The lack of which seems to leave me with no crutch and a handicap. We have different styles that we like more than others, and even some people who say that they just don’t listen to music. I’m not one of those second people, for when I don’t listen, don’t play, don’t strive to make some of my own… holy hell the effects of which seem to be that I recognize when after the fact and I do make myself available to it, my mood elevates in such a way that I repeatedly kick myself for having let, forementioned-self, go so long without giving the time to put that soundtrack over my life, or let myself take those minutes, hours, whatever, to be part of it, let it wash over me, let my emotions spin and hit within the banks of whatever it is I do find to listen to.

So the past few hours have been helped along by the wonderful songs of The Beatles and the adaptation of Across the Universe, to those I introduce things to, if you haven’t partaken of this wonderful bit of Beatles love and you have any, any at all like of the Fab Four, or even one of their songs happens to get stuck in your head now and again, do yourself a favor and rent or borrow this movie. Have yourself the ability to listen to it at volume, as it is a musical and there is both singing and music.

Oh yea, Beatles Rock Band, if there are those of you who are just feeling really really generous, we would very much like to have a copy when it comes out. In fact the plan was to come back to the states and pick up a copy along with both bonus guitars when we came back in October. Well right now it doesn’t look as if that is going to be happening, as we’re having trouble getting back in October. Oh, side note, I sorta miss the apartment complex I lived in in college, music at 3 am, and you know what we did? Turned our own music up a little bit more in our room so we couldn’t hear it, no bitching, no letters, no whining. Well maybe we’d invite our neighbors over if we were having a party, or the like. Quiet is nice out in the woods right? Nope, that’s when the fucking bears show up and maul your ass. Noise unless you’re trying to run across bears…

Hell might be why music is so comforting to me, bears. Polar Bears. They have them here you know, not in the building as far as I know, but in the city… make noise, for your own sake. For mine.

I’m a heavy sleeper, I can sleep with damn near anything going on, in fact, I need noise, at least a fan for me to really get to sleep easy. Music works too, but that usually messes with other folks, as per the paragraph above the one above this one.

Okay just watched the Beatles Rock Band opening… and wow, geekgasm. I have to compose myself, give me a moment.

(Two minutes pass)

Okay, better now.
But that’s really it as for as right now.

K.

But that’s not really what this one is about, similar, but again not. For you see, in college I had a couple very close friends, both named Jessica. But since they also hung out with another girl named Jessica neither of them were Jessica, they were Jesse and Jess. Now, not to confuse anyone, they went by these names long before they met Jessica #3, but it just worked out very well that way. Back to the story; there’s a part of me, and perhaps in others too, since I’ve seen this happen with other folks, that falls in love. It’s unexplainable, it rarely tends to happen at opportune moments, it’s very hard to direct, or predict where it’s going to hit next. Oh, and then you have to deal with it when it happens, that what separates the poets from the novelists.

Somewhere along the way I started to feel funny around Jessica #2 (here on out referred to as Jess, how I referred to her, now we’re on the same page). So, I thought about it, and started thinking about all those things you think about when you’re 20-something and start feeling funny about someone like I was feeling funny about with Jess. And just to clarify, this isn’t the funny where you look out of the corner of your eye expecting them to be doing something that violates national security, this is the funny where you try to make the good jokes, and be cool so that even though you were friends before, you don’t want them to suddenly not want to be friends anymore… maybe that’s just my reaction, but it fits and I think you can figure out what I mean.

So months went by and we got closer and closer, spent lots of time together, and somewhere along the line, I got her a small book of Shakespeare for her… and it was right around that time that I realized that I did love her, wasn’t that passion fueled desire love, but that other one where you know that your life is just better because they are in your life and that you will probably never forget them, no matter how long, or how far away they are.

So yeah, an episode of a Disney Teen Sitcom brought up memories of one of my best friends and how even though I miss her terribly, have her with me anytime I need her. In a way, at least, and that’s comforting. We lose folks, either lose touch, or more permanently, but we have this facility of memory that keeps their words, actions, and all those shared experiences somewhere for a while. So I guess what I have to say is, not all memories are good, but not all are bad either, so make them while you can, remember them while you are able. For one day, if we did something maybe even a little right, we’ll be in one of those good memories and will make someone smile.

K.

P.S. So Jess, I’ve been thinking about you again. Smiling.

Been reading a lot of good comics here of late, I’m not going to list them or go into them right now, if you’re interested I’ll let you know.

The important part is that the writing on a good comic is something different than the writing on a good article or short story. Arranging the panels and using dialogue to accent the visual. It’s something that I’ve been interested in for the past few years. I didn’t really read comics as a kid, didn’t start until I was out of college really I think.

Anyway, that’s today’s thought. And the question is, what makes a good story for you?

Been reading Watchmen the past week, and I have been wanting to finish that to have something to talk about, but as it stands, I’m half finished, and enjoying it quite a bit. I didn’t know what to expect going in, and rather glad about it. Even though I had read some of the plot points online, and had a rough outline of the story, having it all in one bound is nice to plow through.

In other news, we’re getting our first visitor from the States in less than two weeks, if my math is right. ‘Chelle’s mom is coming, and I’m excited. Both for her to see where we’re living, and getting to go around Germany with us some. She lived here around the time ‘Chelle was born, and is eager to see how things have changed in the time since then.

I’m a tad bit worried that I’m becoming addicted to caffeine, without morning coffee, I tend to drag. Hell even with it, I just drag faster, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. <grin> The point is! That’s all, just that the point is… not too dramatic, eh?

You didn’t see that, but there was a dramatic pause there for oh say a minute or two as I contemplated the move set from Virtua Fighter 4, good game by the way. Always loved that series, one of the most realistic fighting systems in a video game.

So yes, I may do a list of my favorite fighting games, and reasons why, if for no other reason than: 1. The internet was created in order to make lists. It’s a fact, look it up.

Okay, I could ramble for a bit longer, but I’m done for now.

K.

Factory

Reptile

No broad sweeps, brushes perhaps, dust-trap hounds, little bits of Flow, that’s where it is, isn’t it, in the movement of Particles, the transfer of energy, making sure things don’t slip into the cracks, into the Ether, out of usable condition.

Lizards are good for that, but again, that’s what they enjoy doing.

There’s no bacon on the stove to sizzle, no eggs to pop in the fat left over from the bacon.

What more needs to be said, than what has already been said, and that which is going to be said? Far more and, as it seems, to me, far less. Nothing deep about that, I wish everyone to have the chance to say something they immediately want to take back, that’s power, seeing the change of someone’s face at the power of Your words. The repercussions are the price you pay for such a moment, turning the Reality of experience mailable for that moment, becoming a Shaper. Now I also wish no one to have to suffer from such an act, that they might not say anything that they don’t want to voice, but, well, somethings need to be said.

Sale, aisle three, muskrats, no, those arn’t muskrats.

Transportation of spirit, that shiver that moves up one side of your spine and just as you thought it gone, shoots down the other, leaving you somewhere else for the briefest of seconds, a flash in the mind’s-eye, soaring over a valley with a lake so clear that the sky checks itself in it.

I’d like to think I’m creating something here, a map perhaps, to link one place in my mind with another. I’d like to think that it’s working. I’d like to think that the small ache behind my right temple is me forging a bridge over a troubled waterway. And in liking to think, I find myself liking to think.

So, with all that introduction out of the way, where shall I start?

I went to sleep last night and woke up feeling wonderful, the one-eighty of the night before that. I have a few people to thank for that. I’ve put myself into a bit of quiet chaos the past few weeks, away from the structure of a schedule, and now it seems to giving a dividend that made it worth it. It wasn’t worth it in the interim, more than one of those days wholly sucked. Things are good, getting better, it seems. I wait for calls to let me work, being at the mercy of the phone is not new, was how I ran most of my massage business, but the difference is that I don’t have a group of folks to just pull in and practice on teaching English. So I want more work, to get more practice, to feel better about it, I have an urge for experience.

This is a good start to the day. I sometimes don’t think I have anything to ramble about, but it often seems that I have more than my share to things to talk about, even if at length they don’t make a great deal of sense.

So, let’s see just how many days I can update this, mornings if I’m not teaching, or if I’m up early enough, then too.

May the day hold an insight, and you be still dreaming enough to see it.

K.

Alright, now that you’re past the jump, lets start with the first book, Soon I Will Be Invincible. Alright I just found the webpage for the book, I didn’t even know it existed, I was going to link to the Amazon page so that you could read another review or to get the book, but no, a whole themed website, how cool is that?

Turns out that according to the Department of Metahuman Affairs that I am not suffering from Malign Hypercognition Disorder (”Evil Genius” Syndrome). However there are those that do, however they come by the powers they have, some individuals simply see the need to reshape the world, whether the world wants it or not. And that’s where the book picks up, much less Marvel, much more Real World. Now I hate that damn show on MTV, but I love this book. With two perspectives you get to see the reasons for both those who wear the tights to rule the world and to protect it. Not going to say much more than I recomend it, read it if you have the time.

Alright, book two. I am legend. This link is in fact the Amazon web page, and I will say this. I love Matheson. I read Hell House in college for a class on Literature and the Occult, if you like a reality-based horror, this man has written two of the best stories in the cannon. Steven King has said that if were not for Matheson, he wouldn’t have written horror, so there. You’ll find endorsements for him from slews of people if you look, and there’s fine reason. He puts together a fantastic book, from beinging to finish. Now a few time in I am legend I found myself having to reread a passage thinking that I missed something, but once you get far enough into the book, you realize that the progression of the main character is the reason for the transitions, and in retrospect works well.

Both of them get the Sepian Stamp of Approval, add them to reading lists, add Matheson’s to the must read, just don’t judge it by the latest Will Smith version, the two, while retaining a core of ideas, differ in execution dramaticly.

Alright, that’s it for this weeks chat, we’ll pick this all up again in the morning… maybe.

As I wander down the street, looking up and seeing many windows dark, it’s the ones that still are lit that draw my attention and my imagination. I want to know what keeps them up, what they are thinking about, what perhaps are they listening to, or watching to spend the time. Is that time something they are hoping will pass, or is every second something they hold onto not wanting to miss a single one?

Nothing is permanent, but we only ever seem to realize this until the sheet is pulled out from under us. It takes a wondrous set of conditions to make anything last for ages, much less with it’s intentions intact.

So what is that window lit for? I reach out and can touch the drapes, but the voice behind is silent from my distance. Strain as I might. So what’s the next best thing I can do? Reach out through space and listen by speaking. Echoing others minds with my own words, perhaps to unlock a brief response, something jarred loose in knowing I am curious.

So yes, with a moment, I look to find a moment, as water to water, as air to air…

Had a night not two ago that had me on the bed, face down, mind spinning about the necessity of me leaving the apartment. Think of some sort of raging, but inconsistent, version of social anxiety that really only shoots up when I either need to take the dog out by myself or, well that’s about when it’s worst, I can go to the store with little problem, I can go out on my own with little trouble. It’s when I have the dog and I worry about this one guy who is out there walking his dog that has tried to talk to me a few times, and that I have very little in the way of understanding what he’s been saying, all I have been able to make out is something about foot or kicking, and I wonder if he thinks I’ve been kicking the dog (just to give him some idea that I have, I sometimes put my foot on the dog’s backside to make him sit at the corners, I only punt him in the house . Yea so that just jacks my mind so far into the I hate not to know, not to understand, get things wrong-I don’t try mind set that well, I freeze up with all the haste of a R 134 converted Buick in Orlando summer rush-hour traffic.

It’s not pretty, on top of which it makes me all angry and irritable. Today I got a bit like that, worried that I might run into some of the neighborhood kids and have to “not talk” to them. I hate standing out sometimes, in what my mind is bad ways, I guess, and well… it really doesn’t make a lot of sense why I don’t just jump in with two feet, I do with most everything else, I’m just *really* worried to come off to complete strangers as a moron. Yea…

Okay, I feel better now having said that, makes me more resolved to actually change it now that it’s out there.

Mismatched faces don’t interrupt me

The bodies consistently intruige me

With the understanding of species

comes the relaxation of worries

The taxes take tolls on reason

What’s left is far from worthless.

K

Been thinking of all sorts of things here of late, but day has been the first day that I’ve really remembered to just be. A little drop in meditation now and again, looking and fish, thinking of fish swimming, looking at pigeons, you get the idea.

Totally lost the train there…

Alright, flash forward about a week, still no pictures, but that’s because my phone is still locked and I don’t like carrying it around if it’s only a camera that’s roaming for signal. Same Starbucks, same chair, overlooking the same street and drugstore. Different people, always different people, and I love that.

The last few days in Florida are still hanging on the edges of my memory, pushing for frontage, and getting it frequently. So much happened in such a small period of time, powered, packed, even if the line of time wasn’t stuffed full. Even the quiet times were sparked. As I write about it, it makes me smile.

We’ll have internet in the house come Wednesday evening, so the need for writing out will be less, but no telling, I may well head down here to do it, I like it here, but I will explore more and see if there is another coffee shop that takes my connection for the month I have of it. After that, there’s rumors of a free net cafe that I will on the lookout for.

Life is good

K.

The best part about living is that you never know what is going to happen. Now by *best* I mean it has the ups and downs of uncertainty, the movement from baseline is greatest, we can have times we never could foresee. I’ve never planned the most enjoyable days of my life, and I hardly think I ever will.

When I am in Florida, my emotions are amplified, my reds are deeper, regardless of their shade. The brightness of blue is wide, and the grays that shade are welcome. People tend to stay where they grew up because the energies are familiar. But sometimes, because they are, it acts like similar poles of magnets, pushing because the forces are the same.

I just realized that I don’t know how to put pictures up on this, but it’s okay because I don’t have any pictures to put up. Don’t take very many, never remember to. Alright that just an aside.

Sometimes you need just a light touch and to tease out what it is you want, you may only see the hint of it, and you can be unsure if it will come to you, so you try, if no, nothing lost, if yes, gain. Remember that the next time you wash your hands and need a paper towel. Or the next time you see something in someone’s eye, giving you that electric shock that tingles down your spine.

Once again I forgot where I was, but I still remember a time that happened, the zing not the forgetting, because remembering forgetting is just sort of funny as I think about it. Was during college in my Modern Philosophy class, she was sitting across the room, didn’t know her because she wasn’t in the department. Something about that shared look, I was paralyzed and had to look away with my heart all a flutter. The same feeling I had again when I came down the escalator at the airport the first time I met ‘Chelle in person. Another time that I couldn’t have planned what happened, never dreamed I’d fall in love on that trip.

Ahhhh, I just found how to add things, it’s a beautiful little button at the top of the editor. Wonderful.

Okay, I think I’m about done.