don't stop bereavin'

so that was how it ended. that. was how. it ended.

don't stop believin'.

i don't know what that means. but right on for the darkness, know what i mean?

my friend Jme says she doesn't like this blog as much as she liked the old one. she says she can't relate to anything here any more, and how come i don't post as often and not as much prose.

well, maybe she can relate to this!

oh, right. you can't see that. i just raised my middle finger and wagged it in front of the screen. i did. i know it's unlikely that you'll bereave this, so you'll just have to trust me.

question: what's the difference between a frog?

answer: one leg's both the same.

that joke, ladies and gentlemen and Jme, is courtesy of Mr. Bobby Weir.

what should i have for lunch/dinner/dessert? this is the eternal question. none of that other stuff about the soul or the cosmos or reality or divinity. just: what will go in my belly soon.

you know what makes a book really good? when you can read it aloud and it sounds more vivid, more deep and true. when it somehow sounds more real, more real than the silent ideation. when it sounds like the sound of consciousness -- but loud.

when it sounds like awakening.

hey, my computer's broke and i need a job. such is life.


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