hellohowareyou? goodandyou? good.

we mean what we say, we say what we mean. sure. that's easy, the hard part is knowing if people mean what we hear them say, and do we hear what they mean?
misunderstandings. comprehension asunder.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0oGrwGCRImY&feature=endscreen&NR=1

every conversation is a game of telephone. we're pretty good at it by now, but sometimes we stumble upon a mumbler. speak your mind with words like windows. (clearly) windows are like eyes and eyes lead to the soul [something like that.] sincerity is imperative.

who are you(?) to know anything about me? (or anyone)

is there any difference between a person who pretends to be someone they're not by adding (+) to them self [qualities, style, interest] and someone who hides and becomes less of who they are [is more reserved, doesn't really say what sorts of things they like] to fit in with those they admire?
to me it seems they are different, yet both change for other people.
and maybe that's really just how people find out who they really are and want to be.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B18lG9mETIs&feature=related

brainglish [brain glitch]

i've so many writer's blocks that i could build a wall.  I've also got so many drafts i could start an army.  yet with all this i still can't seem to be able to find enough words for even one complete idea, one decent post.  so, you get this indecent post.  the words are all on the tip of my tongue, taking turns coming from the back to the front of my mind, but somehow their meaning is lost.  they never reach the tip of my pen [fingers, in this case] intact.  maybe, thats a fault of mine, or maybe its just that the translation from brainglish to english isn't very good?

Life: you look like a participant.

warning: this post contains content that might be an insight to some viewers.
~ignorant viewer discretion is advised.~

i'm not picky, i probably even like you. so long as you tell the truth.  i like people,
As they Are and Were. (thoughts on truth and people)
My words are cut off, like a fixed
drip. drip. drop.
like the dry blue sky, my conscience is clear.
you know me? like the back of my hand, washed clean
with soap made of lye?

truth is like liquid. hard to see. hard to hold.
hard to speak until swallowed. truth is hard and it is cold.

we could go on....
about how truth floods, fuels those who run, but
what would be the point?
it'd read as Just
a pencil thin line, that once touched becomes
sssmmuudgged.
so, this paper stays blank,
as the back of my mind.
inspiration gone, without even the linger
of the last note of a song.

and all of This, started,
ended.
              right here.
with choices and actions
that like falling lifeless
leaves lie heaped on the ground, for its
the autumn of the seasonal year.
we think we're done when everything is dead,
but it comes down to one thing,
not zero or none.
Truth is the matter.
That, makes who we are.
not at once, but quite slowly
in a small drip. drip. drop.
so, with this matter only,
my words, are cut off.


~we all know that 'Someone', who we'll never figure out, but still, we befriend them. the mystery is half [or whole] of the intrigue.  and being their friend, its kind of like listening to AM and FM radio at the same time: mixed signals, bad reception, the same four lines in the same four songs, and a mess of political opinions.
yet, we like music, we like to hear familiar things, and to think through the opinions of others, and so, we like this person.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rT-5NY83OYI&ob=av2e

i'm not picky, i probably even like you. so long as you tell the truth.

hourglass. lookingglass. timepassed.

oh time, how you are always and now. how you set stereotypes and control my appearance. an appropriate time for new hobbies would be after retirement(so time would have us believe)....so when i recently took up drawing [portraits, abstract, and random such sketches] i felt like i must be retired.  however. it still stands that i am not retired. i have a job. i would like two jobs. so, i suppose i've broken the stereotype of age.  shrug. mostly i just feel re-tired. i age a little everyday and every night on my way to sleep, i suddenly have ambition and motivation. i am an artist, a writer, i take up water aerobics (okay..maybe not that) ...twenty minutes later,  i feel re-tired. so i sleep. next morning. i arise, go to work and feel at-tired.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jNv46fB93IE 

this song reminds me of the passing of time. it fits the mood of this post, and the tune of a music box.  

a book at face value.

i've sort of been toying with this idea in my head: a book of peoples faces.  its sort of like the ultimate scrap book.  pictures of all your friends and little captions.  you can have your copy of book of faces updated by simply sending your book into the company. we'll have it updated and returned to you in five business days with little or no cost to you. shrug. we hope to come out with a digital/online version.  not entirely sure if it will catch on though.  We've already got a demo/test group going.  it seems they've changed the focus of the site from scrapbooking to 'chattin'.  they have added more than one hundred people to their friends list...does anyone really know 100 people well enough to have full access to their scrapbook and captions?
its a different world out there....this new generation. they value themselves in the number of 'friends' they have. they are taken at face value and nothing else.

to you (you too)

 even though when you're with someone, doing the same thing, at the same time, in one place, its never really the same, is it?

~Today (two days)~

The water, it was green

                                                 (no       jade)    

the reeds swayed and sighed

     in the wind

and the sky was clear

                                (or was it clouded?)

the karp played in the shallows

their mouths blowing bubbles

to the frogs.

mosquitoe's legs kissed

                         (no     skimmed) 

the surface

waves slapped and lapped

the wooden skiff,

            (it was a canoe)

this scene    (seen)    together

was different for me 

                         than you. 

same water, same sky. seen through different eyes with different  colours and hues, but converge at points.