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 |   Now a residence for BC and BCOF items. Random bloggisness wil apear in POTPOURRI. |
Hello!? Is anyone there?? Knock if you want in!    ~~Image #1500358 Sharing Restricted~~ ** Image ID #1646857 Unavailable **  This blog contains only items derived from specific prompts. I'm too stubborn to take the time to post the prompt that the entry is based on. So if you don't understand whats going on - well, I dunno - I guess that just means you don't understand. I would also like to invite you to take a look at my other blog:
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| I'm beholden to my memories. I beholden so tight to 'em that ah cain't let go. If''n ah ever did let go I might fall back yonder through that time hole and be the Hunch-Back again. Ah don't worry none 'bout no bissnuses lesun I 'member they dun somthin' bad to me before. An' ah don't remember none a that. |
| SERIOUSLY!? Often people tell me they can't take me seriously. I find that insulting. I'm always serious! When I'm facetious or sarcastic I'm serious. Irony is often the ultimate in seriousness. I see a fine line between seriousness and absurdity. Sometimes I find it absurd to take some of the things seriously that other people think are important - I wonder if they worry about the things they take seriously or if they think they are supposed to take things seriously just because they are worrying about them. Anxiety can make serious mountains out of insignificant ant hills, unless they are fire ants, then they are already serious - I just hate those little buggers. Anyway, I think it is ABSURD not to take EVERYTHING seriously; just because you don't think it's important doesn't mean it isn't serious, and just because you don't THINK I'm taking it seriously doesn't mean I don't think it is important. Yes definitions make all the difference, and we never know how someone else is defining something - maybe the major cause of misunderstandings, all the way from personal to international. I will leave you with a question: Is it more absurd to take insignificant things seriously or to just seriously consider absurdity to be the prime, natural, motivating force?   Strange Convos When I start a conversation I ALWAYS refuse to talk about religion and politics, whether it's a stranger or an acquaintance, unless of course I am drunk or want to start a fight intentionally; there is almost no one who initially agrees with me on these subjects, and invariably we end up fighting or one of us gets up and walks away before I manage to convince them that I'm right! I don't really remember how I start conversations. The way I remember them they are already happening. I much prefer conversing with women - they're much more intelligent, and their absurdity is so charming.  Shit! What Was That! Scared The Crap Out Of Me! I remember when I was real young I used to be afraid of scary movies and haunted houses and some amusement park rides. I think it it's just instinct to enjoy being terrified, at least the startling part - when it lasts too long and turns into anxiety It's not so much fun, then if it's fun it's pathological. It's good exercise for the 'Fight or Flight" instinct. Oh, I should mention too - some amusement park rides I was scared of because I was scared they would make me puke - that kinda scared was NOT fun! Where was I, oh yeah, when I was about six I stopped being scared of those kinds of things. I tried and tried but I could never bring back that fun feeling of terror. After about 6 it turned into that pathological anxiety. Sometimes I think when your brain gets too big for your head the knowledge that swelled it up makes all kinds of anxious thoughts and squishes out the fun instincts. Physiological and emotional needs that are filled through the experience of fear - Hmmmmm - for consenting adults? Well, I think my blog is rated 13+ so I wont talk about BDSM. |
| Which of the four seasons best suits my personality? I hate questions like this! In the first place I don't believe in absolutes and I can only get a very tenuous grasp on superlatives. EVERYTHING IS RELATIVE?! Sigh - I'll try to write something anyway. Right now I feel like winter because I feel old. This afternoon I may feel like autumn because I will be more awake and feel like I have much more time to spend in this life. Often in Alaska in the winter when it is dark - I feel dark - I don't think my personality is ever dark so that doesn't reflect my personality, but then a spectacular aurora begins to develop in the darkened sky and winter begins to reflect my personality. Probably spring reflects my personality most often - you know - the whole rebirth thing, and green is my favorite color. I keep being born over and over again so it is spring more often than not. I could write about this for the rest of this lifetime but I should probably move on. They say you can't go home again? Yeah - those famous 'they' people. I have had lots of arguments about them - or should I say 'them'!? People always insist they know what they are talking about because 'THEY' said it was so! I wish I could just make 'them' go away and just talk to you. Well, anyway, I think you can go home again if you know where it is. I have been in situations where I have obsessively repeated the mantra - "I wanna go home, I wanna go home". Then usually when I got the chance, I would go home, and realize I was in the wrong place. One day I finally realized - I don't have a home, except right where I am. |
| I always hoped there would never be a zombie apocalypse. Anyway, if there ever was I would have to write about it. I really never thought about it much. I know there are a lot of zombies around but I thought they were pretty much under control these days. In fact I can't even remember the last time I saw one!? I remember when I was younger, sometimes me and some friends would go out and tease them - sometimes get so carried away that we would start kicking the crap out of them. I had a machete in the trunk of my car when I was a teenager and I am embarrassed to say that I used to get so fed up with those -----ing zombies that I even went so far as to chop up a few. Kinda gross watching the pieces squirming around on the ground. But their friends usually cleaned up the mess pretty quick. These days I am more of a lover than a fighter, and believe it or not I have never seen a zombie I would care to love, so if there was ever to be a zombie apocalypse I guess my best weapon would be my feet! They were always pretty slow and I think I could outrun 'em. |
| I think about Ebola - do I? Yes. I think it's God's punishment for eating monkeys. And if I went on a hayride I wouldn't mind taking along a lot of monkeys - as friends, not as food. And I certainly wouldn't invite any monkey eaters. Obviously I didn't feel much like blogging today!       |
| My usual process for problem solving is to sit down, relax, and wait for the problem to go away. It usually doesn't. But then if I think real hard sometimes I can think about something else long enough that I forget I had a problem. Kinda like when I drank all the time, just get drunk and the problem would go away until I sobered up. But then I finally figured out that the problems didn't really go away. They just kept getting worse. Well at least I stopped drinking but I still didn't find any very good ways to solve problems. The best way is to just hide where the problem can't find me then come out when it gets tired of looking for me. Now I have a big problem. I am supposed to describe the journey of a raindrop. I can't even begin to decide which drop to use for my description. Do you know how many drops there are in like just one handful of rain? Like a gazillion or so. I guess I will just randomly pick one. One is probably as good as another. But every single one will probably have a slightly different journey. I hope I randomly pick one with a real interesting journey. Well here goes - as I get my little eyedropper and suck up a little water. DROP - one drop in the dirt - now I watch. This will probably take a while. I'll get back to you. |
| Once upon a time, a very, very long time ago - so long ago it was, when many mice still knew how to talk. Most mice could not talk, but many were learning how and teaching all their children. Some were even speculating about the possibility of building sturdy little houses. Because, you see, the smartest mice were running into a problem. Vanity. Yes, they were so proud of their intelligence and the intelligence of their children that they had taken to bearing these children on large flat, round stones where other mice could come by and see these wondrous baby mice and see how their studies were going. It happened, however, that there were certain two footed apes that were becoming aggressive. They weren't too bright, certainly not smart enough to speak as well as the mice. When they were wandering around getting in trouble they couldn't even hear the mice yelling, "Watch where you're going you big dummies!" And horror of horrors, these big dumb apes started occasionally stepping on the large flat stones where the most intelligent baby mice were curled up. And what is worse, they seemed to like to hear the sound - - squish, pop! - squish, pop! Each squish, pop, indicating that another of the best and brightest was biting the dust. Some of the mice thought the apes were deaf, since they couldn't hear the mice, and that maybe they weren't hearing the squish, pop, but just enjoyed the squishy feeling between their toes. Well, the mice never did get around to building their protective houses. All the vain, smart, speaking mice died out. Evolution favored the stupid, humble mice. I don't know what ever happened to the big dumb apes. If this story has a moral maybe you can figure it out. I certainly can't. |
| Pull up a chair my dear friend Thank you for joining me today in this lovely time warped hollow of October 4th 1914. I want you to enjoy the smells of the spring flowers blooming on the veldt and the aromatic verdancy of the lush vegetation sprouting from the piles of kangaroo shit. And one of my favorites is the piquant nose tingling splendor of the boiling seal blubber fumes wafting down the igloo entry way, not to mention the developing stench on the killing fields of the Slaughter of October First! And hello to you my esteemed colleagues, whom I hope are comfortably seated in your well padded armchairs, in front of your glimmering computing machines, and waiting raptly for the information which is currently 'streaming' to you through the heavens, some of which is streaming to you from me, hopefully without distortion, and hopefully without additions by any extraneous beings perched on the banks of the afore mentioned stream, or any deletions caused by the aquatic fauna lying in the deep, waiting for little tidbits of information to nourish their souls, if such aquatic life can be truly said to be in possession of souls.................I forgot what I was going to say! Crap! I hate it when that happens! |
| Trying to balance self exposure and discretion in our writing is like trying to decide on the amount of censorship to be used when we don't even know the rules of censorship. I gave up a long time ago worrying about being embarrassed. I never could figure out what I SHOULD be embarrassed about so I decided I might as well not be embarrassed about anything rather than keep being embarrassed about everything. As far as hurting someone else, I'm not so sure. I hate to hurt anyone. But I have been accused of hurting people often - even when I had no intention of hurting them and couldn't even understand how, what I had done, had hurt them. Since I have no idea what actions are going to hurt someone, if I was to avoid hurting anyone, I wouldn't be able to act at all. So - What am I to do? - Whatever the hell I feel like doing at the moment and to hell with the consequences. So far there have been no consequences that I couldn't find a way to live with. As far as my opinion about towels and sheets go - hahahahahahahahahahaha - hohohohohohohohohohoh - hehehehehehehehehe. Oh that wasn't a joke? Well if you say that other people think about them a lot, I'll just take your word for it. |
Do I believe in angels? Of course I believe in angels! Didn't I ever tell you? I believe in everything! Of course most people think angels have something to do with some kind of god. That is NOT true. Angels are ghosts with wings. In my younger days I seldom made a bad impression because I was a good actor and I worried an extraordinary amount about the impression I made. I usually made too good of an impression, and then couldn't live up to the expectations that I unwittingly created around myself. I didn't learn till very recently that it was better to not care. Who gives a damn what other people think anyway. I have decided that it is better to make a bad impression in the first place, then surprise everyone later on. |
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