Thursday, November 27, 2014

communication is a fickle confluence

yes, well, if you recall the possible confusion with this blog that might happen as they are so very similar in theme that i forget why they co-exist (instead of being one) and then i think i realize that the name of this blog has something to do with it (along with the seriousness of irreverence {and irreverence of seriousness}, if you are not lost yet) as rhetoric is the essence of genios (and folly, for that matter, and i always did so want to be one of the other cuz ordinary is so, well, done before) cuz communication is a fickle confluence that could create conflation or conflagration (or confabulation, even) and this might be a record of communication or even be communication, depending on your response, so while we play with fire, we hope for a well cooked delicious meal...

or something like that...

in any case, what that last paragraph introduces and what follows here is the latest comment left for a stranger... you are encourage to feel free to proceed at your own risk...

time and patience is rare for me these days, but i wrote the words insomniac's dream and almost felt excitement the way i used to when i found a word or phrase or few that tickled me deeply (if anything can find my core these days as it spirals randomly through distraction as an addiction of avoidance and superficial ecstasy dominates the daily life, but that's a horse of a different feather that no amount of mixed metaphor can adequately express without eye contact, so it certainly does not belong in a brief comment no less in the first few lines so we'll just casually back out of this parenthetic aside and continue with whatever was going to happen in this empty box, and or something like that) so i turned to the internet to find out if others wrote the words and found you...

not that it matters to you as we are strangers, though there's always hope it might if we chose to open ourselves with wide-eyed wonder to the trepidation of the roller coaster that leads to whatever two people can form by inching closer to each other, i felt it was only fair to let you know this may be the beginning of a beautiful friendship if it can overcome my tendency to leave comments with the insensitivity of a hit and run driver and leaving this message here for you to find is akin to a groundhog finding it's shadow, that is to say (what, more words?... so many writers have told me i can say in a thousand words what a good writer can say in a few or five, but i say where's the fun in that? {with or without italics} and just continue in my babbling ways), a rare action on my part as i do not write to individual people much anymore (once i wrote to dozens of pen pals and friends every day and hundreds of others through small magazines i published from home and why that stopped is a never ending story that may or may not have anything to do with your dislike of blogging, but reading your words lead me to a glimpse of that thought buried somewhere in the mind in the head i loosely call mine)...

the obvious parenthetic distractions you may have noticed already (because i give you credit for being more clever than a fruitbat... the mockery of the obvious is amusing to me and hopefully to you too, but if you are offended easily i suppose you may have already stopped reading and if you have, well, nevermind) save me from following any thought too long as avoidance is not compatible with actually taking a specific idea seriously in a stream of consciousness (and tend to push people and readers away with meandering rambling and massive missives {not to mention unattended typos and grammatical goofiness that any conservative writer might experience as something out of a stephen king novel, not in quality or style but in essence of feeling as a reader in that my style can be a horror story to someone who does not appreciate the infinite splendor of diverging consciousness, that is} which is probably best for everyone unless the superficial aloofness and mockery of most everything including self and language is pierced by someone caring enough to inspire enough trust to engage in explanatory notes sufficient to overcome fear of intensity long enough to reach an understanding deep enough to know something meaningful has been created in communication, but the rarity of such experiences has waned hope sharing can be real to a point of sarcasm, levity, and distraction, all integral aspects of being an effectively ineffectual enigma, after all)...

so i left this message to say... hello?

i sense in my brief tour of your online worlds, quite impulsively and for the moment, superficially (though injected deep enough into my sleeping psyche to bring me to put these words in this box and send them, which might be astoundingly surprising if you knew me) an understanding of the nature of writing and the compulsion to write that is one of the few aspects of the core of my being that has not changed since my first thoughts and discovery of crayons (the walls were never the same)... even these days with so little time for myself (working 24/7/365 caring for people who cannot care for themselves is one of the most effective distractions from self for one who loves to care and help people as i do), i steal time from sleep to produce tiny eruptions of words and those splat into some hundred or so blogs on and off the web several times a day, at least, (and i have finally learned brevity after decades of struggling to grasp the concept, though this momentary missive may undermine my claim) which a few people look for or find for their own reasons and i look back on fondly in my solitary reflection (with intensely irreverent seriousness... or serious irreverence, depending on perspective... or sometimes just a distant wonder, shock and awe, even) from time to time as the entrails of a writing life... euphemistically, of course...

and now i pause but before i do, i thank you for inspiring this, whatever it is... years ago this might have been the first few paragraphs of a preface to an introductory letter and perhaps it may be, someday, but for now it is, at least for me, an impulsive hello... once i wrote many thousands of times in dozens of different ways something like - Music is the fluid carrying my spirit through my soul, words are the cells forming the body of my dreams. I think in rhymes and feel in melodies and seek in life to create harmonies - but i have no idea what a spirit or soul might be, no less what might be mine, so the profound meaning intended may be lost on me and at the risk of repeating myself, there is more irreverence in my seriousness than in most people's irreverence and more seriousness in my irreverence than anyone has taken the time to explore... i do believe in honesty and love and imagine it as honest love, so there is my core faith and way...

whatever this is to you, may the time you gave to reading (which is appreciated more than you know) be more smiles than frowns and at least better than indigestion after a delicious meal or a mosquito bite, for that matter, and if chance is kind, may this inspire a bit of a literary giggle or the excitement of anticipation without expectations even in an otherwise ordinary (mine can be excruciatingly mundane, sometimes) day... or night... or late evening just after an eye-widening sunset... or morning mist, even... whatever time of the day it might be, may it be a good feeling...

or a few, even...

hello.

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

personal comments

for what it's worth, this blog may be somewhat confused with this blog as both blogs kinda sorta introduce me in different ways and i am supposed to remember the difference but i may just as easily forget as remember so now you know, as i said, for what it's worth... and what follows are comments to my blog family, people who have been around for more than a decade in this many-blog world that is mostly listed here, so maybe there is something more personal in these comments from a deeper place of a deeper time of a stationary life... and it... and...

i lose myself in life, in work, in softball, and more work, and in the words i write that barely look for response anymore, the words i write just to keep what remains of me alive in my head and perhaps, somehow, if only sometimes between the lines, in the words i write...

and i paused in checking emails and in wandering the facebook or any other web world, just lost in my daily babbles and life and work and softball and more work...

and so it's many days, six or so weeks before i find this comment... time passes, but my appreciation for you being here remains as peacefully smiley as it is this moment i find your words...

thank you...

and release yourself and your words as often and as much as you like... know that sooner or later i will look up from my grindstone and push sleep aside long enough to be here again...

and somehow, we are a little less alone...

now if only we could convince the rest of our blog family to drop in for a moment (the dreamer dreams)...

thank you for being here and for continuing :)

and this next one reflected on the blog post left by one of the blog family, a post pondering a first love and the possibility that hope could fade to black... it, much like this blog post you are reading, feels incomplete tonight... perhaps i will remember to return one day to complete it,... or perhaps you will remind me... for now, this is the reflection on the life and memory and such and stuff like that... and it... and...

and all that is left to do is steal time from sleep, but for how long can it be done before the body simply collapses and fails... and then what... who will care for the vegetable that is left?...

so i give in more than ever to sleep most nights, a few hours sometimes, sometimes even almost eight, now and then... and in giving in, each time, i die a little more...

once i was invincible... or so i thought... now i am alone and tire, even as i have life living in this space, life dependent on me for survival, a friend who is still a child financially and emotionally and i parent as well as i am able... it is a loneliness you may understand...

meanwhile, reading your words reminds me that i had a first once and i hung on to her for decades and prevented myself from connecting anywhere near the same as that first for at least two decades... it was twenty years ago, the band played, and now forty, and hanging on to that first may have prevented any romance or relationship from lasting... sad, as love, sharing love, unconditional love and trust, was always my mission, my reason for being... but what good is a reason for being when i've forgotten how to do it...

so we move on day to day doing the best we can... i do a lot of good in this world... i manage a facility that gives many dozens of people a heart-warming job that provides care for two dozen people who would die without our care... a small bit of being a savior, a small bit of making the world a better place...

sometimes i wonder if hope survives, which is sad, even as somewhere inside i know hope survives if i want it to... wondering if i want it to is even sadder and somewhat scary when i imagine what fear is...

ultimately, everything is ok because i continue... i know i continue because i write that i continue almost every day and the words i continue lead me to accept and believe that i continue...

onward and so on

and for the moment

and so, because i care,
i send an imaginary hug...
and a hopeful smile :)