...THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE... (I HOPE...) THERE'S ALWAYS HOPE...

... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ... my   "Keep In Touch"   pages ...
A Journal of Sorts
. o O ( of course I should be sleeping ) O o .




so far behind



more to follow



later



I used to be able to just sit down and write and fill pages and pages with words that meant something to me even if they appeared to be babble to someone (or everyone) else... those were the days, my friends... friends?... yoo hoo, friends?... you are out there, right?...

yes of course, busy with lives... or sitting around and not reaching out like I do sometimes (too often in recent years)... wallowing in self-pity is very self-destructive behavior that I highly do not recommend to anyone ever... but please do as I say, not as I do, at least on this point... mock me, lagh, cry, send tears in plastic bags, send some other body fluid, send something to let me know you are real and alive and still producing bodily fluids...

can we see the smelly envelopes raising alarms in post offices all over the world?... bt I am serious about wanting to hear from you... where have you been?... why have you not visited?... are you not a child?... I mean, I live in a child's paradise, the vacation capital of every child's world... and you aren't coming around?...

you must be severely depressed... or else you must have a wonderful life (so tell me about it, dang it... if you care about me you'll at least let me live vicariously through your tales and adventures and loving stories... I promise I won't tell the world... and I'll do my bext not to be all cynical and jealous too... you can trust me... I mean, if you still know how)...

of course there is a grain of truth and seriousness even in the most irreverent teasing so you just have to come over and look into my eyes to get the whole real true actualized story...

and then we can make up another one J




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The Salmon of Doubt   by Douglas Adams
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READ DISCLAIMER   

, and wandering the web

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