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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 ID #1975123 Unavailable ** ~~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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| SIGNS I have always seen the signs of God. Everywhere. You can easily find signs of The Divine. But I have searched for God. I have explored every nook and cranny of mind and thought that I could squeeze into. I have questioned, studied, observed; following the trails of signs. The signs marking the paths to hoped for destinations. Billboards marking the ends of the highways, culminating in the worlds great religions. Surely they could introduce me to the one God who was leaving all these signs. I followed each down the streets of its ideologies, but their street signs were made of paper. The signs that filled my heart were not there. Their streets led to distorted mazes. Each religious maze, with its own crumbling, segregated neighborhoods of the sick and dying. Dead ends. Their Gods. Natural signs abound. I prayed for an explanation. Who put up these signs? These glorious signs of The Divine? Please let me know. I got no answer. Then it hit me. Just because man made signs are made by men, why does that mean that signs of The Divine were left behind by a God? I can read the signs right in front of me. They were always there. Even in the fine print, I see nothing about a God. What am I really searching for? Why do I need a cause for what I know was always here? Why would I care about a God, made in the image of man? |
The glorification of ignorance. Reality TV. Or is it just arrogance? Aimed at you and me? I prefer some substance Without the stupidity. I'm almost afraid to think that things have come to this. something has started to stink I give up on the rhyming. Everything I think of right now isn't fit to print. I've been thinking a lot lately about The Glorification of Ignorance, in many of the fields of life. TV being only one example. I see it everywhere: Politics, Religion, History, maybe it's just me. I think I may write an essay about it. Remember: "Nothing ever really changes. It just gets different." (Guess Who) |
| BCOF: An inspiration to write is great. But why must a writer develop an approach for 'the rest of the time'? I don't write unless I feel like writing. Does that mean I write when I'm 'inspired' to write? I guess you're talking about people who are OCD and feel like they have to write whether they want to or not. Or, maybe, people who have to write to earn a living? I dunno. Blog City: I think the life-story of parents effects their children to the extent that the parents decide to brain wash their children.I have set some records I have set some records. I've blogged in this blog every day this month and for 38 days straight. I think I might take a break. If some prompt comes up that I just HAVE to write about I probably will. I might post some things in my other blog also. |
| OLD MAN (It could just as well be a woman) Perspicacity and Hop-Along-Cassidy. Primogenitor, sits alone and waits to die, remembering old TV. Incontestably, a tragi-comedic state. Undubitably. Now bring in the clowns, on Reality TV. True reality is gone. Kookla Fran and Ollie? - dead. Wont someone come hold his hand? Howdy Doody Time? Where have all the real clowns gone? Lying dead, in bed. In the Nursing Home, the old man changes channels. Oh - Jerry Springer. TV is populated by those arrogant ass-holes! Poor old man in bed. Lying there waiting to die. Watching his TV. |
| Blog City and BCOF simply combined: I have to be in the right mood to write. That is no mistake. I couldn't sleep at all last night because I was in the mood to write and I spent the whole night writing in my head. Just after dawn I fell asleep for an hour. When I woke up my mind was empty.  |
| Blog City: It's strange how when I was younger nothing was ever my fault. I did get to the point when I realized that everything was my fault. It's heartbreaking to know that everything is your fault and there's not much you can do about it. Life is just a small part of reality, but life itself is infinite. An infinity of relativity. Everything and everyone has an input into every wrong and every right. Interrelatedness is daunting. People will never realize that they are all responsible. "Right" cannot come about until everyone works together. It can never happen. BCOF: Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to know, where I wanted to go, what I wanted to be or what I wanted to learn, I said, "Everything." If I could connect with one expert it would need to an expert in 'Cross-Disciplinary Synthesis'. |
| Blog City: I have to strain to remember the person I was at 16. Sometimes I don't want to think about him. He was the polar opposite of the me of today. I wouldn't change a thing though. The polarity of things change now and again. If I had not been him then. I would not be me now. Now I morph into BCOF: I like to study bigotry. If anyone has read much of what I have written they may see that I do not tolerate intolerance. If I could switch bodies with one person for a day I would switch bodies with a poor, uneducated, black female. What mischief would I get into? I don't know. I have to wait and see how I'm treated first. |
| BCOF: Four types of Ice Cream Cones? I didn't know that. I don't use cones. When I try to eat a cone my mustache gets gummed up with Ice Cream, guess I should say creamed up. A Waffle Bowl was mentioned though. I suppose I could eat out of that with a spoon? My favorite kinda Ice Cream is all of 'em. Another reason I like a bowl and a spoon is 'cause I like to see how much Whipped Cream I can pile on top of Ice Cream. And then, of course, there's the nuts and the various sauces and......... Blog City: I don't agree that it's better to be hurt by the truth than a lie. Think about it. Isn't the hurt the same if it comes from the truth or a lie? Now, if the hurt comes from the truth, I can be sure that what's hurting me is really there. If the hurt comes from a lie, I can just decide that since it isn't true, I don't have to let it hurt? Maybe? |
| Blog City and BCOF I can't say what three topics I read most about. I do, though, read about the same things I think about. The things and stories that capture my attention are the things which make me think. I must keep reading things that make me think, at least till I come to the end of my thought. I guess the topic I read most about is reality. I definitely prefer fictitious reality to true life reality. I spend many hours thinking about reality. Many days and years. Sometimes I get lost in reality. I prefer topics that make me think and ask me questions. Though I really don't care for the answers that authors sometimes come up with. I believe it proper for an author to pose a question and let me come up with my own answer. It is highly unlikely that his reality will be the same as mine. |
| Blog City and BCOF Walt and the Lorax sat on a stump, watching all the families walking past, families from the past, present and future. The Lorax asked, "What is way back there"? "Back there", said Walt, "is the long ago. He looked to the past brushing beard crumbs. "So the families walk into the future"?, queried Lorax, dodging a rain of crumbs. "Are things better up there, than in the past"? "Things of the past are the same my friend, as the things of the future will become. A heart can change but it seldom will." If a heart could change the past would improve, and the future would bode so much better. Creation is akin to what lies within. Oh my Lorax, unless someone like you, cares a whole lot for those yet to begot, nothing is going to get better. Will it? |
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