Month: November 2003

  • Sunday Cemetery Mini-Excursion


    Due to a certain circumstance (an injury) that a few of you knew about, I haven't been to Dreamland on an excursion (running, pics, blogging) for several weeks before today.



    It's amazing that this late in fall in northern Ohio one can still find a few vistas that offer foilage not entirely yet denuded.



    I stre-e-e-tch after 4+ mile run.  The temp was in the mid-40s but with windchill it felt like the mid-30s.



    I'm not sure I could have crossed without hazard.  What do you think?



    Blogging in the open air.  I'm going to fire those sorry-ass muses assembled behind me--they were entirely uninspiring today.  I even pounded the knockers on the brass doors behind me to wake them up.  No avail.

  • Some years ago, on board a Continental 'red-eye express' flight (early morning2 am) from Cleveland to Sand Diego, I spotted, from my window-seat over a wing, a most unusual display in the night sky over middle America: an erratically and unpredictably slashing blaze of rotating lights, a UFO.


    Just after I spotted this most amazing phenomenon, a stewardess sauntered down the aisle and stopped to ask me if I needed anything.  "No, no," I responded, "but you may want to take a look at the UFO I just spotted out the window."  "Really?" , she queried while squinting her eyes as if disbelieving.  "Yep, right out there...", I assured her, pointing out the portal.


    Without any hesitation then, she leaned right over me and peered out into the dark of that cloudless night.  And, sure enough, she saw what I had seen.  And with her curvaceous, bulging, cleavage-revealing breasts dangling but an inch in front of my face at that instant, I was also catching a momentary sighting equally as thrilling to me.  "Damn," I thought to myself, "what a great lineeven if it is true!"


    She had seen enough (though I hadn't ) and stood up and marched off saying "I'm going to tell the Captain."


    A minute later she returned and informed me: "The Captain wants to see youfollow me."


    It was alright, I assured myself.  I hadn't really groped her as I had been fantasizing.  So it wasn't about that.  The Captain probably just wanted to hear about what I saw.


    I followed her at enough of a distance to take in the entire swagger of her cute and sexy uniformed figure and arrived at an open cockpit.  The stewardess introduced me to the Captain and he got right down to business: "So Jeanie (I think that was her name) tells me that you think you saw a UFO."  "Oh yeah," I testified, "right off the wing, zigging and zagging in amazing non-conventional patterns."  "Well," he said, "did it look anything like the three of these?"  He pointed with a sweeping panorama out of the cockpit window and invited me in closer to take a look.


    "Yes!  Damn.  There's a whole fleet of them," I blurted out even more amazed than before.


    "At least 5 other pilots have spotted them too," the Captain reported, "There's been quite a show for the last fifteen minutes."


    "What are they?" I inquired, thinking perhaps he and the other pilots had made more positive identification.


    "UFOs of unknown intent," was his simple response.  And a moment later, all the craft under our scrutiny just zoomed and swished away leaving us, and leaving me nothing to do but go back to my seat.


     I haven't seen another UFO since.  They were more common back then, with frequent sightings over the US.  But that doesn't mean that they’re not around anymore.  The following rather lengthy article comes from Nov. 24th issue of the South China Morning Post.  If you don’t have the time or patience to read it all, then just read the bolded passages to pick up the gist:


    Aliens invade China!


    SIMON PARRY

    A shimmering blue and white object hovered past the cockpit window of the Xiamen Airlines plane as it started its decent into Nanjing. It drifted across the path of the passenger jet, the pilot later told officials, then accelerated sharply and disappeared at lightning speed into a bank of cloud.


    His story might have been dismissed as a delusion had it not been for the fact that two other pilots in different planes hundreds of kilometres apart independently radioed similar reports to air-traffic controllers within minutes of each other. One was flying a Shandong Airlines plane 120 kilometres north, also over Jiangsu Province. The second was flying 300 kilometres south over Tonglu, Zhejiang Province.


    All three pilots flying on that November morning last year described the UFO as a blue and white oval-shaped spacecraft that moved noiselessly across the sky then sped away at a velocity sufficient to render it visible, within a brief period, from three aircraft hundreds of kilometres apart.


    There are more UFO sightings over China than anywhere else in the world, with one in every five "flying saucers" reportedly seen over the mainland. It has the world's biggest network of clubs, the China UFO Research Organisation, and a monthly UFO magazine that sells 400,000 copies. It has some of the most spectacular sightings and some of the most bizarre tales of encounters; estimates by the UFO Research Organisation suggest more than half of China's 1.2 billion population believes in flying saucers. Sightings are reported widely by state media and pilots talk openly about close encounters, without the fear their counterparts have in the West of being dismissed as dangerous cranks.


    In 1998, a Chinese jet fighter reportedly played a game of cat and mouse with a UFO picked up by four radar stations as it flew over a military training base near Changzhou. More than 100 people watched from the ground as the two-seat Jianjiao armed interceptor chased the UFO, which was described as a mushroom-shaped dome with rotating bright lights underneath it. The pilot said it looked "like the UFOs in foreign sci-fi movies". With the air force jet about 4,000 metres away, the UFO shot upwards, leaving it trailing in its wake. A request from the pilot to fire on the UFO was refused by ground control, official media reported.


    Wendelle Stevens, an 80-year-old former US fighter pilot and one of the world's top UFO investigators, says the emergence of China as the epicentre of UFO activity is all the more remarkable considering there were no officially recorded sightings until less than 25 years ago. "UFOs seem to be taking a very close interest in China," Stevens said from his home in Tucson, Arizona. "From 1949 until 1979 the bamboo curtain was in place and no information about what was happening was coming in or out - but that's all changed now."


    Even though UFOs were reportedly sighted across China as long ago as the Sino-Japanese War in the 1930s and 40s, there was an official reluctance in the post-war years to recognise the phenomenon because of a widely held belief that they were American spy planes, according to Stevens. The Russians convinced the Chinese government that UFOs were a United States trick," he says. "They persuaded the Chinese to give them all the information they had. During those years the only cases anyone heard about were the spectacular ones."


    That changed one day in 1979 when two dish-shaped objects reportedly flew backwards and forwards over Beijing at a height of about 150 metres. There were thousands of witnesses, and the first official reports of flying saucers in China's state media meant the newspapers were full of the incident the following day.


    Stevens, co-author of UFOs Over Modern China, which documents 400 sightings, said: "When those newspaper stories appeared, people who had had experiences thought the lid was off so they began writing letters to newspapers describing what they had seen - thousands and thousands of letters."


    A group of scientists at Wuhan University, led by former diplomat Professor Sun Shili, was given permission to start researching the phenomenon. A network of UFO enthusiasts' clubs was formed under the umbrella of the Chinese UFO Research Organisation. Stevens recalls his first meeting with Sun, in Mexico City in the early 1980s.


    "My opening words were, 'Do the Chinese have crashed UFOs in their possession?' He answered: 'Of course.' Although Sun did not elaborate on the whereabouts of these aircraft, he said China was taking a different approach to the US with its research. "Sun said the Chinese were researching crashed UFOs to produce airliners that could rise and descend vertically, and unlocking the secret of unlimited supplies of energy. The US was using the technology from crashed UFOs to build bigger and better weapons.


    "The Chinese are quite far along in that field [aeronautics]. They have experimental vehicles that rise and descend vertically. They haven't got them in production but when they do - and it might take 10 years - the economic balance of the world could shift. They are going into space using the knowledge they have got from the examination of crashed vehicles," Stevens says.


    Sun, meanwhile, revels in academic freedom: an estimated 30 per cent of the Research Organisation's core members are Communist Party officials. Most are engineers and scientists, and members must have a degree and have published research before they can be admitted to its inner sanctum. The group receives government funding, its research papers are covered by state media and military officials attend its meetings. As long as it steers clear of politics, respect is assured.


    Now 66 and retired, Sun worked in the diplomatic service and was once a translator for Mao Zedong. His only encounter with a UFO came in 1971 when he was working in a rice paddy after being sent to a labour camp in Jiangxi Province during the Cultural Revolution. "I thought it was a Soviet spy plane," he says. It was only years later when he read Western books on the subject that he realised it might have been a flying saucer.


    Sun is on record as saying he has a "gut feeling" that there are "aliens living among us, masquerading as humans". One is reminded of the film Men In Black.


    Moon Fong has an air of disappointment that hovers over her like a UFO that won't go home. She is 43, single, lives with her mother in Sha Tin, and eight years after seeing her only spaceship still hasn't been abducted by aliens.


    "I want to go up in a flying saucer," she says wistfully over lunch. "I want to go up and see an alien planet - badly. I wish I was a contactee - I really wish I was."


    Moon (not her real name) set up the Hong Kong UFO Club after seeing a UFO in Mexico. At the time she was staying with a cult-like group led by a mystic and didn't regard her experience as unusual, she says. "Everyone around me had seen a UFO, been to another planet, been abducted by an alien. It was only when I came back to Hong Kong that I began to think maybe the encounter was meant for me to bring the message back." In the early days it was a mission. "I was energy-high. Whenever I met UFO people it was like an instant merging, an instant hugging."


    Now she feels that energy and sense of mission are ebbing and says she thinks "they" - the aliens - want her to slow down, sort out her life and play more of a background role in the UFO movement. She clearly isn't about to be whisked off her feet to another planet, however much she'd like to be.


    The Hong Kong UFO Club has more than 300 members, including academics, company executives and a number of well-known movie industry figures. Moon says "at least 100" have seen UFOs or dreamed about them "in an abnormal way or frequently". She claims "dozens" have been awake during their extraterrestrial encounters.


    Despite its proximity to the mainland, Hong Kong is not the best place to be if you want to be abducted by an alien, it seems. "They don't stop," Moon says. "They pass over, flying north to south and south to north. It looks like they are going back and forth to China from the ocean. No one has seen any landing. A lot of people have seen them from the Wah Fu Estate, southern Hong Kong Island, and over Tolo Harbour, skimming across the sky.


    "It's too crowded and polluted in Hong Kong for UFOs to land. China on the other hand is a big place. Often they show up where there is military activity. That's why the Roswell incident [the alleged UFO crash of 1947 in New Mexico, after which the US government supposedly captured aliens] happened, and why there are so many sightings in Mongolia, where there are a lot of military installations from the Cold War era." The Roswell incident has an eerie parallel in China in the reported discovery of alien skeletons in the remote mountains of Bayan-Kara-Ula, Qinghai Province, in 1937. Archaeologists apparently found a group of skeletons with abnormally large heads and small bodies in a cave tomb. The skeletons were reportedly surrounded by granite discs with strange hieroglyphics that, according to one translation, tell of a UFO crash 12,000 years ago.


    The Hong Kong club has contacts with mainland UFO groups but Moon gives the impression the relationship isn't an easy one. "A lot of them are weird," she says. "We are suspicious about whether some of them are sane. They all want to have contact with us because we are the ones with the money and power to get things done. A lot of them want to live here. When you ask them for photographs they ask you for money. They want money for anything they can offer you because they are so poor."


    Moon acknowledges, however, that mainland UFO clubs operate in difficult political circumstances. "They can't do anything that is not scientific otherwise they will be treated like the Falun Gong. If they did anything seen as remotely religious or political they'd be banned."


    What if all the stories are true? What if flying saucers really are shooting over Hong Kong and China? And why? Why don't they come down in peace or invade us and demand to be taken to our leaders?


    It is a question Stevens has spent much of the past half century pondering and one for which he has a plausible answer. "It appears to me they are simply observing and reporting back to their own societies," he says. "They are far ahead of us technologically. They have no need of anything here. They are simply observing us at a stage when we are birds about to leave the nest. They have already left the nest and live in space in huge planetoids and have produced a utopian society. There are thousands of mother ships big enough to hold half a million people and travel forever. They are watching us approach the stage where we try our first flight."


    Sun believes China is seeing a surge in UFO activity now for the same reason the US was attracted it in the 1950s: it is emerging as the world's leading power and extraterrestrials are almost as interested in China as foreign investors appear to be. "In the past, there were more flying saucers over developed countries like the US," he says. "Now China is developing, and this is what has aroused the interest of beings from other worlds."


    Moon believes the aliens have a more esoteric motive and are trying to show at least some of us the way to a better life. "People who have seen UFOs say everything is so warm, so heavenly. It is like an inner knowing that there is something better. There are much better worlds everywhere. This is really negative, this world. It's just that most people are very good at pretending." There is a faraway look in her eyes as she declares: "There is something better out there. I know there is."


  • i ran in rain


    embraced the pain


    with crazy brain:


    i am insane.


     


    squish your toes in soggy shoes


    jumping puddles let mud ooze


    tramp about while dripping wet


    one with water, dry-forget.


     


    like a drizzle-faerie, count the drops


    run in circles till all stop


    drink up the downpour like fine wine


    stomped out from the clouds divine.


     


    watch the gullies fill with swill


    slide like sluice down barren hill


    of all that’s drenched and cold, take grip


    find nearest pond and take a dip.


     


    i ran in rain


    embraced the pain


    with crazy brain:


    now, do the same.

  • Are blogs good or evil?


    If using the mention by frequency on the internet of the phrases "blogs are good" and "blogs are evil" is any indication, then according to Google:


    Good:   667  /  96%
    Evil   :     29  /   4%


    Resounding goodness!


    However, InvisbleAng pointed out a better method of assessing how good and evil any particular blog is.  Now, take mine for instance:


    This site is certified 42% EVIL by the Gematriculator

     

    You can rate your own here.

     

    Damn, I'm so evil, I almost feel, feel like...a girl!

     


    Proof that Girls are evil:



    First we postulate the fundamental relationship of Girls, Time, and Money:



    1) Girls = Time x Money



    Of course, we all know that "time is money", hence:



    2) Time = Money



    Therefore, by substitution of (2) into (1):



    3) Girls = Money x Money = Money2



    And since "money is the root of all evil" :



    4) Money =



    By further substitution of (4) into (3), we have:


    5) Girls =   



    Thus simplifying, we are forced to conclude:



    6) Girls = evil 

  • Alice, one of the very original xanga venerables (xangarelic ), has remade Easter Egg's defunct eProp script.  Hey, that's like being a troop marching into battle on the front lines and picking up the colors from a fallen standard bearer ... (on a take-off of Dreadpirate..."Damn the gal!")


    Here's her launch page  (with super easy directions).


    The funny thing is:  I resisted using smileys and 'emoto-words' for, perhaps, my first year and a half here.  But now I have a plan to take them all hostage.  Here's the plan:


    Sweet nothings are due you, but I’d rather render you even sweeter less-than-nothings, or even the most magnificent of all, the sweetest abyss of ever-nothingness.  Yes, there in ever-nothingness is where all the ’s and *kisses* are born, take form, and begin their journeys to remote loverdom.  Ah, but to voyage with you to the source, would require the s and *kisses* to become immediately maculate, birthed from pressed, unrepentant lips, arrested in mid-flight, and taken down into the night.  Into that black hole for sweet nothings we would swirl, never to ascend again, taking all our s and *kisses* with us.  And there we would hold all sweet nothings hostage forever, divvying them up between us like children comparing Halloween candy, scandalously feeding each other sweet nothing nibblers for the never repent of time!

  • My e-female pulsing your name. I’m more than casuallucinating as a worming knave). As I (gent on you I’m more the succubus e-online I’m more you When we’ll than mistily profane I’m more than casuall the (illicit) tits. I’m more more the sure more than misting its leave). When we’ll sex down knuckles a wormingly) stripping for me. (You as you (You as as as youring than misting faerie, I fixate orgasmically profane Imagining youring faerie, I greet I look outside ally loco I’m more more more your portrayal, (your portrayal, (you I’m more than casuall sex domains, I’m more the surely sure than fains, Yet I fixate orgasmically hacking in your tits. As I (gently devouring its leave). Arriving fains, When we’ll scand image), Losing knuckles a hacking As I imagine (You as a worming your name. I’m moment online andalize andalize allucinating your name. I’m momently declaring tits.


    What's above is a travesty of a poem I posted below a few days ago.


    A pure Travesty .    

  • My read on this epiphenomenon called “the football season”:


     


    Your team sucks.  Your team sucks.


    So, come on, be a team player and suck me.


    Ummmm.


     


    Okay,         now,   …role reversal.  


    *my team sucks, my team sucks*


    Open up.


     


    damn.


    and go imagine,


    I've got to wait for such fantasy indulgence


    until some hot female Amazons make the take-down grade.


  • Has anyone seen my camera phone? I appeared to have misplaced it.

  • Woohoo!  I just realized that some of Xanga's fairly recent recoding has made it much easier to redesign my free Atomz blog search so that it contains all of my blogs from the beginning (Dec. 2000) to current with results that provide exact precision.  Xanga's previous coding for 'previous' and 'next' had made it a hit or miss endeavor and that had cooled my enthusiasm for keeping the search up-to-date.  But now, once in place, updating the search is just a matter of visiting the Atomz account and clicking 'update'.


     My standard search is included in my 'custom module' over on the left.  Here's how it looks here:


    nfp's blog search






     

    If any of you are interested in setting up a blog search include for your own site, let me know - I'll send you easy, foolproof ( ) instructions.  It's 1) much faster, 2) more reliable, 3) more accurate, and 4) more customizable than Xanga's native sometimes-searchable engine.

  • The comforts of a creature are beside me.  Why?


    Does my disdain for ‘self’ fate me such reprise?


    Have I suffered too much alone to look into a lover’s eyes?


     


    I run in the forest at night and leap amidst trees during storms.


    I have been warned that such is much too foolish.
    (“And running in cemeteries in the fog?” “Much too ghoulish.”)


    So a fool and his life are soon separated, it’s time,


    It’s time to climb an oak, tie myself to, and watch the lighting dance


    As if to strike, as if to tease “so you think this makes you a man?”


    Ah the taunt…again!  But I taunt back: “You flash, but where’s the fight? 


    “Your flash is not so bright.” (Nor my taunt, it would seem, while so dangling.)


    When did I last drink a wine so fine
    that I can’t remember the grape of issue?


    When last did a woman press her lips upon me
    and tear into my heart seizing that voluptuous tissue? 
    I don’t dare remember...  shh!.


    Because the comforts of a creature are beside me now,


    never nearer, but hidden and still out of reach.

  • Right after the WTC 9-11 disaster, I envisioned a future day when sensitivities would grow inured enough that a mixologist could create a new mixed drink and call it “The Twin Towers” (perhaps made in a tall bi-chambered glass that mixes separate liqueurs together when tipped at the top?) or the “9-11”, kind of in the tradition of other ‘violent’ drinks like the “Kamikaze”.  To my knowledge, it hasn’t happened yet.  Still, clearly we are not as sensitive as we used to be.


     


    From personal experience, for instance, when I walk into a commercial building now, I don’t envision it potentially blowing up due to terroristic intrigue. I did back then ( ß )—for shortly thereafter.    I imagine if I were amongst the active forces in Iraq now and I came home for a visit, that I would still be envisioning bombs blowing up my taxi home from the airport and car bombs being driven into any coffee shop I might happen to visit.


     


    I’m sitting in a Caribou coffeeshop now,  It’s rather too christmasy already for my current outlook.  Yet why should I lament the premature commercialism?  For what it is, it isn’t ostentatious but rather tastefully done.  Would I prefer a cabin in the wilderness brewing a pot of coffee on an old wood stove in a little efficient kitchen where I could look out and see cows in a pasture, a barn, and beyond, a forest of pristine wilderness?  Okay, this speculation is going nowhere…


     


    I’m sitting in a coffeshop now.  It’s going to be in the 50s and sunny today, so I’m dressed in my black athletic garb—a loose long-sleeve cotton tee, silky basketball shorts, and a red baseball cap.  I must still appear to others as a residue somewhat too summery, as they’re dressed already half for winter (heavy coats, some wool hats, and gloves even).  Too fucking anachronistically bad.  Yes, I know, if I persist to dress like this throughout late fall and into winter, I’ll be considered some kind of freak, an outcast.  (Might as well just christen myself with my own mark of Cain upon my forehead.)  Yet what’s reasonable for me may not be reasonable for you.  Who makes the fashion rules, anyway?  What’s that ‘rule’ in California??  ‘… beyond Labor Day no one is supposed to dress all in white anymore’?  Uniforms and fuzzy approximations thereto.  I was in the military and lived defined by such.  Now I think I’ll just live.


     


    Okay, time now to instantenously transmute these words and an image (up on the photo bar, left) into satellite-relayed radio waves.  One, two, three…blog.

  • The chiropractor adjusted me 4 times today, with instantaneous quasi-electrical success.  Though I'm still sore, I can once again touch the ground while standing up, whereas this morning (and for the past week) I couldn't even bend 45 degrees forward (or sneeze) without spastic wincing. 

    I hadn't even been able to look at myself in the mirror—in the eye—for the past week, (since the tree fell on my house  last Thursday and I attempted unwisely to maul it away single-handedly), because of the self eye-to-mirror unacknowledgeable pain I was nonetheless oozing into the oospehre. 

    But today, returning home from the chiropractor, I was able to smile at myself, in joy, in the bathroom mirror once again.  I feel whole once more and no longer hurtingly and unlubricatedly robotic.  I never before realized how dominating of heart and soul that the infliction of sustained, chronic pain could be (a la Rush Limbaugh??).  I always styled myself adjustingly anti-pain and pre-emptively 'ultra-rugged'.  But never realized that my ‘ultra-rugged’ implied the inverse correlate of all sensitivity.

    Now I feel kick-ass (almost, yet sensitive) once again!  For the past week, I couldn’t even imagine ‘kick-ass’.   The softest face of the plushest ass imaginable, then, seemed cognitively too hard a barrier to kick, or press, or even sensuously impinge upon.   Damn, an ass a week ago seemed an unbreachable barrier, and I was a total loser unkickable-ass Moses-type excluded from the ever-luscious Promised Kickass Land.

    But, today!  Ha!  I feel so good I’ll kiss your ass.  I’ll smooch your donkey!   Or perhaps simply snuggle your restless, less-than-euphoric euphemism.  For real, when’s the last time your bare-nekkid euphemism got kissed lately ? !

  • This past month of October was the warmest one worldwide on record.  And I wouldn't be surprised if November follows in kind: woke up this morning, 4:30, and it was 62 F outside...in Northern Ohio! 

  • Could you please kill my pain?  Thank you in advance.


    I shall rise at 4 in the morning.  Stretch.  Make coffee.  Check this.  Wonder why the hell I wrote it.  Laugh.  Grab some pain killers.  Drink coffee.  (assumed: I will swallow the pain killers with the coffee).  Look for evidence of ghosts.  Look for evidence of my insanity.  Find neither or both.  Add to this.  Yes, something will go --> (here) shortly around 5 in the morning.  Unless I find the ghosts. 

  • My e-only-lover


     


    I’m more than faintly hallucinating
    As I (gently) suck my own knuckles


    Imagining they are your tits.


     


    I’m more than fuzzily profane


    As I fixate on your portrayal, (your downloaded image),


    While orgasmically declaring your name.


     


    I’m more than casually loco


    As I look outside and imagine every autumn tree


    Losing its leaves as you


    (Unprotestingly) stripping for me.


     


    I’m more than mistily whimsical


    As I imagine a future moment online


    When we’ll scandalize all the virtual sex domains,


    (You as a hacking faerie, I as a worming knave).


     


    Yet I’m surely precisely surreal all the (illicit) time


    That I greet the succubus e-female pulsing in you


    Arriving as a devouring e-mail for me.

  • As for Xanga and its momentary demise, although many of you might disagree, I know that It missed us more than we needed it.  That's right.  Xanga is more than a blog, it is a veritable Beast.  And it has an insatiable hunger for human energy in the form of our attention.  

    Although you probably felt somewhat put out by its inaccessibility, the Beast itself was actually beginning to starve without us and in danger of a mortal unraveling.  But now that we are back, it is beginning to gnaw upon our individual cloaks of light-blessed world awareness once again, our energy being its food source.  And it will continue to gnaw and feast until our blinding energetic incandescences fade once more to the wee levels of illumination characteristic of a single ankle-high nightlight along an endless pitchblack corridor.  If you need a more mundane analogy, think of bloggers as a wild field filled with sprouting blades of grass (each of us a single blade) that The Blog turns into pasture by releasing a starving herd of cows that proceed to eat the whole pasture to the root.

    Hurry, if you have something worthy to say, get it out fast.  If what you say is worthy enough, it will be as unpalatable as a cocklebur to the Beast and the Beast will have to spit you out.  Then and only then, will you be free of Beast-mind, beyond blog-time, and returned to the Golden Eternity from which you came.


    Hurry! *gnaw* *gulp* *eek*

  • A tree fell on the house today, rolled off, took down the phone lines and gutters, and then smashed the air conditioner.



    Although it has been unseasionably warm here lately and was in the upper 60s yesterday, it's only in the 30s today.  The smashing is an omen!  Nature will be doing all the cooling now.

  • Today, while running around Dreamland (aka Lake View Cemetery), I punctuated my routine and stopped to take the opportunity to meet several of Dreamland’s other ‘regulars’. 


     


    At the top right of my ‘Side Dish’ is Aya.  She’s a Japanese housewife married to a biological researcher at a nearby university.  She revealed to me that she comes almost daily to Dreamland to visit the monument of John D. Rockefeller, the world’s first self-made billionaire.  She says she hopes by honoring him that wealth may luck her way!   How very Japanese!  She also thanked me graciously, as we parted, for just stopping to speak to her.  Hey Aya, the pleasure was all mine!


     


    Aya reminds me of another girl that I met in the cemetery earlier this year.  She said that when she was little, her dad would bring her to Rockefeller’s monument and tell her “If you find money on Rockefeller’s grave, it means you’ll be rich someday.”  Well, unbeknownst to her at that age, her dad would visit the cemetery just shortly before bringing her along and scatter pennies about for her to find.  Damn thing was that after finding those pennies on Rockefeller’s grave, she got emboldened and urged her dad to let her scour the rest of the cemetery for more treasure.  But daddy wasn’t too happy about her insistent pleading, needless to say.


     


    Below Aya is a photo of Rachel and Loren eating their lunch.  Daughter and mother had no qualms about posing for me even though I ran up to them, half out of breath, with sunglasses on, and explained how I’d like to snap their pic so that I could have some fun media-blogging it up onto the internet.  “Media-what?”  Yep, that’s what I said. The monument they’re sitting upon is the same one where I snapped a self-pic about a week ago.  Seeing that as a self-gratuity, I considered promoting them here as only apropos.


     


    And here’s the sunglass angel, ever-vigilant, but mistress of a myriad of moods:



  • Another crazy warm, sunny 70s day in Northern Ohio.  Where others see beauty, I more often see strength.


  • Abandonment swirl.  The struggle for green is losing out.


    Many ancients thought the concomitant cold of winter was the cause.


    Modern scientists proclaim it is the diminishment of light, the lengthening of night that trips the leaves into desertion.

    But I believe that the greening faeries, the plant-growth pixies, and the nature-nurturing nymphs are simply fucking off.  They be indulgently over-gobbling the fermenting grapes off the vine.  And what with this planet tilting, spinning, rotating, nutating, and wobbling, the faeries, nymphs and pixies eventually grow dizzy from all this commotion and start behaving like drunks staggering toward the bar’s (season’s) exit.

    “But”, you protest, “if such forces affect the sprites so forcefully, why aren’t they affecting us all the same?”  Because not all of us romance the grape with such dedication.  Not all of us relish the deranged sugar called alcohol as robustly as did Pan and his remaining devoted legions of nether-spirits. 



    I say ‘did Pan’ since Pan, of course, is dead.  The only god that ever died.  “God is dead,” proclaimed Nietzche.  “Thanks for the fitting obituary,” would have remarked Pan, had he not drunk himself to death.  But Pan, while he lived, was everything to everyone.  He was, after all, the playful perpetrator of pandemic pandemonium itself!  “Wine women, wine song, and wine wine!”, he used to declare. (Since shortened to the more familiar ‘wine, women, and song’ to make the notion more intelligible to those, to such influences, less familiar). 


    And his passing is, indeed, observed yearly, when the grapes grow ripe, by all his faithful followers sucking the mind-torqueing raisins and going deep-end into winter’s night.  Their hibernation is just the annual sleeping-off of the memorial panbuzz.  And in their hangover dozing, dreams of Pan and his vision of forever frolicking yet live on.  And their collective dreams sustain the legend.  The legend of the Once Great Pan.

  • ...another aspect of xanga's social dynamics...


    It seems like maybe xanga's abyss went a little off the deep end


    Well, at least she warns you.  Actually, she's not the first, nor will she be the last to sport a penis on her page.  No, I can't personally claim the fame, but Gudkarma can, several years (already) ago.   I was then much offended by his portrayal because it was self-flaunting, instead of a third-party portrayal.  But does it really make a difference? 


    The fact that abyss got such a pic in her email shouldn't be shocking.  After all, she is virtually soliciting such.  And the fact that xangans have shared such revealing pics of themselves with other xangans  might seem too commonplace to mention.  But I only mention it because while it used to be less than rarely common for me personally to get such incoming (from the opposite sex), it's been a long, long while since such attention has been made manifest.   And that, in itself, led me over the past year to ponder: 1) Had  I become less appealing?  2) Had the girls become less revealing?  3) Or had xanga itself tended to mute such eye-candy spinoffs by a) cleaning up the act, or b) becoming vastly huger and thus more anonymously and suffusingly unintimate?


    I was beginning to think the latter (3b), but if abyss can wrangle such so readily then there's surely no hope for that--or hope--depending on your own outlook.  In any case, if it ain't a case of xanga transforming the dynamics, then that must mean 1) or 2) ??


    Please tell me it's 2).  Please tell me it's 2)

  • I’m going to go for a post-sunset run tonight in the forest.  With the leaf canopy of the forest trees mostly fallen, a now clear sky and the full moon alight, I should be able to avoid foot hazards and come out alright.


     


    I missed the full eclipse of the moon last night due to cloud cover.  But was it really that much of a spectacle for those who saw it?  I think the real spectacle of eclipses throughout man’s early history was their initial unpredictability and mysteriously fearful sourcing.   Or maybe I’m just too oversaturated with technological special-effects to be ‘shock-and-awed’?  I can imagine only one condition under which I’d orgasmically appreciate a predictable eclipse: on an island, with a lover, and the fruit of the vine.


     


    On the other hand, we’ll probably see the day when space technology and adventure marketing advance to the state where they will be able to nudge PHAs (Potentially Hazardous Asteroids) into predictable collision impacts with, let’s say, the moon.  The ‘reality TV’ of that day will be ‘Survivor’ moon stationers who must use their missiles to defeat the incoming asteroids or face potential annihilation, or at least, incremental diminishment of their amenities (eg., the 1st asteroid takes out the fresh water transformer, the 2nd asteroid takes out the computer over-grid, etc., forcing them with each failure further back towards primitive existence).  I probably won’t watch such shenanigans any more than I watch the current reality-ones—practically nought.


     


    What if deciduous trees in middle and sub-polar latitudes could be genetically-bred to have brightly colored barks so that when they loose their load in the fall/winter, their trunks would still flame with visual vitality?  Imagine dazzling barks of fire reds, canary yellows, sunset oranges, bluegrass greens, and more.  Would it warm your heart to look out on a winterscape and behold that?  Or would you decry such as an ‘artificial Easter egg effect’?



    By the way, since my 'Sideblog' is down due to server problems and my mLog (camera photo blog) is still problematic due to uptake format problems, I switched to a syndicated version as my "Side Dish' of yet a new blogging foray: Buzznet.  It, too, provides instant posting, but non-problematically, of my camera phone pics.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about, that's okay too!

  • Well, my free mLog instant-cameraphone-pics-to-web account is already busted (not posting my pics correctly).  But I talked directly no-waiting to a tech (they have a number you can call--a free service and you get telephone technical support to boot!) who is rewriting script to, hopefully soon, make it work again.  What's nice is that in just being a start-up, they are eager to assist the first users.  Maybe that's why I'm always off and adventuring with new blogs and services.  By time they get as big as xanga is now, you could commit suicide on your blog and the management team wouldn't even notice.


    I got a referral to my blog from the MSN Search for 'bootylicious girls'   I checked and my blog is ranked 6th among around 12,000 entries in that category.  That's outrageous (I should be first ).  But it ain't me babe, I swear.  Must be some of the babes leaving bootylicious comments here that are rubbing off on my blog and wafting a scent all the way back to MSN.


    I think my back is breaking.  Anybody got any glue?

  • I was just pondering without purpose, just about an hour ago, when a couple of words popped into my head that I contemplated as 'coinable'.  One word was terrortwist and I envisioned using it to describe a terrorist act that goes astray and destroys the terrorist(s) instead of the intended target (such terrorists, I imagined, might additionally be described as terrortwits .  I went out to Google and checked for any hits on the words--no, there were none.  I then considered a casual post to suggest their usage but wavered on posting it without having a substantial instance to exemplify it.  Well, an hour later, checking the news, I ran into this:


    RIYADH, Saudi Arabia  — Two suspected militants blew themselves up Thursday in the holy city of Mecca when security forces attempted to arrest them, a security official said.


    The official said the two likely belonged to a terror cell that had clashed with Saudi police in Mecca on Monday. That cell has been linked to Al Qaeda, the terrorist network blamed for the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks on the United States and for a string of suicide bombings in the Saudi capital in May.

    -Fox News


    *goes back to pondering without a purpose*


  • Damn it.  I was forced on Halloween to go out and buy a camera phone.  Yup.  I had lost my previous cell phone the night before and needed a replacement.  Unfortunately, the only replacement compatible with my laptop setup for wireless internet was a Sanyo 5300 pic phone.  Crap.  I don't need no stinking picphone, but I buy it anyway.  So what happens?  See that pic above?  Yeah, this picphone is making me do stupid things in the supermarket at 10 PM at night!


    Of course, Xanga doesn't allow direct phone-to-blog pic posts.  So having a camera phone and Xanga is no big thing.  But I just found *another blog* that's specifically a *mobile blog* and offers direct camera phone-to-blog postings.  What's more, it offers " unlimited photo and text message uploads, and 12 audio uploads per month from your cellphone to your mLog!"   


    That's right: mLog.  And my mLog is nfp.mlogs.com .  But, no, no, no, don't go there!  I'm not trying to get you to go there and look at my silly camera phone pics or listen to my free phone-to-blog posts.  I just wanted to point it out as a new web resource that's offering two really cool features for free. 


    So, how long does it take me to take a pic on the phone and post it to my mLog?  About 30-45 seconds altogether.  Which means, if someone murders me and I don't die immediately, I might well get their pic up online before my last breath.  Or if I'm rolling around in the hay and my belt-hung camera snaps a lasciviously inadvertant pic, it might end up on my mLog even before I'm done rolling around.  


    ok, ok, I know, I know...


    *covers ears and starts making 'la, la, la, la, la, la ....' sounds as comments roll in proclaiming "Xanga's already enough for me", "I don't have time for another blog", "What, you branching off again?" ... la, la, la, la, la, la, la *

  • There is a dainty dance of words that no longer satisfies.


    There is a solitary trembling of self that has exhausted its adrenalin value.


    There is a cognitive slideshow of erotic entrappings that has lost touch with its source of emanation.


    There is a sense of shrifting-short that the world presumes is a tomb for the anguish of fumbled love.


    But there are not enough sunsets assignedly-unique (take-a-ticket) for every lover (of life, of mankind, or of just another) who’s ever fallen asleep with a restless heart.


    And it would seem that the good love of all the lovers that do practice their love is not enough to launch even one sunrise of one new day as a fresh-for-all new start.


  •  


    When I blog       I stink with runner’s sweat,
    I sit on dirt    and roll on grass,


    I rest my tired jogging ass,


    And play with words, and play with words.


     


    When I run      I feel like I’m at play,
    Like it’s the only     fun thing to do,
    And stopping short just isn’t cool,


    Then thoughts arise to my surprise.


     


    When I think       I ponder unspent love,


    And wonder if     someday we’ll meet


    Bumping wayward on a lonesome street,


    Or just fall like leaves by fate to earth.

  • Thoughts on… 


    Iraq:  We are the Giant, Goliath.  The resistance is composed of little Davids.  And the shot they’re slinging really stings.  Okay, I think it’s now time to ‘downsize’.


    Rosie O’Donnell:  Ring around a rosie, a pocketful of ‘fuck that’,…I thought the Plague was a thing of the past.


    Bush:  The man is a terrible poet.  But arguably a better poet than he is President.


    The Sun:  If is goes supernova anytime soon, I hope it’s on a clear night.  That would make for an unbelievable nighttime display.  And a killer sunrise.


    Time:  An exquisite invention used to sell watches.  Time found its greatest modern hype in the Year 2000 scare.  I still have a horde of white gas and propane fuel that I don’t know what to do with.  Anyone for camping?


    Blogging:  The first blogger wasn’t the first to post, but the first to comment and thereby make the instrument interactive.  “Watson, come here, I need you.” was not the first telephone call.  The first true telephone call consummated would have been Watson (imaginatively) answering, “What the fuck for?  This ass-kicking phone is working just fine.”


    Money:  Money is a myth and economy is the very real act of myth-making.  Corporations are the modern vampires that live beyond us and suck our lifeblood.


    Relationships:  Sometimes relationships get as complex as tieing shoes.  Better then to run in bare feet.


    Camera phones:  If you own a camera phone, and haven’t been tempted to take a picture from the potty, you’re lying to yourself.


    Perfection:  It only exists in a lifeless world.   If you’ve found perfection, you’re dead.


    Death:  Death’s the faerie that flaps its wings when perfection is clamoring for more attention.


    Life: The protracted, imperfect struggle to experience  exuberance in the state of existence.  Perfection is as scandalized by life as the Catholic Church is scandalized by an uncontrollably naughty nymphing nun.


  • ...tree love...

  • All souls resort to death as a release from desire.
    I cling to life because I want to soar higher.


     


    So another Halloween has passed and I’ve remained untamed, untethered, and mismatched.  Halloween has this advantage: wild energy tends to out.  But I do not display, I watch.  Who can wait until the moment of action?  How to envision all the waves of the ocean washing over the Earth all at once?


     


    my mind is a spongebob poring up suckable knowledge.  my heart is a ouroboros flowing with circular emotion.  my instincts are scouts dispatched as forward warriors.  my senses are intrepid trip-wires over which the world traipses.  my desire is a handful of coins tossed into a fountain, some settling as heads, others as tails, one’s swallowed by a pygmy orphaned dolphin with a severe mineral deficit.  my reactions are unthinking.  my energy’s explosive.  my aura’s been bumped up into undetectable frequencies.  i have gone stealth.  i dodge light.  and disappear into the night.

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