'bold' has yet to be defined

the essence of communication must always contain the original intention otherwise there is really no reason to bother to communicate.

every word should reinforce the story, or why include that word?

and then there's the story you are writing and the story that i am writing.  every day, how do we know we are writing the same story?

we used to remember the collective story we were writing together, but that has gotten lost in our busy, complicated lives we think we have these days.

in the journey of personal relationships, we have to first establish that we are in relation.  because, the truth is, we are not.  in relationship, that is, unless we are consistent when expressing our thoughts towards one another.  quite simply, i can have a million relationships in my mind, and, trust me, i do, yet its the one's in reality that are the most important.

and the same on the collective relationship.  that's important.  what is your connection to the reality you experience every day?  how bold are you in creating reality, the entirety of the vision you see, you are responsible for?  most importantly, what are you doing about it in your life everyday?

anyway.  yeah, i'm lonely.

#more

it started on tumblr, but that was in my dream.

so, in the morning, of course it started in this spanish villa i found myself in the morning after ....

no one wants to know that part of the story.
everyone wants to use their own imagination, don't they?
why is it iany ore fascinating to know what goes on in anyone's mind if you have no idea what they are really doing?
or maybe you do, because it seems that everyone seems to have access to whatever information is being gathered and there are just so many ways to do that in a digital world and the structure is already in place and who exactly is your local #nsavoyeur and how the hell do you think you can trust him or her, because there are some seriously freakish stalking chikas out there too ......

whatever.

seriously lonely.
but not alone.
so pleasantly distracted if it matters.
would just so much rather be at the beck and call of #urpleasur
but, that's just me
#playing until
then because
what else is there to do
#containfukushima
no on listens to me anyway ....
just know your way out
is never through hyd
and seek its just
hard and wet
when i think
about it
that's
all
i
.
.
.

the day after

I received The Sunflower Card, everything was different.  It was as if the exchange on that small street so close to the beach was a secret handshake or something, and I just was unaware of the power of this small laminated Sunflower Card sitting next to my computer.

"We both know, that the harder we try, can't understand it, we're so caught up in the reasons why....  I realized it was just a game.  I had lost my faith long ago."

It was 1973, I would have been one year old at the time.  Who knew.

As the "Return to Prime 73"
there is a reason you can
only be a virgin once.
so you learn how
you learn best
growing in
the best
place
yet
!

twas the night before christmas

we all have one of those stories don't we.

this isn't what chrismas eve is supposed to be like, is it?

all alone.  whether you are literally all alone or in a room full of people, you are all alone.

what makes this story even more tragic, is you don't have to be all alone, but you make the choice to do so.

i know.

the truth is, what i thought it was, isn't what it is, so, yes i do have to be alone, until i find that which i am looking for.  i already committed to that, which is why i am alone.

and now ... i am going to have a dinner prepared by a bonafide French chef, and go and hang with my friends -- like i would just because we want to hang out.  so, then i'll be all alone with them, and they are the best people to be all alone with, especially on the night before christmas!

and then, the real truth is, that there are countless people who are all alone tonight because their circumstances and today is really just another day in the life of, and this is the first year where christmas is merely an excuse to have parties with my friends while my daughter is on vacation.

and there we go following along

until we realize we are merely just following along.
not because its a reality we wanted -- that one we dreamed of when we were children -- but it IS the one we moved to by finding the common space of Marginal Comfort, with just enough misery to make us feel alive.

and then *poof* you realize, if I so choose -- you know the point where you decide you are looking for something and not just for something different vis-a-vis what you have -- if we choose to abandon that part of our security that is a source of misery for the unknown, that quest found in the vision so long ago rendered in our mind's eye, renewing the search again to live out that misery born in Cosmic Boredom in its lament for The Partner, The Lover, A Good Fuq, An Intimate Conversation, A Cosmic Consort.

Music for a Monday Morning

true story

all stories are true, except the one's which are fiction and then those can be manipulated to become the truth if someone is inspired to live the story someone else told because it was just so much more exciting than, say, their own life.

but what happens when the stories that are written get so far from the original truth that inspired the stories in the first place?

ta da, everything in your reality stops making sense.

what you thought was important turns out to be the things people use against you.  and everything of value and importance, gone, stolen really, in their version of your story, they exercise all the control over everything and they can do whatever they want.  those that manipulate stories to become reality, that is, they can do whatever they want because they know how to project out a story and then filling in the blanks with whatever happens to be there to fill in the story in the moment.

some stories are written with certain people in mind; others, well, they are written with a concept of a person in mind and then the storytellers manipulate the script to include their favorite of the moment to play that character for them.

the Best Story Tellers win in the end, usually.  not the actual best story teller, mind you, but the Best Story Tellers, the one's that have nothing to lose by telling the stories of their lives and how it all came to be.

http://youtu.be/9mzY-JgA338

living in hiding

The Algerians were coming, two vans full.
So, I ready the best I could and went to hide.
I am sure the party will be lovely but until the party
is lovely, its best to give them all the space
they need to find their comfort zone
in a space that is inherently hostile
to their mere existence, no
really its not just on the
surface -- a hostile
environment is
often just so
on the
face
of
it
=)

the room around you and the company one keeps

so if I were to write my story today I would begin waking up after sleeping through my alarm. I'm not one to usually even need alarm clock let alone sleep through it. But I did. Sue me.

I am finding it harder and harder to be patient. And, it's not that it's hard to be patient its just why do I still need to be patient?  At some point, people either get it or they don't you can't control whether people ever get it. The only thing I can control is whether I wait for them to get it.

so, I decided to create an arbitrary limit, if they're going to get it and I am to be a part of the reality they exist in, there has to be some indication that it's worth the effort to wait and be patient. I'm going to have to think about what that arbitrary indicator will be.

It's like an algorithm in real life.

so, i had this dream

I do not qualify my dreams as "dreams" vs. "nightmares", the truth be told both seem about the same to me, especially when i realize i am "in" the dream.  =)

i quit.  i quit everything.  i turned off my computer.  the next thing I knew I was looking down at one of those cel phones that can only make and receive phone calls, not even a text message; there was a tv in every room, they were all on 24-7, and I had a Volvo in the driveway, my daughter was asking me for the keys and my house looked like a Pottery Barn store.

and, i've done that before.  turned off the computer.  for years at a time, i have.  what i find interesting, is that life on the computer is just like life off the computer.  you can go away, those who are still your friends are always there, and thanks for spam mail to keep the latent mail boxes working after so many years.  maybe that's why i started that new blog on the eve of my choice to turn it all off again.

i looked at the volvo in the driveway while simultaneously listening to the 4 tvs I could hear tuned into their respective morning q's:   KTLA morning news, Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, The Price is Right, and some idiot on Fox reminding ME, of all people, that our government needs to change.

so, you choose, a prison with a yard or a jail that's constantly as cold as a house where the heater doesn't work.

and then you wake up and its all really just a game.  at least for most people, and when you are not a game player like that, you just are better off not playing at all.  so, that means, things need to change, except that which can't because how the fuck can you have any privacy on a place like this ... not even my accounts can be protected so that only me and the KNOWN watchers like the #NSA, #DHS, #FBI, #PSPD, #SHERIFFSNIFF, etc., are playing.  I just really want to know how someone can follow MY tweets when I did not approve them (besides, the #NowGenerallyAcceptedGovernmentVoyeurs)?  I mean, maybe I approved him by accident because I didn't, unless in a moment of indiscretion or oversight or I've completely forgotten the reality upon which I would have accepted his following my private twitter wtf?!) ... I do know that you have to CLOSELY watch those mobile app authorization things and I often get lost when that happens or someone who borrows my Tablet ... etc., etc., etc.