not that I'm thinking of starting a TV show about fixing up an old computer, mind you, but I am sort of musing (or is that lamenting?) about this old computer just now... there I was, ready to dive into the comment free-for all at a blog dutifully written quite regularly by one of my favorite online people (who I missed meeting offline by this much [insert picture of thumb and forefinger about an inch apart] just a few months ago) and kerash!... yes, old computers don't just crash, they KERASH!... sometimes in all caps...

so here I am back in my vacuum cuz the word processing software doesn't crash nearly as much as the browser (and it auto-saves every few minutes... hmmm, auto-save...  that reminds me of Milla Jovovich saying auto-wash in that irresistible baby-talk she put on {not to mention her choice of wardrobe} for her breathtaking role in The Fifth Element which really turns me on in various ways, but that's not what I came here to ramble on about tonight because, contrary to what might be popular belief, cyber sex has been done and got old before half the people came... but still, two really hot females have started off this entry and ignore the natural instincts I will not)...

as usual, I dutifully (the word seems to be popular tonight) popped my daily blog entry into my daily blog (over at blogspot, the one with mundane details, pitiful whining, excruciating emo, and a myriad of stupid human tricks that would be rejected by the Letterman producers, but usually really actually {dutifully?} happen to me in my real life that happens to be happening to me in the offline world almost all the time... I do not mention it too often {I hope} because it would completely tarnish my image as some sort of cool creative casually sexy sycophant of myspace and all you loving loyal fans might run away or see me as approachable, even, and we couldn't have that, right?)...

hey, what can I say, sometimes it's rhymes, sometimes it's babble, sometimes it's altruistic and sometimes it's egocentric, sometimes it's profound poetic prose disguised as Dr. Seuss or the ravings of a madman and sometimes it's just the ravings of a madman disguised as enigmatic abstract and mostly obscure nonsense that seems to drone on and on about this and that and the other thing without reaching any easily recognizable point or conclusion except to for idiot savants or those in an advanced stage of syphallus, or syphilis for that matter... it's a crap shoot in my mind and you are welcome to it...

could be that the TV provided background noises and visuals in the form of Starman and Serenity today and V For Vendetta on the side that has my mind wandering as if it's fixing a hole where the rain's getting in, but then, it could be just coincidence or maybe even Michael Moore playing Sicko on Larry King Live while I was dutifully (again, even) pumping legs (and a touch of iron) at the gym tonight or we can always blame it on the moon, which was quite full of itself tonight too...

I am not sure if I ever get egocentric or self-righteous just right, not because I am so humble or modest or anything, but I confuse the two and that gets me to laughing and laughter just kills the whole egocentric self-righteous mood so the image deflates like a water balloon and gets all old and wrinkled like granny coming out of the hot tub (after she fell asleep for an hour or so and may have had a lower intestinal accident, but that's a discharge we need not pursue no matter how desperate we are for distraction, especially since I think the visual already did it's part in spreading the irony out to the edges of the bread)...

might as well be watching Fiddler on the Roof... but before we get all teary-eyed and risk an early-morning-raid by the emo-police (or even the hyphen-patrol), I shall return to the stream of consciousness splashing around about three paragraphs into this entry and continue as if the last two paragraphs never happened... ready?... yes, well, after the daily blog gig, I was still as full of words as the energizer bunny is full of, well, energy, and so I came here to myspace to dissolve into a comment-smearing pie-throwing phallic-extending party and just as I was catching up on the previously deposited comments (is it wrong to read the comments before reading the entry?), I was evicted because my RAM is too small...

and kind people like to claim that size does not matter... don't let them fool you kids, get as much RAM as you can, the bigger the better, or you too will be left out of the reindeer games and other parties... remember, RAM power can get you in anywhere, even if you just want to watch... but, alas and alack (and I lack a lot), this old computer is RAM deficient, it has a tiny little RAM that barely gets it up to speed and keeps it far from the fast lane, no less the jet set... so as I sit here with grandiose ideas of becoming one of the gang, maybe even popular, I must face the cold hard truth of my inadequacies... my RAM is too small to satisfy her needs and the needs of most other comment magnets out there... so, as I fleetingly lurk in the shadows of their shining stars and while I may covet their popularity and feel quite inadequate in my weaker moments, deep down I know it's not me, it's this old computer and in the end, they may never know I exist...

at least they'll never know it also suffers from premature memory overflow...

oh pppplease...