Just Ask Me?… Any Questions!

Of Roads, Neighbors, And Water Lines

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Posted by John, the Squabbler at 7:35 AM – 5 Comments   Add a Comment   
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OK! I am alive and well and those are the beginnings of my return. I was not waiting for you to say something so nice as that, but I will grant you… that you and this palace are a very firm foundation in my presumption of innocence in the bystander lane of the competition to find the heaviest gravity and the greater depth of the glass before me.

I am daft, of course, and not swayed by your convection, but the clouds of unknowing are becalmed and misty to the touch. We are again at a crossroads…but, but, but, we are still “motive segundo”, and highly unlikely_ in the aforementioned dispensation_ to unwind the stem of the timepiece before us, but I certainly_’AM’!_ happy to once again appear upon your pages as a servant to the true nature of convenient thinking.

What the ‘web’ provides…I will, of course, allude to the subtle drone of the tympany. Our orchestra is struck and the dome is still. There is much to do, but first, I must sleep, and then wake enough to
afford my prize. A new start and no certain end in sight.

Back from vacation since the 27th of July, but all kinds of stuff imforms the present with further deeds of demonstration. I am obligated to other things, but no less the needy, for lack of our patrol. Love you, man. This_ is_ a great part of my sense of time and place. See you soon. I have read all , but not “all”, but it is always too short to stay, and be.

Not sure about anything, but really I am well, as are the family, and we persevere and go forward toward new ground, which is really old ground… well, way more appreciated for what life brings, than for what is missing. Hit and miss…streaming out of the void. Unknown to me is the bright light at the end of the tunnel. I keep seeing beauty in the most unlikely moments. The constancy of discernment… Foregiveness and the breath of life breathing worlds of fully orchestrated remnants of the time-piece flowing in sound and light.
fabricated by spirit to lift up the world. Clobbered here, by the knowing that you will read anything by me_ for what I can’t see.

Yet, I know your faith is true and a wonderful wing to my prayers.
We have true faith in the world. What of it_ that has not chosen death…to deserve the least of the gifts of belief in something greater than our own mere reflection in the glass of ego.

Smoke and mirrors…I am off to dream land and more …I am home to the next snail darter convention for environmental servitude. We are broken, but we are voting soon. We will certainly get the best of our least intended consequence.

I have done this before. I am daft and driven to sleep by the charm of knowing that you will find in this the nut of your next request. John of the magic noodle and the wooden mentor of the timeless motives of the great squabbly one. I am called sleep and I must not pretend, but go directly to bed. Night and Say what! Soon to be here,TR Cool!

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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Thursday August 7, 2008 @ 3:56 AM   (del)

Well, happy I am to see you back, TR, though I’ve left it a bit late this morning. I’m on my way out the door – an early job we couldn’t get to last night, and Elizabeth is tapping her bare foot on my carpet, anxious to leven the day. So we shall, and I will tell her about you on the way.

Welcome back. I feel a posting coming on – building up behind my dam of wood, and surely by this evening it will burst.

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by John, the Squabbler (PM , CC ) on Thursday August 7, 2008 @ 7:39 AM

OK, so TR was definately here. I didn’t imagine it. Whatcha doin,’ old boy? I am craving your thoughts on a few matters. |<   <<   >>   >|

by John, the Squabbler (PM , CC ) on Monday August 11, 2008 @ 6:41 PM

Hey! John, Let us go forth in to the great beyondo of beyondoes.

That was a striking picture of the_ ‘Elizabeth’. My mind is slaked from thirst and trepidation. Making up a beginning_ That is so hard to do. I think she looks lovely and innocent and true, and I would not do a thing to evolve any lower demonstration of her effect upon my eyes. For she is more than sight seen…she is modeled alacrity and diverted attention. There is no pretention_only pure dignity of spirit and kind. Lovely though she is _ She is_ in person_ perfect in every way of being_ For her sight is seeing herself gathered into form and filaments of wondorous energies_ sublime and intact.

Enough_ to have said, too much, but more is present_Imformed and filmed in this homage to the presence of simple direct and persuasive form. I am filled as always with otherness, beyond my ken. So actually__Wassup? my man.

My main tendrils of personality and conscience are not this conflicted dwarf, but the perfection of perfect form filling voids of purely driven aptitudes. Not to offend through dwarfish allusion.
I am a brother to and will constant call all forms and feigns to apprise my present word song to the rivulets of husky heard and lazy
dream images of waifs and nymphs and myphets_ and the aggrandizement of the secular philosophy of:

‘We broke it, Let’s move on_
Who me! Can’t fix it!’

Whatever could this mean? It is the dark_ to my lightening spirit.
I am folded into the time warp of not loving what I do, so that I might learn to love and have the grace to be whole and complete. Something to hold my place…for now.

John_ It is like this…I am not at home, but I am. Right now …I am waiting for my wife to walk in…from work. Last night_ I made dinner…very good. Tonight_ I did not. Such is life…I took a nap and drove daughter to dance. And work, of course.

Back_ to a lot of things…I have been reading_ all and you sir are a wonder and I wish to always know your kindness…for you have the world in the palm of your regard. It shines brightly and humorously in the light of the proceedings here. We are a fine band of shoulders and hands and lips and faces and spirit. We blend so well together.

Who? (one would) would think driving down the highway_ any highway that there were people like yourself, or anyone, like us. I wonder if anyone out there, on a bus or plane or subway ever tried to extend onto the page in front of them words of something outside the norm of being readily convinced that there is a payoff in the belief of the magic of form and formation. Making the breath to speak to the call of gentle persuasion. Just existing sweetly in the moment of “Is”. I answered my own question. There is nothing ‘Knew’ under the sun, except this. There is a spore of truth here. Bink!

True_to the waiting for_the holding of _ the giving to_ someone/or something_ other than_ the expected outcome_ of our efforts. I don’t know how this will fall, but it will fill and find a place here, because_ you have been so kind as to lend me your ear.

I don’t know who I am or where I go, but there is something about the discovery of the beauty of just being_ that is to eventually find me celebrating what I have found. Fulfillment. Here. Is. Light. Love.

So for now, my friend I must split and go into the yard to complete tasks of the ‘summer soldier’. I love the gardening, but it is
‘time there and not here, but I would not have it any other way’.

Eventually, I will come to a voice of my own, that is collected and perfectly adroit, but for now I am a map of undiscovered requests.

What were your questions?…Maybe that quiz could heal my parts. TR

As Always, All my best and to everyone who reads…How di do! BYE

I feel I am a ‘silly girl’ to doubt my manly pretentions.
There is no anger in my heart. It is a soft and safe place to fall, when I am lonely. All that can be humanly done is moving forward, but the world seems to want danger and deception. All i want is music and love and truth. running on now….To send…See ya soon

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by trust the rust (PM , CC ) on Tuesday August 12, 2008 @ 10:59 PM   (del)

I was going to do a light-hearted post on time passing, TR, but I ran out of time. You should see her in a bikini – it’ll melt your heart. I was looking for a particular picture of a landscape so I could restore it to my desktop. My boy had decided to replace it with some goofy pop culture thingy and I had no idea where I had put the actual file. But I came across some of the pictures I had taken in the winter. It felt as if a crow passed over my grave. Oh they were bleak! And here it comes. If you want the season to change just wait a while. Change is the ultimate inevitable of all Nature. They say death and taxes – or that is Ben Franklin – rubbish. It’s change that really occurs, beginnings and endings happen as we see fit to mark their occasion – like birthday milestones – is it a 0 year or a 5 year? – Who cares? Change continues. But I can click on the little numbers at the bottom of my page and revisit winter. It seems like yesterday. In October Elizabeth and I were heading up a seasonal road which I knew would be closed by the first snow of the season, and it was so beautiful I had to squeeze in at least one more trip, in case I should die before the springtime opened it again. We were talking. I was just beginning to know her. And The Lady dropped in unexpectedly to wish me a happy birthday. I know precisely which posts in my archives served as accompaniment to those events. I was basically saying the same sorts of things I am saying now.

Traveling to Binghampton at some point – soon – to purchase a decent Mac Audio amplifier. Last night, music. The mind fills in the details. Remember Lo-Fidelity? Did it matter when we were kids? No. We listened to our favorite music on shit speakers and our minds made it seem like we were at the concert. In the car it is like that. Some of these car companies offer a Bose system with eight speakers squirreled away here and there, but you still have to pretend it sounds good. Bose = No Lows. Daughter still dancing? That’s good. It seems like ages since we spoke.

You know I’m being interviewed again? I didn’t know anybody was doing that, but I suppose it’s so. I hardly ever stick my head out of the White Lodge anymore.

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by John, the Squabbler (PM , CC ) on Wednesday August 13, 2008 @ 7:36 AM

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