and if the fantasy of love
were more fulfilling than its consummation,

would you yet tease me on
with your crystal distillations?

prod me to embrace
the un-made-up face of “our reality”?

disenchant me of my heightened elation
just so “I could see”?

untie the knot (not?) of imagination
and so release the air from my balloon?

compel me to accept the eventuality
of the rose’s dispelled bloom?

would you thus love me lover
and lead me toward the tomb?

or stay my friend forever leaving
me to daydream of sweet womb?

There are thousands of ways to love a woman.  And as you ponder the countless variations of sex that are possible, just remember this: sex is simply one of them.  And overrated by many at that.

Can u du Xanga with me??!!

Located on the beautiful Spanish island of Ibiza, Can Xanga (for those of you who don't much care for the primitive rugggedness of the lost kingdom of Xanga, Angola) is our Mediterranean getaway!

Go to Can Xanga to make our reservation!

Here's a Babel Fish translation of what you'll find:

Small, but very cosy small house located in the town of San Jorge. Completely fence it has a leaned house. Small land to the entrance, is acceded to the patio where there are the swimming pool of 8 x 4 meters. From the house it has two entrances here, one to the kitchen with dining room including and with chimney. The other to the hall that gives access both to dormitories, one married and another double. Complete bath. 2 kms of the beach, 4 kms of the Salt mines and 4'5 kms. of Ibiza.

Can Xanga!!!  Can U???

So moved and yet unmoving...

The Lore of the Tides:

Once upon a time there was a little planet with lots of water that fell in love with a bigger planet that was thirsty.  Wanting to fulfill the bigger planet's every need, the little planet fell into orbit around the bigger planet and began surrendering its oceans by craterfuls to the larger one.  Soon the larger planet grew to be the bluest planet in the universe while the little one still circled in its deepest admiration of milky whiteness (yet harboring its own nurture of life-sustaining waters deep within).  The bluest planet was so taken by the little planet's loving gift that it pledged forever to mix the waters well as one would the saliva of ones' tongues in a luscious open-mouthed kiss.  And even the waters themselves, never forgetting the heart and bosom from whom they were bequeathed, still leap with joy regularly during moments of growing closer as if to gesture a return to the primal mother to make all replete again.

like the heaving breasts of a woman pulsating in passionate embrace...

don't ask me where i am

     ...i am nowhere.

don't ask me what i'm doing

     ...i'm doing nothing.

don't ask me who i am

     ...i am no one.

just feeling...feeling with the heart.

the mind sucks too much and is burdened with too many thoughts of who loves who and who did what to whom when or how i wonder do you get along without me when i can't ever even seem to get along without myself let alone my thoughts about your thoughts about me.

this no one is awaiting one moment:

to (still) be a friend.

accomplish me that.

i don't quite understand while all the women have been keeping so clear of me lately.

I mean, that's not a computer in my briefcase

    ...it's only a nuclear bomb.

*stares at the white rectangular thin-film-transitored tabula rasa of a “new weblog entry”*

*is visually deluged by a kaleidoscoping warble of half-demented hyper-rainbows and prurient bubbling pustules of cyber-magma which upon bursting float toward me as blog happy faces  and kiss-hearts  left sentimentally by a dopey-lovey blogger like dung from a mounted-police horsey doing it in the middle of the road*

*wonders why, if LSD has this effect on all the peeps, there’s still such a fixation for its purported prowess*

what do you mean *DSL* ???

oh shit….

I canvassed virtually all of my 290 SIRs on Thanksgiving.  So was it the Sites I Read (reed) or Sites I Read (red)??  For 60 (21%), clearly the latter Read -- for they are essentially gone.  Some left without any fanfare, some left unexpectedly and never returned (Rebel), some left in disgrace (disclaimer), I know of two that died (Wildheart and Thumper12)...there are possibly more...

Anyway, those that left with some explanation offered the following:

OK so I lied...but, I'm really back now.
--Riplee

This blog is virtually deserted, so methinks it's time to say bye-bye to Xanga and all of the non-existant people who left me non-existant comments.
Chowder.
--Broken_Doll

I'm sorry guys. I have decided online diaries are a bad idea. For me, that is. You never know who else is reading. Anyways. I still love you all and will still check up on your sites from time to time. I think this is a great community full of great people. Take care guys.
Love, Sapphirine
--Sapphirine

I am going on hiatus guys. I need to devote more time to other things, including myself. I will still read my daily subs, and hand out the props when I can.  You guys are wonderful, much lust to everyone! 
--Deviant

I have a new home... Follow Me!
--Eyllani

Okay, well, since I can't delete my subscription, the weblog will stay up.  I doubt I'll update it ever though.  See you around (not)!
--Number7

It saddens me to be writing this, but my Xanga train has reached the end of the road. Writers block has always been a problem for me, but lately it has reached desperate levels. I spend too much time, sitting here, never knowing what to write, and as a result I am stressing myself out.
--HeavenScent

goodbye...i wish you all the best life has to offer...it is time for this angel to return to heaven...she has been blue too long, a little happiness is in order, don't you think? i will miss you, be good...know that i still give my love to you all...
--azure_mariposa

In the xanga imposed silence of the past week, I have realized that I have very little to say.  I have stopped thinking in blog form.  And I have stopped thinking that my thoughts might be important enough to capture and post for others to read.  So it is time to close up this page, and move on.  Perhaps even to find a life for myself, assuming one exists.
--blueangel

FREDDY'S FINAL WEBLOG ENTRY.
Yup, it's over. Recieved an email from the administrator. No more Xanga. I haven't got internet at home yet, so that means my days in Xangaland are over. It's been one hell of a time together with you, both laughing and sobbing. I think it's been a great way to get to "know" you and your country. I will not delete my profile at Xanga, 'cause I hope I one day will be able to return.
--freddybrakestad

I have lost all interest in logging the days of my life. Xanga was fun for a while, but now....eh!
This is the last entry of Ravendestiny on Xanga. Will a new entity appear? Never say never...
So to all those you shared in my little journey, thank you.
Peace
--RavenDestiny

This site is closed.
--grandapaboy

I'm done
Well this is it. I am finished with Xanga. I am tired of being the subject of a certain bloggers accusations, and I'm sick to death of being made a scape goat for something I had nothing to do with.
--Spirits

Peace to all who have left.  And if you never return, even under a different alias, may your journey onward be blessed!

I know the chart is fuzzy, but that's how I like statistics!

(1) November 15-16;  (2)  16-17;  (3) 17-18;  (4) 18-19; (5) 19-20; (6)  20-21; (7) 21-22

new posts: (1)  200   (2)  250   (3)   275    (4)   425   (5)   575    (6)   1000  (7)  1675

Xanga has always been a big holiday draw and Thanksgiving appears no exception.  The plot above portrays the submission of new posts daily over the past week, from morning till morning.  So Nov 15-16 was last Thursday morning to Friday morning, Nov 16-17 was last Friday morning to Saturday morning, etc.  It should be noted that last Thursday there was about an 8 hour outage during the day that probably adversely impacted submissions.

Over so short a time span, not much conclude except:

It appears that at most there are no more than 345 (average of first 5 days, the last two left of due to "holiday effect") daily bloggers (daily regulars)--less than 1% of the 40,000 plus members (current and once-upon).  Actually, my own feeling is that a more realistic figure of daily regulars (rarely missing a day--like myself and others you know, e.g., fairestc, verymodern, riottgrrrl, virgilmvx, etc.) is closer to 200-250, or about one half of 1% of all all-time members.  That's a very modest number in terms of internet "traffic" but in terms of community cohesion, too sizable for any one person to keep in daily contact with.  Nothing like 3/4 of a year ago when there were probably about 25-35 regulars and you could daily reach out and touch everyone! 

I'll follow up next week sometime with a matching chart to examine the post-Thanksgiving developments.

Turkey Terrorism

Fact: Since 1947, the National Turkey Federation (NTF) has presented the President of the United States with a live turkey and two dressed turkeys in celebration of Thanksgiving.  After the ceremony, the live bird retires to a historical farm to live out the rest of its years.

Spin: I propose they name the live turkey *Osama* this year and present the President additionally with a very sharp chopping blade and block.

Fact: Ninety-five percent of Americans surveyed by the National Turkey Federation eat turkey at Thanksgiving. The average weight of turkeys purchased for Thanksgiving is 15 pounds, meaning that approximately 675 million pounds of turkey are consumed in the U.S. each Thanksgiving.

Spin: If you had just one penny for every pound of turkey Americans consume, you’d be rich!!

If you had just one penny for every pound of turkey you consume, you’d be poor but full if not fat!!!

But who are the 5% that don’t eat turkey?  How un-American!  The FBI should profile people who don’t eat turkey as potential Osama-the-turkey sympathizing terrorists.

Fact: It's estimated that turkeys have 3,500 feathers at maturity. The bulk of turkey feathers are composted or otherwise disposed of; however, some feathers may be used for special purposes.

Spin: Special purposes include torturing suspected terrorists by tickling them to death with salmonella-laced groin feathers.

Fact: When Neil Armstrong and Edwin Aldrin sat down to eat their first meal on the moon, their foil food packets contained roasted turkey and all of the trimmings.

Spin: So who was the first turkey on the moon?  Don’t tell me that historians slipped up and failed to properly credential the critter before consumption!!  This has got to be the most unsung would-be-famous turkey of all—damn thing couldn’t even fly (unlike most other respectable birds) but lands on the moon first!  And to think they called the first lunar lander "the Eagle” !!!

Fact: The white meat is generally preferred in the U.S. while other countries choose the dark meat.

Spin: I like just the uncreamed Oreo cookie halves—do you want to lick the middle cream?   I like just the pizza crust, wanna suck up my cheese?

Fact: In 2000, about 267 million turkeys were raised. We estimate that 45 million of those turkeys were eaten at Thanksgiving, 22 million at Christmas and 19 million at Easter.

Spin: While we feast at Thanksgiving, the Muslims are fasting for Ramadan.  But our military airborne drops of food to the Afghans do contain turkey—see :we’re trying to seduce them to secular Western ways!  Just another reason for (has-) bin Laden to hate us and another reason to name the presidential turkey *Osama*!

Fact: Benjamin Franklin, who proposed the turkey as the official United States' bird, was dismayed when the bald eagle was chosen over the turkey. Franklin wrote to his daughter, referring to the eagle's "bad moral character," saying, "I wish the bald eagle had not been chosen as the representative of our country! The turkey is a much more respectable bird, and withal a true original native of America."

Spin: Franklin obviously had the foresight to realize that bald eagles would become an endangered species and thus protected from hunting and consumption while turkeys would remain prodigiously procreative (fucking each other’s brains out) and thus prime meat!!!  “Respecting” of Ben’s voracious appetite, indeed!!

Hey, Ben would even had called the first lunar lander "the Turkey" -- *the Turkey has landed* !

*Facts courtesy of the National Turkey Federation

There’s not an enemy that can do me harm:
I alone enable, empower, ennoble
(or drag myself salaciously down). 
So it’s always been—shall it always be?
Or have I missed the subtle signs
of an ominous incorporate malignancy?

Why is it I always surge
beyond the restrictions I find erect?
Never yielding to merely hold and protect
that which clearly’s found as mine—
Bounding instead headstrong against time
 again and again and again?

Countless are the secrets of my youth interred
in a haze of non-consciousness
—as if time capsules waiting to be exhumed.
If only now I can again trick the trickster Death
and dance down that rejuvenating gauntlet of doom.

If you were Osama (has)-bin Laden, what would now be your ranking of immediately desirable outcomes, from high to low??

1) Escape to a safe haven.

2) Die fighting the Northern Alliance.

3) Remain effectively hidden and operating as is.

4) Be taken prisoner alive.

5) Be killled and have your corpse discovered.

6) Be killed but never be discovered (with, perhaps, confidantes secretly burying your body)

7) Commit suicide alone and never be discovered.

8) Convert to guerrilla warfare tactics as an irregular fighter.

9) Other (you fill in)

My view is: 3, 1, 6-7, 8, 5, then 4.

I think that he would rather serve as an undiscovered terrorizing ghost still legendarily haunting the western world with the possibility that he is still alive in our minds than become a mere grunt guerilla in battle with other Arabs in Afghanistan.

Have you heard any rumors lately?

Do you want to start one?

Stupid Random Site Tricks:

...go to 12 consecutively random sites and select consecutively ranked words (1st from 1st, 2nd from 2nd, etc.) and put them together to see what you got:

I make nominated my Thursday the October 2 I and to always.

I'm i been Annie can entry unknown out fucking only do it.

Jack Jour for tonight you a blink I my could stressed busy.

The results above were more deliciously surprising than expected.  Hence, my poem for the day:

I make
entry unknown
out fucking
only do it:
tonight you
a blink.

...a reprint from 7/17 to refocus my spirit:

Now for the main event.  My thinking about the ethical life lately has simplified into a single commencing outlook or preparatory departure.  To the extent that one must assume the role of warrior in the course of life, the proper attitude is, first, one of discovery.  Set out to discover the world with as little prejudicial pre-instruction as possible.  This sense or disposition toward discovery is essentially the quintessential characteristic of the authentic tourist.  Thus the warrior is, first and foremost, a tourist.  But he, she is a wild tourist and never enwrapped by the traps of consumerism.  He or she sees like the enlightened bear that goes over the mountain (i.e.,...The bear goes over the mountain, the bear goes over the mountain, the bear goes over the mountain...to see what it can see.  And all that it can see, all that it can see...is a novel  apprehension of reality, a novel apprehension of totality, a genuine rendition of infinity...is all that it can see....)

 So the warrior-tourist goes about doing his, her best at taking the whole world in, and concurrently, either 1) enjoying it fully, or 2) challenging it awfully with the roar of embattled engagement.  Now the warrior’s act of enjoyment or engagement may seem to an observer as a response--the product of a calculation employing a set of  personal decision rules.  But this is really not the case at all.  Quite otherwise, this enjoyment or engagement is an organic outgrowth of his, of her initial disposition towards prime apprehension of the world.  If there is thought attendant to this process, and there often is but not invariably, it is typically not studied and tortured, but guiding and informative.  It is not the instance of finding oneself at a fork in a road (a la Robert Frost) and pausing to decide one way...or the other.  Rather, attention to the moment leads the warrior invariably onwards upon the trail blazed for his, for her destiny and the joy or engagement that ensues is merely the appropriate interpenetration of the warrior’s will with the way of the world as it is manifested. 

To see...and see...and see: the spectacle of life fully for whatever it is.  And to do so joyfully or engagingly.  

So here's an example of this from my own life, and perhaps you'll laugh for the humor intrinsic in the situation, but I think it exemplifies the attitude which I'm here attempting to depict:

A friend of mine and I were at a baseball game and between innings we decided to leave our seats and go to the beer stand to get another beer.  As we turned away from the field and down the rampway under the stands, my friend nudged me to turn back around and behold three utterly cute chicks standing two feet away at the precipe rail to the field, stretching and waving, backs turned to us.  They were up on their toes, and with hourglass bodies and booty-tight shorts, they were pure oozing paradigms of nervous sexuality.  I first looked at my friend's eyes as he visually drilled them from head to toe.  I then looked to them and beheld what he beheld and lusted for,  but...there was something in their bodies' energies-- a wiggle, a dance, what?  In unison their arms reached up, a baseball zoomed above their reach, and... 

My friend never saw it coming.  Well he saw it, but because he was in a stimulus-response mode, he was too late.  The ball was heading square for his nose, two inches, one inch away.  He flinched from the expected impact, but there was none.

As I was predisposed both to the enjoyment of wiggling butts and an understanding of how they danced in that world, I engaged the moment thoughtlessly.  Even as I was thrilled by the sight, my hand snatched the ball from in front of my friend's nose with the back of my hand just brushing his nose.  Had I made a conscious decision to act so?  Hell no.  Was it merely a reaction to the sight of the flying ball?  Two feet away, I never would have had time to so react successfully.  I had felt the lightning before it struck, I was predisposed, and my hand snatched without an instruction from my mind.  My friend was as unbelieving as I was unthinking: I had saved him a broken nose.

Oh yes, I was quick.  Jackie Chan quick.  In hindsight, I snatched for the wrong thang, but that's another story! 

And, oh, the ball?  David Justice threw it from the outfield in response to the girls' attention to him between innings.

Damn!  What a sight!  What a moment!  And my friend, needless to say, bought the beers!

Tonight I lost total touch with a true soulmate.

The implications of which, among other unsayable things, are that an apparently true lover--other than that soulmate (of course, isn't the world strange?)...

2+ months into Terror War I ...and the flags are already in tatters!  Everywhere you look: threads.

Of course, I'm referring here in America to the flags "newly" displayed from cars, trucks, busses and motorcycles.  The winds of war have wrought a rapid ravage upon them in about as much time as one could run comfortably a la Forrest Gump from east coast to west.  Imagine if this war wears on as the President and others suggest...for 5 or 10 years!!  The country will be replete with vehicles bearing flag-rags indistinguishable from a really kinky girl's torn pair of panties.  Hey, I wonder if homespun panties on the end of my antenna would hold up better against highway hurricanes  than my made-in-Taiwan Stars and Stripes??!!

But don't laugh--perhaps we're looking at this all wrong.  I'm thinking that in years to come, displaying a tattered flag will be as rogue as fashioning pre-worn jeans and threadbare baseball caps in swank party situations on sultry saturday nights.  Could be in a year or so vendors will start marketing pre-worn Old Glories to peeps who want to make the statement that they've been anti-terror patriots from the very tragical 911-start. 

Yeah...*when Johnny comes speeding home again, hurrah, hurrah...*

Hrmmm...edible flag panties...now there's a perishable proposition!

...And my 15,000 eProp (no brag, just fact--count them in the profile pic on the left ) was bestowed today by none other than...

*drumroll please*

ahanna

ahanna--my very own sister!

Now her content is worth 15,000 times more than anything found here lately!  Mwuahahahaa 

Announcing a Major New Initiative…

After this past week’s foreboding tumult in accessing our community, it is clear, I believe, to all  of us that something drastic needs to be done to save The Xanga !!

Pursuant to that, I am here announcing the vital creation of an continuing proposal adjunct to the XangaTeam’s intent to fix things this week with more bandwidth and possibly a new network provider.  Yes, the XangaTeam’s effort is critical—for without it all is lost.  But even if access returns to normal, if the community is to continue to thrive and grow, more must be done to bolster interactive enthusiasms and the prospects for revenue.

Hence, The Save The Xanga Foundation is hereby created in a spirit of ardent lust to save The Xanga in all of its forms and expressions (only a few of the myriad of which-Xanga, the lost kingdom; Xanga, the Bushman hunter have even yet been discovered ) throughout the world—and beyond. 

Though serving primarily as a locus of chauvinistic cheerleading, this Foundation, nevertheless, is hell-bent on achieving pragmatic results.  Thus, reviving my self-taught swordsmanship skills with the foil and epee, I swash my buckle and reveal:

The Thrust

Using Xanga’s Visit A Random Site link, I determined (last week—prior to the most recent chronic outages) from a "random" sample of 31 sites that the “average site” is virtually unread (mode of 0 eProps, median of 1 eProp, mean of 1.6 eProps—see statistical tables below).  The practical conclusion from this is that many of our fellow bloggers are “out there” is an essentially ePropless vacuum suffocating for want of an atmosphere of interaction.  These fellow Xangeroos, indeed, constitute the Mass of the Unpropped—a countless horde of hungry bloggers who tend to fade quickly and forever from Xangaland without a sign of at least one or two manna-props falling from the heavens.  To bring the UnPropped (and UnderPropped) into the mainstream of interaction, my Thrust will be called: “Propping the UnderPropped while Pimping My Proppers.”   For every conferral of Props upon one of my blogs, I will, besides making a better effort to just return the favor, visit a random unPropped  or UnderPropped site, prop them, and there leave a link to my specific Propper (you) for them to visit (your site) in a spirit of engendering community.

The Lunge

Bianca.  The prospect of that fair maiden has haunted me ever since her first soliciting hint at a xangan tryst!  Now, more than ever, we need her.  Yet she was martyred brutally to satiate litigative threats and as an obeisance to lawyers’ bulging midriffs.  Oh my…  Oh my…

So like a warrior upon the battlefield I hereby pick up her banner

and declare myself the New Bianca!   Yes!   I intend to co-opt the list of addressees from spammed smut letters I receive and redirect to these at-large future Xangeroos an irresistable appeal to join our community.  While I haven’t yet determined the exact content of this appeal, it will definitely make reference to the Naughty Girls of Xanga (yes, naughty—all of you!)

The Parry

This notion is in a very formative stage, but what I suggest is that given:

1) toreibjo’s eventual ongoing direness in persisting online, and
2) toreibjo’s stunning success in securing his immediate continuance online through a community auction,

that the XangaTeam furnish toreibjo with perpetual access (DSL if possible) in turn for which he will conduct future monthly auctions with the preponderance of proceeds going to purchase year-long Premium Memberships, “Pro” Personal URLs, or other promotional items to be awarded possibly by contest.

Now, I haven’t discussed this at all with toreibjo, or the XangaTeam or anyone except Anonymiss yet, so though you could sit back and poke clever holes in the concept, I’d invite you instead to brainstorm and transform this notion into a most practical parry to lack-of-revenue threats!

Okay…now for those of you fascinated by statistics ( why did all my students just stop reading this??), here’s the results of my random sample mentioned above:

 EPROPS—the number of eProps accorded to the most recent blog

 Valid cases:        31.0 

 Mean        1.5806  Std Err      .4194  Min          .0000  Skewness    2.0744
 Median      1.0000  Variance    5.4516  Max        10.0000  S E Skew     .4205
 5% Trim     1.2796  Std Dev     2.3349  Range      10.0000  Kurtosis    4.8338
 95% CI for Mean (.7242, 2.4371)         IQR         2.0000  S E Kurt     .8208

DAYSAGO—the number of days before “today” (i.e., when I sampled) that the "most recent" blog was written

 Valid cases:        31.0  

 Mean       10.2903  Std Err     2.1418  Min          .0000  Skewness    1.5878
 Median      5.0000  Variance  142.2129  Max        41.0000  S E Skew     .4205
 5% Trim     9.1756  Std Dev    11.9253  Range      41.0000  Kurtosis    1.4386
 95% CI for Mean (5.9161, 14.6646)       IQR        10.0000  S E Kurt     .8208

P.S.  As evidence of my thrusting, here are paybacks of my "prop-pimping"...

At Ditto-Jessie's site:

At pistolpete's site:

*looks at notforprophet's Xanga site*

wow.  I feel like a stranger here since I haven't been able to access it since my last post even to read comments.

*considers the dearth of comments and eProps*

Apparently, only 10 bloggers were able to post all day today between 7:46 a.m. and 3:23 p.m.--with nobody at all between about 12:30 and 3:00 p.m.!!

*regrets having tried at least 100 times today to get on--it's a lottery and I lost!*

But what's this?   From 3:23 pm onwards today it seems that traffic just erupted back to normal.  Yet I personally wasn't able to get back on until 4:20.  Perhaps the Xanga outages have different impacts on different regions and networking segments.

So what's the good news? 

My blood pressure has remained down: 116 over 67                              and

My kitten Hawk has recovered a huge amount of his joyous bubbling kitty-energy lately.  He's even giving me love nibbles again!                                       and

With no Xanga last night either, I ran a midnight run, in shorts and a T-shirt--it was warm enough even here on the verge of winter!

So...How are you spending your abundant newfound leisure time now as Xanga suffers rebirthing pangs??

i will never live in a cave
i will never die in my grave
for i will force my heart to be brave
and seek all that my soul so craves

she’s so vital and willing
*or so i think*
i become her killing
with every *wink*

but did i see her *wink* ?
or did i merely blink??

are we PC?
politically correct? no.
potential couple? so…
if she’s software, i’m hard?
do i install in her or does she install on me?
what friction attends such viscosity?

but sex is not a metaphor
meta for
meant for
for me?

fuck reality-
it’s so anal
o gee.

What your are experiencing is a weaning process.

Finally, the time has come to rest.

Approximately a year or so ago, Xanga was launched as a scientific venture in the creation of community. Conceived at Yale University in the Anthropology Dept. as an experiment in seeding resident interactions in a cyber milieu, the hope was that Xanga would enhance upon the newly-sprung weblog metaphor to forge meaningful, recurrent relationships palpably at the creative/literary level yet more foundationally as a sociological cyber-settlement. Pursuant to that end, various experimental techniques (the Bianca Effect, modulated time horizons for determining the effective half-life of eProps, etc.) were employed in what was envisioned as a fairly-controlled environment to measure the efficacy of test stimuli gauged to engender a reward response and their contribution to community-building.

Unfortunately unseen at the startup was the extent and degree to which the particular stimuli employed (eProps, Comments, Featured Content list) would create a measurable addictive response amidst the cohort of unware blogging participants. However, once the community surged beyond a rambling nascency and began to collude with a recognizable sociological hierarchy and processed niche-creation and entrechment, the devastingly addictive effect of blogging under the "propping rules" here instituted became apparent.

Fearing an experiment upon human subjects gone dangerously awry, Yale University then employed my services as a clinical Jungian psychotherapist and cyber-aficionado to first study, evaluate, and then make recommendations for the alleviation of the human suffering entailed by the onset of numinous addiction to blogging by a large segment of the Xangan society.

Copious statistics and case studies over the past year (including my own carefully devised interaction with you as a "blogger") led me to the conclusion that an experimental intervention was necessary in order to mitigate the addictive behavior and ease affected participants back into a more normal life pattern. While the Anthropology Dept.’s first inclination was simply to terminate the experiment, I insisted that such would only serve to traumatize the addicted and lead them to transfer their unmet craving to, perhaps, even more self-destructive and unforseen outlets. With all responsible parties deferring to my expertise, my vision has prevailed.

Therefore, in conjunction with the Anthropology Dept. of Yale (the XangaTeam) a step-down has now been devised that is believed to be pragmatically effectual in allaying Xangaddiction…

Please excuse our recurring network outages-we are only trying to cure you!!!

War, romantically interpreted:

To know deep in your heart that you really need love,

But to live life at the loveless surface thinking you already have all that you need.

Got my laptop TFT (thin-film transitor--what some of you may still call LCD) panel replaced today for the fourth time in the last 15 months--under warranty!!  I don't know what the hell always goes wrong with it.  I mean I don't drop it or abuse it and it was shielded pretty well in my Targus laptop backback  as I was tripping on gravestones and hopping cemetery fences with it back on Halloween.

I'm perplexed.  Why do girls dance naked?  Do they really dance better that way?

Speaking of perplexities, I don't understand: If our President wants us to lead our lives as if normal--as before, does that mean we should just simply ignore most of what he and other politicians have to say these days--as before? 

Doctor, heal thyself!

Since the Sep 11 outrage, probably not as a coincidence but as a correlative, my blood pressure has been out of (my) sight. Where normally I had registered at 115 over 75 with a pulse of 52, I found myself pegged at a near constant 170 over 100 with a pulse of 75. So, of course, I was damned concerned. Did I see a doctor? No. And the reason why is because a voice inside me said heal thyself…relax…and heal.

So this week I decided seriously to heed that voice and severely curtailed my blogging and online chatting in order to get more sleep. Where I had typically stayed up before to 2 or 3 in the morning while turning it around to get up again at 6:30 in the a.m., I started going to bed early…oh pleasant rest!

Also, and this may seem contraindicated physiologically, I’ve been making a little ritual out of drinking more than I need to just satisfy a thirst. Yes, alcohol will somewhat elevate the bp (and diminish one’s sexual prowess) but, I figured, that if at the root of the budding hypertension was a need to diminish stress and just relax, a few shots, a few more shots, a few more shots…might help.

And apparently, my indulgences were just what the doctor ordered. Cause last night, my bp was back down to 136 over 84 with a pulse of 58. So I guess yet more sleep and a few more strategically-enjoyed drinks should set me right soon. Self-pampering-now that’s a new concept to me LOL

Rx: Red Headed Stepchild: 1 shot Jagermeister dropped into a glass of Red Bull-tastes just like Cherokee Red soda!!! Get to bed by 11 PM.

A warrior is always skeptical of a war.  Why?  Because a war’s outbreak either indicates that the warrior has failed to maintain peace-which is the warrior’s one true goal-and that such a failure, while not inconceivable, is soul-shattering…or…that a war has been conjured up by politicians conniving to undermine the peace to promote themselves with the understanding that

War is nothing but a continuation of politics with the admixture of other means.

                 --Karl von Clauswitz (I read this when I was 10 years old!  Clauswitz, btw, was the military strategist sine qua non of the 19th and early 20th centuries.)

And a warrior is always skeptical of politics!

So in this spirit of uncensored skepticism- I ask: what are the possibilities?

Terrorist War I broke out because of a mortally-striking external enemy (the worldwide network of terrorism) which our finest warriors failed to anticipate, detect, and defend against?

Terrorist War I broke out because of conspiratorial political control freaks maniacally contriving a WTC “Reichstag fire” (the Reichstag fire, secretly set by the Nazis, enabled them to create a boogey-external enemy and thus engender in Germany the social opportunity to seize the country with an authoritarian hand).   To what end?  To abridge our freedoms through pre-meditated  waves of subsequent “security restrictions”?

Did the same “terrorists” who struck in New York launch what Pres. Bush calls the “second wave” of terrorism-the anthrax attacks?  Why have these attacks been so limited and inefficacious?  Why wouldn’t the terrorists wait until the flu season hit to maximize the effect of an anthrax attack by cloaking it with our typically raging flu epidemics? 

Would terrorists really want to attack bridges?  Why?  As military targets?  To inflict mass killings?  If so, why station troops on the bridge in harm’s way and make it an even more attractive target-why not just mount cameras for observation?  Also, why not limit traffic to one car every 100 feet, or so, so that if the bridge would blow, there’d be no congestion and major loss of life? (That’s why troops deployed in the filed “spread out” instead of marching in tight formations.) (BTW, the FBI has determined after a week that the source of this information is no longer credible-though originally they themselves launched the warning!)

If ‘terrorists” are about to strike at military installations, as is now suggested by “credible but unspecific sources” according to the FBI, is it really “terrorism”?  We’ve declared a war-if our military is attacked, isn’t that warfare and not terrorism?  If military installations during a war are attacked by civilians, isn’t that “sabotage” and/or “espionage”-but not terrorism?

Are there any nuts or organizations out there who might stage their own renegade  “terrorist attacks” if more genuine Al Qaeda-type attacks are not soon forthcoming simply to keep the public fomented and its tolerance of tighter personal freedom restrictions high? 

Understanding that at least 20% of all chicken that comes to market in the U.S. is tainted by salmonella and that salmonella infections in the U.S. run at 1.4 million a year with at least 600 documented deaths, should we not be investigating the possibility that “terrorists” have cornered the chicken market?  After all, are not terrorists chicken themselves??

Do you have any idea how many kids are terrorized by having to sit in Santa’s lap every Xmas?  Santas that this year that will bear an eerie resemblance (in many children’s eyes) to Osama the has-bin himself?  Will parents remain unwitting dupes in the perpetuation of this trauma?  Will Santa crash his sleigh into the Sears Tower taking all the kiddies’ gifts with him or will jets scramble to shoot him down first?

In a recent communication, toreibjo referred to Osama (has)-bin Laden's religious fanaticism as Oslam -- and I thought that was darkly hilarious, yet critically insightful.  For while (has)-bin condemns all Jews and Christians as *infidels* (as his fanatical saying goes..."First comes Saturday, then Sunday." ...Meaning strike at the Jews first --Sabbath on Saturday-- and then the Christians --worship on Sunday), the Qur'an itself not only suggests an overlap and commingling of faiths, but even recognizes Jesus as one of the 25 Great Prophets:

monsur left as a comment on my last post a reference to a post of his own which I here reprint as a community service:

Its days like this that really make me love what I'm doing here at Xanga. Recently many of you have noticed network problems with Xanga; in order to alleviate the issue, Dan and I implemented the following:

• Lowering the number of posts displayed per page
  
• Changing the way the archive calendar is implemented
  
• Making the pages "tighter", ie removing extra white spaces in HTML, etc...

Though they sound innocuous, these changes actually lead to a 40% reduction in page size (mostly due to the number of posts per page), making for faster downloads for you and less bandwidth constraints for us. Woo hoo!

And though they sound innocuous, these changes weren't easy. I spent almost six hours today perusing our most heavily trafficked pages, line by line, and reformatted the HTML to remove any extraneous characters and refactor some code; its a very looooooong and tedious process.

This is indicative of the work that goes on here every day, though it isn't always apparent to you guys. Personally, I prefer to keep this work behind the scenes, quietly improving Xanga while using my own Xanga site as a personal creative outlet. Xanga is all about community, and I enjoy participating in the community as just another user, rather than as one of the "gods". But with all the recent negativity directed towards us, its really hard to keep quiet.

We are a few people with a DSL; we're trying really hard to make do with our resources. If you take the time to peruse the site, you'll discover we've built an enormous number of features, to create what we believe is the best blog community on the web. Sure we have our problems, everyone does. But with your patience and support, we are committed to growing this site and quietly eliminating these issues. A little support goes a long way towards letting us know that what we are doing is appreciated.

And personally, I'll try to keep you updated about what's going on here; I really don't blog as much as I should anyway I'm really excited about what we are doing here at Xanga; I hope you are too.

Actually, before reading this, I saw lcsaph today who told me about the shortened pages (5 posts) she had noticed and I suggested to her that it was likely an effort to reduce bandwidth usage.  So you see, monsur, john, and dan, some of us are aware and sensitive to such matters!

Message while trying to log on 5 minutes ago...

The Xanga.com website is too busy! Please try again back during off peak hours (12AM-11AM EST).

Please do not reload! It makes the situation worse!

Click. Click. Click.

hrmm....

This past week has been an expanse of extremes.  Perhaps I took on too much.  Perhaps too much was put upon me.  The overall effect felt like a sortie on the surface of Jupiter with a mandate to practice for the Olympic high jump.  And that’s not strange, seeing that Olympus was the home of the gods and Jupiter/Zeus was king of the castle and high-jumping is akin to ladder-climbing which is akin to staircasing to heaven which is akin to Jack climbing the beanstalk.  Yes—that’s it!  I’ve been climbing beanstalks!   And what did I find?  A Giant, of course.  A ferocious, arrogant, commanding, feeding, consuming, indulgent Giant—a Jovian Giant, gadzooks! (god-zeus?)

But it turns out that the beanstalk I was climbing was on one level  my own spinal cord.  And the land of the Giant was the expanse of my limbic system—the reptilian and primitive mammalian brains.  And my own little climbing Jack-self was a pittance of intelligence—the neocortex—bringing light to this gargantuan castle perched upon high.  Except the Giant I encountered this time wasn’t a dumb stupid brute, but a clever one with  a plan.  So instead of fee-fieing, he indulged me by lying and promising me magnificences that would crush me with seductive opulence instead: the world on a mountain high platter! (plateau?)  Otherwise known as: sex, drugs, and rock-n-roll!

Oh-oh—oh-ohh!  I forgot to steal the hen that lays the golden eggs.  Damn.  I knew I had forgotten something…

*puts on headphones, listening to Gentle Giant …
”My thoughts never spoken only the
visions inside my head the truth never broken
within my silent words left unsaid…” *

or

(pick one)

Be right back...

Well, besides one prior paltry blog and one comment to a katiest, this is all I've written today...the least all year..that's how desolate I feel...how drained...I need to revitalize and tap into some inspirational pools of wondrous life-quenching nectar now soon--again....

Where does time go? 

So numerous are the un-named matters that have become cloaked by its disappearance. 

The walls of the halls leading to the door of this living, breathing, wide-awake dreaming perception are wobbling and shuddering under the burden of all that's yet undone.

So treasure every moment.

Got a dream?  H-o-l-d----o-n----

China?, Jordan?

Two countries of enticing countenance? 

But Anonamiss thrown in?!  Got to love her, their conjoined geography!  Imagine the most unharsh succulence of moon-kissed seductive, exciting enticements .  What you got is three tripping chicks on Ecstasy, on ebony, on ivory, on weed.

Where do I fit in?  Fit--that's a trip!  Though I busted my ass today all day laying Cat-5 plenum (that's cyber infrastructure, pals!)

I see three sisters, I dream their love. I dream. 

FRYday Night

Tripping nerve-wracked,
Dreams shutting-down.

Living only in my own skull
And body once again.

...She was hot and gorgeous
With flashing blue eyes
That engaged unequivocally
But for too brief moment.
Bluntly I positioned myself aside,
Leaned over to her
At the bar and said:
"Women are fucking-nuts."
She smiled and replied
In a half-naughty tone:
"So are you one of the nuts they're fucking?"

And then I woke up in bed.

Meet Xanga, a Bushman hunter from Namibia. 

Imagine how he must feel if he has even an eek of psychic intuition and gets even the faintest intimation of all the psychic sentiment we pour out daily--*I love Xanga!* *I need Xanga!* *I can't live without Xanga!*

If we ever all do meet in Xanga, Angola, I think we should sponsor our good buddy here to be the parade marshal and make things even curiouser and curiouser.