they are are they?

Is it sad that normal is to prefer internet contact over eye contact and human touch? These are the things that keep a generation awake at night.

While Janet Devlin is probably far from average, being a young person who never had to work before she started a career in music, she reminds me that devotion to something (music, for us, at least it used to be for me), is essential in this life to remain stable cuz being unsteady happens... aren't we all, at least sometimes? Then again, maybe she is closer to normal than I'd have first thought. She is definitely effervescent, at least. Wow though, I wonder if she has MS or CF or as her commenters think maybe fibromyalgia or something serious. On further consideration, she is not just another millennial after all. Sister, so now she's adopted, dangit. Luckily, she's 5000 miles away.


I really like her sense of humor.

So on an unrelated topic, I signed up for Tinder. Here is my profile photo.

This will likely continue... not just this entry, but this searching for the one and musing over amusements I find on the internet. As the years move along, I find I seek much more depth and cerebral connection than the libido connection that was the source of so many rhymes and reasons for rambling on and on about love and passion and bliss (remember the Mila entries, for example... just search my many blogs for her name lol). The lust is still strong, but the intellect thirsts for hearts expressing the reality of this life more than anything else these days and somewhere in her very brief existence this child has somehow found the stream of consciousness that I know as home.

There is a pop music version of this floating around in the internet, but this is the gold, the reason, the point.... on the internet.


Janet Devlin

Emma Blackery Youtube Comments

This blog entry is dedicated toall the people who pour themselves onto the web in any way, shape, of form, but in particular I am slicing bread for Emma Blackery, semi-randomly, who has a similar sort of addiction to sharing that I have exhibited oh these many years on the web (and before for those who recall a time before there was such a thing as these interwebs, cybernets, or whatever we shall casually call them as if they are (or it is) old friends), not to say that fleeting moments with any number of children of the . . . (oh what shall we call it to make it seem be cooler than sorbet?) who seem to enjoy being catalogued, categorized, labelled, and numbered exposed in their daily lives (aare they all rich kids?) and personalities to public scrutiny as if that level of documenting a life was just the thing to do for whatever reason.

Here, I do it through the written word. Old school, but my school.

Anyway, wht we have here in this mostly incomplete entry are comments I left on Youtube primarily t Emma Blackery). The video inspiring the comment is incuded just before the comment.

Go.

Random Emma Blackery Youtube Vlog, Poem, Song, or Something 1
You've come a long way and now face very cruel public comments and have learned to accept words from strangers as meaningless pain the writer expresses not even meant for you - and yet - know your heart feels the pain even if it not meant for you - all the pain in the world is our collective experience. Wisdom reminds us that the same collective experience includes all the joy in the world too. May the wisdom never fail to light your way to the hope and optimism that shines in your smile.


Random Emma Blackery Youtube Vlog, Poem, Song, or Something 2
Being aware of the sensitivity we can feel is a heavy gift, some say burden, I say gift. This perspective of knowing is better than no knowing and it brings a feeling of hope and lift. Solace in dark times is found in the few who understand being aware like you. Never feel alone for there are those who do. My smile is widened believing - you know it's true.


Random Emma Blackery Youtube Vlog, Poem, Song, or Something 3
I live there. It is not a way to be successful in by our cultural standards of success, but it is my success in this life. I do stray out from the magical place to work with others so I can pay for survival needs, but in my mind, I never fully leave that wondrous place. The secret is neither do you - I see it in your face. :)




Random Emma Blackery Youtube Vlog, Poem, Song, or Something 4
Loneliness is longing for sharing when sharing is not available. Creating words and music and art and putting it on the internet provides a type of sharing that can be done alone, but it can be as much illusion as reality. The internet can touch a heart, but it cannot hold a hand. There is a loneliness that comes from wanting to look into someone's eyes and be seen, felt, and understood, a loneliness that comes from wanting to hold someone's hand when no hand is there. What might happen if we ever lose touch with that loneliness is an answer I'd rather not discover. Long live the Outernet :)


Random Emma Blackery Youtube Vlog, Poem, Song, or Something 5
Without sadness, there is no joy - just as without darkness, there is no light. A world without sadness is like a rainbow without the color blue.


Random Emma Blackery Youtube Vlog, Poem, Song, or Something 6
So poignant for these times, globally and personally. Prose mixed in with rhymes, gracefully and aggressively. I love how you fill a page with wisdom from another age. My wish for you and your word is... may your messages be heard. :)




Music Therapy

Pieces of Existence

So much to rejoice about, be happy for, and stand up and cheer naked in the streets dripping in chocolate syrup singing Mammy (no, that is not an ethnic joke, get a grip on your panties), but we must ask why - e - e - e so sad? We can explore many myriads of reasons for sadness, the state of the world, for instance, starving children, greedy politicians, trailer trash bigots, arrogant insensitive selfish sadistic bullies, users and abuses and the one tenth of one percent who own everything, including the rest of us. The poor stray cats and dogs and people on the streets, don't you ever open your eyes or travel outside of your gilded bubbles?

Did you ever wander The Facebook Pages? So much tragedy. If that's too much babbling, you can, if you want to, find just the links. So many pages, so little time, aye?

There is much more, but if you haven't clicked on a link yet, what's the difference, right?

There is wonder and passion and drama and nonsense magic and purpose to all this.

Purpose!

And hope, there's always hope.

H O P E !

(I hope).

Once upon a time...

So then, when all else fails, after being almost metaphorically pleasantly distracted by A Fish Called Wanda and all the many memories it brings forth from the kaleidoscope of mirrors and madness and moonstruck (or was that moosestruck) and random links to whatever and what could have been and the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie that's pretty funny, you know? Then, I look at all these words and ask, would I contact me? I'm just skimming the surface these last few years, they know, they know everything, but what do you expect from someone who opens an individually wrapped plastic fork and things "oh, I better eat a lot, I don't want this fork to go to waste" and what other mushiga bullsugar could you possibly swallow tonight?

Might as well tell Facebook where good ideas and personal mementos and heart felt posts and the news and a world of manipulated shallow people and tons of whatever go to die, but that is not any sort of scientific calculation or some sort of magical mystery miracle (we can hope, right?) but then, what is magic anyway if not just hope of the hopelessly hopefully singing hopelessly hopeful songs to the moon and the stars and believing dreams could really come true if we just stay true to ourselves and awake even if it doesn't make any sense at the time.

Maybe we all need to make a public spectacle of ourselves, even if no one ever sees the vast everything we can be as we pour ourselves out without inhibition or reservations. Be the tree, even if it falls and nobody hears. Somebody hears, they hear. They always hear.

Do you believe in love?

Do you do it?

There is an awful lot of lip service to love (and most anything else) in this world. There's an awful lot of links in this entry that won't be clicked on and that just goes to show. Whatever you think it all means, your shoe fits.

There may be more, here or there, but for now...

nite nite

love you

Narf :)

Days Before, Daze, Even

It was another day, days before, another life, daze before, relatively others and so many more lingering because there's always hope for the babbler (and the babbling fool too), for instance, here is a touch of the madness (or something like that)...

After a couple of days or at least 30 hours of lazy-brain with a touch of poor-me sorrow that leads me away from wanting to write, I wake refreshed (sort of) and find words aching to rush out into these spaces I call the written gardens online. You've heard of paths to enlightenment and euphoria? Well, here may be mine, in case it matters. I welcome (and encourage) you to stroll with me for a while and just as much, to share yours. If you haven't found yours, I'd be happy to look for both of ours with you. :)

So catch up on the last few entries if you want a piece of my waking mind and explore further into the wilderness of words if you want more. Jackson has inspired much flurry of friendly folly from the recesses of consciousness during nocturnal emissions over the past week or so and the smile widens all the more to refresh my memory and understanding of who I am in this life, the universe, everything, and more (because that's what we're here for, no doubt).

Babbling may follow as I have a couple of hours before a promise must be kept.

Will someone stay awake with me?

Anybody?

Narf :)

Watching Perception

Being different is not always challenging, but usually is... it is so much better when someone shares the journey, supports, tries to understand, respects, cares... and when I find the love, respect, and appreciation the smile widens bigger than the face... to be loved is a perfect state of grace. :)

Still I wonder if it's sympathy
or just pity
or could it be
truly understanding?

This brain of mine is relentless
demanding answers
evidence that can be seen
how can we know we have been
if not touched by at least one of our senses
and felt and shared and known
viscerally
honestly
openly

so...
here I am for all to see
in cyberspace infinity
words for all eternity
do you know this is me?

writing almost every night
even sometimes in daylight
even if no one's in sight
to read these words I write

I reach out to the moon and stars
wishing they all could be ours
my heart is so much like stars
each wishing someone would believe
in them enough to wish on them
for all the wonder we could share
and all beyond...
one more time again

here I am for all to know
written gardens that still grow
as real as much as it's a show
to entertain and let you know

that here I am for all to see
in cyberspace infinity
words for all eternity
did you know this was me?
We each respond to awareness differently for we are unique individuals with perspectives only we can experience from the inside. When I realized I was born into this life, my heart burst into an infinite number of pieces like the stars in the sky, each piece wishing someone would wish a wish of love on it that would bring them all back together as one. Some people do life differently, but this is the way I've know, the experience I call me.

I try to express my experience in words...

anybody out there?

Narf :)

So I Ate Four Donuts Instead

And I am still hungry. I was nodding off in this chair, almost fast asleep. I stood up and cleared off the bed and went to the bathroom and came back and turned out the light and laid down and moments later, I was chilled and not comfy so I got up and ate two donuts. That makes four donuts for the night. That was dinner. And I am still hungry. I believe I mentioned that.

Would you like to swing on a star?

I wish I had a friend to hug
I wish someone would talk to me
of all the things that matter most
who they are and what can be
if we share everything as one
honest eyes that truly see
sharing everything at once
all of you with all of me

Did I mention the donuts were cream filled?

Narf :)

Lack Of Interest (but always hope)

You may have noticed a subsiding of entries here in the babbling daily blog. It's not that the dirt, drama, and details are not happening, it's just that there is less time to babble and that allows the lack of interest from you all, combined with the renewal of a couple or few side-saddled detail blogs (one for the body, two for the food, three to get a hundred more and go cat go), reduce the babbling summaries and synopses and massive missive and linkages that this blog is known for (what?... who knows?).

I still believe in love and hope for the one and friends and family and someone caring someday. So the brief daily blog is smoking with entries, two, sometimes three a day. As much as nobody noticed the missing entries from here, nobody noticed the additional entries there. Never let inattention stop the madness of the sharing of everything, never give up, never surrender, there's always hope, after all.

I think it must be content much more than interest, but that entry linked just now received six page views overnight and that is twice as many as any previous entry in months. It truly is is optimism much more than desperation that produces a flood of entries and this is true for the daily blog (though it may be different at this moment in time you are reading), an optimism that hopes someone will want to know someday and a healthy amount of who cares if anyone ever does like I am what I am and so it goes, and so it goes. All together now, who cares!

I was f. I paused there because I suddenly remembered that there was wash in the washer and dry clothes in the dryer so I went to move the loads and when I got back here I watched the end of a mediocre episode (this week's) of SNL and then looked through the watch list on Hulu and started something called Zero something which was some sort of Iranian or Israeli documentary and I turned that off fast and clicked on Blazing Saddles. Dang if I know what was coming after the f.

I was falling asleep a few hours ago after putting a wash in the washer and I started clearing the bed to lay down when the clothes on the bed reminded me that there was a load of wash in the washer so I gathered up the second load and went to move the washer load to the dryer and put a second load in the washer and watched SNL and wrote the linked above stuff and after a while I remembered the wash again and went to switch out the loads which brings us back to the f in the previous paragraph.

So here we are, now after midnight, and the laundry is done and so is Blazing Saddles. Yes, I know we're all very disappointed that this was so brief, for a babbling entry, and there are so few links and details and distracting, sometimes meaningless but secretly profound meanderings (and what about the parenthetic asides), yes, we'll just have to live with disappointment. I must sleep as tomorrow is another day. A work day, no doubt. Things to do and people to see and parks to wander.

Someday, my princess will come. Until then, nite nite, love you.

Narf :)

Body Fatigue

So I didn't have the energy to do anything and the brain wonders why it seems you only love me when it rains but I can eat mostly healthy anyway even if I am not exercising as much as I used to or should to maintain whatever life I have left. Does anyone look for me anymore? I feel so lonely and I wonder (so much wondering would you care if you knew? Who cares, who knows, who could this be and where are you, anyway?

Short shit, too tired for me.

Narf :)

Ah, So This is Life

The title lead me on a search for Claire Danes which lead to memories of how I enjoy her as an actress and naturally, because the search was on the internet, a couple of photos of her ass, which is very attractive, but I'll refrain from embedding the photo here because it has semen stains all over it.

What?

Oh come on (pun not intended), Natalie Portman has a lot more, but that's another story for another blog and this, well, this entry has has other ideas, really important (you may have noticed I have not been here recording any of the dirt, drama, or details much lately. If you know me, you know this babbling blogging life is not only about detailing the life, but it is also very much about distraction from life when life is frustrating or painful or depressing or whatever.

n the real world, this body has been giving me a lot of shit, literally. and I need to see a doctor about it but the appointment is in May, soonest I could get (I made it in January), so I've been to clinics and ARNPs and it's not helping so I need to try something else this week, another clinic I guess, but nothing can be done tonight so I am distracting myself, m'ok? Life has been the same otherwise, mostly good except living conditions which are the same as they've been for the year I've been here.

On that note, I found my new roommate. Unfortunately, he has been living, apparently happily, in Germany for the last three decades and does not appear inclined to move here, no less know me. That is, he doesn't know I exist, though he might, if he is curious and clever, or just bold enough to respond to the comment I left which went something like this:

At once I am, omg, that is, I am all at once, almost, gasping, laughing, caterwauling, and generous globs of generally sighing with excitement and dread, slightly annoyed with an alas and rolling of the eyes, but mostly a deep innate inherent unspoken kinship of some unexplainable sort that can only be explained by babbling incessantly uninhibitedly without regard for convolutions of verbiage, word constructs, language accords, or grammatical conventions, but simply and distinctly infinitely random free-associative mind dumping of the sort no planet has experienced in the history of the multiverses and beyond (never give up, never surrender, either).

I, the butcher of English, insertor of random blanks and erroneous titles, Queen Mother of Hypergraphia, and all my other momentary titles, not to mention the vast majority of my 100+ blog without any consultation or aforethought, salute you.

signed,
Kindred Spirit
(quite possibly)

Note: This entry may have nothing to do with the blog post under which it is submitted, it is, in fact, an instantaneous, impulsive, and quite ignorant reaction to the first impression of the first few moments of exposure to your blog and reading Note and About in the right column therein.

PS... My latest non sequitur or seriously irreverent regret in this life may just be that I do not have time to know you through reading your words and becoming part of your wasted life as much as I would like simply because I am too busy writing about my wasted life...

PPS... Nothing is ever wasted if it is appreciated.

PPPS... Thank you for being out there, here, or out here, there, for, for no apparent reason, I suddenly feel less alone.

Epilogue: This short script is as much yours as it is mine. Mine it as you will. Mind it as you wish. I love your madness almost as much as I love my own. Even if neither is ever known.

Someday we all will understand.

Till tomorrow,
Oui zusammenkommen in the middle
(I blame google and collins).

Namaste too.

hl,
ric

Imagine, someone who upon first (or second, at least, but who remembers how he got on my reading list that was accidentally up on the screen by a random sleep-click when I woke from Homer Simpson-like slumber in this chair last night and naturally, still there {on the screen this morning) glance, compels me to respond in such a fashion (see above) and declare with little forethought or assessment that he is the best candidate I've found for a roommate. I mean, imagine, right?

Perhaps I should introduce the unsuspecting victim of this particular post. Perhaps Emma will be pleased she is not the only one so unabashedly prostituted (or perhaps exploited is the proper term) by my insatiable lust for fame, fortune, and power. This entry, for instance, epitomizes the desperate hours I spend writing beyond any hope, a hypergraphiatic mania that fill much of the lonely time and keeps me from slipping into a funk, fugue, or other fucked up place/state. Hey, it's alliteration.

Perception is a fine distraction. Some weak story lines, mediocre writing at times, but the characters are interesting sometimes and the lead character and his affliction and decisions are sometimes compelling. The criminals sometimes give in too easily, but it's still got enough going for it, science and vulnerability and differences that gives it enough to watch again. Like Elementary an some other shows, it is a fine distraction for my mental reality.

This was going to be three different entries, maybe it still will, but the bowels and laundry and hunger and cooking and TV and loneliness and some other odds and ends distracted me and this window has been open for more than 12 hours, bt here is the essence of the party of the third part:

Still going back, I am, still going back every day. Like Oh wow, even. Every day. I return with renewed hope. Each time I open my eyes, I am reborn with hope for anything is possible and the one could be there, each time I open my eyes, there is hope someone will appear, someone who understands, someone who cares and connects and becomes part of the energy of the eternal infinity with me. Every day, I start again. Sometimes twice.

Blogger knows, I've been around a long long time (like dark ages time) when dark matter and dark energy were even darker than they are now.







Meanwhile, the day before today that didn't have an entry moved along like most, mostly at the desk, a meeting, the bathroom twice, the same results, then softball, 2 for 3, a single and a double. Later than intended because the message said the gave was 7:30 PM and it was actually 8:45 PM, so I did not get to the doctor that I was hoping to go to after work. Guess I was not supposed to go yesterday. Maybe Monday. Anyway, I stopped for food on the way home, juice, burgers, and probiotics. Random cures happen, there is always hope. Maybe I'll find a doctor tomorrow. Cooked food, franks and beans with onions and mushrooms and white castle burgers an lots of ketchup and juice... and today was a lot of bathroom trips so the combination was not good.

I need to finish the laundry and get some sleep.

This could have been better.

Narf :)