well I walked into the party like... oh second thought, good grief I can be manic at times... yes, well, I left the previous special holiday edition and social commentary blog entry up as long as I could (until the words threatened to blow up my head if I didn't let more out) cuz rants like that deserve maximum exposure and I appreciate the many who perused and the few who commented (just my luck, I live in a world of words and leave everyone speechless... budumdum)... we could head for a true confessions type blog entry now, or even some sappy romantic poetry, but instead I'll just give you a clear demonstration of why it takes a certain odd temperament and slightly off kilter perspective to put up with my peculiar humors and babbling style by presenting, for your perusal and my egocentric amusement, the balance that keeps me from going over the edge with altruistic pessimistic raps that pound pondering into the ground along with most gentle hearts (I refer, of course, to the previous entry, which represents but one extreme of the roller coaster that I've been riding through the last dozen or so entries and yes, of course that's a subtle encouragement for you to go back and read more)...

now all (or at least a large portion of) cynicism aside, what we have here in this particular entry is a taste of what you might see if you add me and write a poem or essay or profile that intrigues me... yes, I hear music from many minds and, at times, reflect the sounds in comments in other people's spaces... in other words:

and as the opening prose and rhyme reiterate (not that I'm beyond being redundant, after all), what we have here are voices from other rooms, comments inspired by blogs I stumbled into in recent days... an eclectic few, no doubt, but deserving equal praise in my book (and they'll get it if I ever write it)... perhaps you know them, I think you should... we start (suddenly, as the drumroll and fanfare is left for the babbling place) with Andy, who is the inspiration for the first verse (a specific thought stream, though he flows in many)... read his words if you enjoy poetry in the buff, naked emotions spread eagle in words... I love how his prolific creativity flows, raw, like a bleeding rose... and so I said:

so you are just the exceptionally gifted pierced and tattooed punk rock daddy with a heavy metal heart and a poet's soul and your head banging crew doesn't always understand why children love you the most, but the kids all know that you love them so (wait, that's Casper's theme song... ah, the irreverent mind strikes again)... just as seriously though, if not moreso, check out Andy... if you think you can stand a little more truth from the heart in your life...

and then (just as suddenly) we come to Amy (yes, an Amy from NY, no less... can the world be getting smaller again?... but we'll leave that long and winding road, quite literally, for another time when I repeat the Zoë search {which came off with fractally mixed reviews, especially from the Zoes} with the ultimate power ballad search for the elusive amy of dreams {as opposed to Dia of dreams a couple of entries back} and other blogs cuz once in love... ya know?) who wrote about physical appearances and you know, if you've read around, that I've got quite the bipolar perspective on the subject... so it probably doesn't surprise you that I wrote the following comment to the post (what a way to introduce myself, aye?)...

I've had a love-hate relationship with physical appearances ever since I can remember (maybe it was being told how gorgeous I was by my very biased family from before I even knew the meaning of the word until well past puberty... part of me never believed them, but ego lapped it up like a drunk in a vat of wine, and somewhere in my head I both resented ego for enjoying it so much and laughing at ego for the same reason... hmmm, is there a clinical label for someone who relates to his ego in the third person?)...

I am serious most of the time, even when I am mocking myself and all the world (I just enjoy the seriousness more when it's woven into an irreverent tapestry of carefree tangents... or maybe I enjoy watching others try to figure out where and when I might be serious as I distract myself and most everyone else by wandering off on circular paths of introspection and self-analysis under the guise of introducing myself)... stare into the headlights...

I think humor, humility, honesty, and a healthy perspective and lifestyle are beautiful... I also think sex is beautiful, but since it didn't start with an h, I mention it separately... looking for a reason for this could lead far from the point...

ah, ever the closet hedonist...

ha! another h... but back a bit closer to the subject of your post (cuz that is why I stopped by), throughout this life I have generally made little effort at what, in our culture, is commonly considered prettying myself up... it's not an anti-western culture thing, I wouldn't wear plates in my lips if I was Ubangi either... I simply mock the whole superficiality of judgment by appearances by generally looking like the anti-christ or the common bum (of course I might just be intellectualizing sheer laziness and an immature attitude about soap and water... wait, I actually love to shower and feel all squeaky clean, so to be more accurate, I prefer to be naked)...

and yet will admit my hypocritical libido (here we go talking about parts of the brain in the third person again) leads me to feel much more sexually stimulated by a body that is athletic and much more sexually turned off by a body that is apathetic about itself, bloated, lazy, and lethargic (redundant as that may seem)... rationally I justify libido by proposing that Darwin was right on this point, at least, and instinctively I am more interested in producing an offspring with someone who appreciates and cares for their body as well as humanly possible, but even that may be commercial programming in the end... baring my soul or showing my ass?... you decide...

have I drifted from the point too much yet?...

as you see, I tend to babble, even when presenting myself for first impression... I figure if I must put a muzzle on (or dress up my thoughts), I'm not saying hello comfortably and may be giving a false impression... lying, even... I prefer not to do that...

so in conclusion (seriously?), if there is diamond of sorts in this rough babbling fool, anyone is welcome to dig around for it... and if it's all just a pile of coal, well, kids like me enjoy playing in it (and therein I find my friends :)

this was a response to your blog (in case you weren't sure :)

hope you are smiling, even if you are scratching your head...  and if the new picture is you (and not just a tribute to the curves of life), then I hope the baby is beautiful in your eyes, no matter what it looks like :)

luckily (depending on your perspective), an extra two days off this week gives me more web wandering and commenting time (yes, you already noticed, thanks :)

I noticed, as I read your profile, that you are in love... yay for love... not being one to intrude, I will simply fall in love with your wonderfully positive attitude, diverse talents, interesting perspectives, and, at least to my ears, delightfully wonder-filled honesty and playful sensitivity in your voice...

read into my history and [you'll see that] your name probably helps, but by any name you are a big smile in my eyes (arentcha glad I didn't stoop to the rose metaphor? :)

hope life is (and you are) smiling tonight and may tomorrow be even better :)

and in the grand finale for this particular entry, I segue to yet another sudden applause sign for yet another gifted person and blogger... I give you the world famous (or infamous, in certain circles), Acharyas of truth be known fame... I wonder if she knew what she was getting herself into when she sent me an add request (shhh, giggling is not polite until we're sure the giggles are shared)... if only I'd let her healthy attitude influence me (don't look now, but there's another or few new bloggers who, in recent days, scratched below the surface of my complacent sedentary malaise, but we'll leave them for another entry, perhaps, especially if if I let myself get back to the gym and remember where the inspirations came from)... and (from another track in my multi-track mind (mpd, me?... we don't think so!), I should not tease Serenity by pointing her to a potentially kindred spirit as close as blogspot, so I won't (cuz I do enough in her comments, which will come 'round in yet another other entry, for sure)...

I did not cut and paste the comments I left for Acharya S. which may be my way of nudging you to click (what, me proselytize?... oh if you could only hear the laughter in the peanut gallery {joined by Precious and Dreamer, who sometimes sit and watch me type and wonder just how I can see the keyboard or screen with my head spinning 'round, and who'd likely love the dear Acharya if they took the time to stumble cross her} and maybe you have to be in my head or close to me to understand)... the comfortably happy agnostic finds amusement in spending more than a phew moments (no typo, layered meaning) pondering or fretting over that which is beyond the life we can share (but only a very brief phew) for I know I am secure in what I accept on faith and I'd rather focus most of my time and energy on the life we can share as long as we are here...

and in conclusion, abruptly and seemingly from out of nowhere as many entries that flow from and to fifty directions are apt to do, but as meaningful as my previous fantasies about Anna Paquin (wait, that was in my daily babbling blog {as opposed to the daily real time blog}... so many fantasies, so many blogs, so many words, so little time), no less sudden than anything else, I want to hear her sing...

breath now