Thursday, February 19, 2009

Totally Random and Inappropriate Thoughts on Feelings 20-25

20. First random thought of the day is usually attached to my dream life with Liam Neeson. Oh my gosh, he is so Celtic! Yes, I love to think I could connect on some intrinsically spiritual level, like a celtic design pattern, melting souls so. Well that is the romantic in me (on my nother's side). My father's side with the Irish roots really makes me feel...well...unsure. I have never really known any Irish people considering my family was prototypical Irish roots. But the roots were old I suppose, from the potatoe famine times of the mid 1800's. We were farmers as most were, and we were earthy. I dont know how much Druid would be left in the Christianized Irish, but I think the superstition thing did invade my life somewhat. If I really had this luck thing down, I am sure I would have won last nights 649 39 million, no matter! It is going up to 48 million on Saturday! haha! The Luck O' the Irish!!! Wish I knew THAT! hahah! Yes, well, I do have the pursuant dream of the writer, but to be honest, James Joyce was way to brash for me. I mean, he is just plain RUDE! I mean that is rather funny, the brits, they have this nature of funny baseness in their lingo which makes me "laugh my head off backwards". hahah! LMAO!!
Well, the culture is still so rich in nuiance, I love that. The old country cultures seem to have contact with those pithy roots of our base human nature. There is a definite honesty there which I TOTALLY appreciate! Liam and Jim Morrison present to me that soul-connection which NEVER LETS GO. If you have sex with either I am sure you will continue to have sex with them for at least 10 more generations of reincarnation. I hope this time I could get JIm off the horse! lol, jajo

21. Oh not a very random number for me, 21! I think I love 21. NOt just blackjack, but every other form of random number generations that appear Lucky. On the luck thing. I am not a wimpadelic "I'll pay you tomorrow for a hamburger today". NO not at all! Although luck is for wimps! I mean, really!!! You know it is like this; you believe you are going to win, and then...nothing! It is not easy when you think you have conjured all the green rabbits feet from The Beaver restaurant or magic flashlights from Pink Elephant popcorn and put your own particular "hex" on the numbers only to find all this for naught! Yes, I beleive there is a time and place for those numbers to "let go" and release their "luck to you". Good luck, my friends to you, please rub my magic green rabbit foot! (that sounds gross, excusez!), ja jo

22. Contrarily, the next thing which is odd ball is that the lucky numbers next bankroll are usually unlucky as heck and the generational numbers movement can make all luck negateable. As if you win with 2121 and then when the numbers turn to 2222 you have this incredible bad luck, much worse than any good luck fostered by 2121!!! What IS with that? Not wanting to be superstitious, (I cant help that I am, being Irish roots and all) know it will happen one day. You wake up and say "Do I feel lucky (do I?)...and yes you do. You pull the right strings that day. You win the purple panda bear (yes I did at the a CNE). I had that "intuitive" knowing that that "string" would pull that bear and he "would be mine, forever". I also prayed to win the bear from St. John and this is really wierd, but I was always sort of scared of that won purple panda bear. (sounds like Mister Rogers program whom I adore). Yes, it is true, luck exists in some unknown entity. That is why people always say "be careful what you wish for" it can have 2222 consequences. It is simply Newtonian "cause and effect". The nature of Equal and Opposite reactions. Thankyou Mr. Newton from Cambridge! Lovely!!!Once I figure it out, I can enjoy the multimillions with total hedonistic abandon, but then again, look what careless abandon can do to the likes of a sungod like Jim? OMG I dont want to think about Icarus factor, flying too close to the sun. It is fateful, and cathartic denounement of a favourite Homerian play. Tragedy or Comedy or a combo? Will you have fries with that or that bag of potato chips from the potatoe famine. How is this possible? Help needed here!:)

23. Well, ya, it is always the same, I put the cat out, the cat wants in. Life is like that. Cause and effect. 23 is rather an odd number for me. I was suppose to be married by 23. Of course this didnt happen. But I so wanted it to happen. I wanted to be married at 23 because, my parents were married at 23. I wrote a poem "I bought a guitar at 24" which I did. I think the guitar pursuit was the beginning of telling myself "I will never be married at 23, so just forget ever being married". The fairy marriage nymphs obviously did not sprinkly my head with love dust enough to make my stoic boyfriend to marry me. I waited, as in the desert of waiting forever. Nothing. Nope, nothing. I wasted years not knowing that this relationship would be anything. I lingered longer, languishing in the fact I would be forever a "Miss" or "Missed". What was I thinking? That a "knight in shining armour" that my "prince would come" usually and that I would be forever, forever loved as a divine light being; honoured worships, lavished upon, treated as a star quality, with many honourariums issued for feats of wonder that I am. Cut the crap! Life sucks now! We arent Druid witches making things happen. There's not this instanteous, "we can have anything we think we can have". How naive. I realized this naivity far too late. I was, seriously, living in a dream world where all wonder would unfold the red carpet before my gargantuan feet as I strode lightfooted without leaving a footprint on the red carpet of lust and greed need. Yes, it was delusional my Salvador Dali world, and because I started to believe the fantasy, oh so tragic, overall. I have gotten smarter in my old age, thank-god! I could tell you more, but this is For Your Eyes Only, Baby!!!lol, jajo

24. At twenty-four I bought a guitar! Hmmmmm...a poem I wrote many years ago. At twenty four I committed myself to myself rather than some man that would make me that white picket fence dream. Being an artist, wearing short punk hair to New York and looking like a butch lesbo man, i gave up my pink flowergirl tulle for a world of I'm tougher than what you can dish out". I guess it was the punk age. I did frequent those places (The Blue Boot). OMG they were rough n tough. I would listen to Steve Stunning 63 Monroe and dream about meeting Jack London in some skanky bar where I could continue my Moulin Rouge dream of the rogue in training. The irreverant artist, the angry young woman syndrome. The "there's got to be more than this" cry. I'd find my rougher tougher side, and "leave it all behind" (Men Without Hats).I really new all men were gay and the wedded dream bliss was a lie or not a just was phoney, fake, bs, crap. Women would be subjegated to the back burner, lesser persons of a nongod. No religion too. There was this emptiness that translated to angriness, punkness. Who gives a damn? Nash the Slash could give me the impetus fear I needed to find those kinky dreams of unrestrained lusting for life on the wild side. Of course I didnt get wild. I couldnt. I was too Catholic roots (hey it did sink in). I saw all around me the spectre of evil in the punk circle. The punk girl waiting by the male washroom grossed me out and I quit the topic. It was scanky beyond belief and I just couldnt get into it that much. I had retained from my halcyon days my much need moral fibre. I liked the music, the rebelliousness, the rawness, but I was young and had the energy.I didnt like relieving myself on sodden streets. Women just dont do that. The Garage wasnt really private enough, or dark enough a place. I am sure the 80's hidden camera may have caught such horrid indiscretions of a need to go girl. Today, I can take the new music, as long as it is tempered with less decibles (db). The Ramones really did make me deaf for a week. The ears rang and rang and rang. Was it worth it, all that pain after the drunken debauchery? I think not! I take it I am much more of a mod than a rocker anyway. Although I like the black leather, it really didnt make my ass look big. (yes it did). Who cares, I didnt care for awhile. And I lost it all so suddenly.jajo


  1. Cant forget "Rick Rude" a member of 63 Monroe, or my many friends from that fried era. And I can see John, and Paul and there's Derek and in the wings, Leonard Longing. Music is my forte, but I do so have very eclectic tastes. Someday I will tell you my likes. Do my likes turn into my loves? When does like become love? How does THAT process work? Good question!!!

  2. I will talk about Ramon later. You all know Ramon, don't you? Ramon...where r u? Ramon...the reason I left is because I guess I wanted to be a wack like you. And I couldnt I need the little engine that could more in my life than the little engine that couldnt. It was like this, "if you wanted it you should have put a ring on it" and I dont mean roundworm ring! Seriously, I wonder where and how you are as I do my other loves, and I love until I am loved no more and that usually gets too ugly to talk about. But now we can be friends, right? You needn't be a lover anymore. Names have not be changed to protect the innocent. It could be any John, Paul or Ringo! or Ramon really. I just moved on when it didnt work out. I sure gave it years of time to pan out, didnt I? YOu know I still and always will LOVE YOU ALL...just not ALL AT ONCE. Thank-you very much. I am not skanky or sleasy just maybe to Euro in nature. I like to be in love. I think that is what was needed. Now that my hormones have calm down at 50 I AM MUCH more sensible, sane, almost! Love ya!!! Friends! I will talk about my plutonic friendships later. You know who you are...i didnt make love to you, yet! haha LMAO!!