Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

by the sea
wine dark with mystery
I walked the shore
listening to the siren's call

"somebody up there likes you"

I miss somebody, Jack.

I always miss you when you are not around. Lately, I been missing myself. I know that sounds weird but I don't know who I am anymore.

I miss me and you
and me and you are like some whole other person, plus I miss you and then I do miss me sometimes.

Watched this tonight and it really got it's fingers reached down inside me.

http://artsites.ucsc.edu/GDead/agdl/stephen.html

Hello, Jack. A few first thoughts from today were like these small little flirts and then they were gone. It was like a scuffle with a petticoat, ruffling away behind the curtain.

The bird of my youth.

I don't care which pill I take, whether blue or red, because I've no known experience with that, but what I do care about is what side of the mushroom I eat. Today, do I trample you under my feet or do I fit like a little candy sweet in your pocket, very important information to be considering.

If you met me and I met you, then we'd be together.
Made me think of Winnie the Pooh.

I had to google Walter, another world I know nothing about.

Somebody once wrote a book or a play called "I never cried for my father" reading mingo's jane letter on the story board at S8 and thinking about a reply got me to wondering "Do I have any compassion for the dead?"

It is good to cry for oneself I suppose, I know I have. but then you got to get up and walk like a man. Or if you are a woman I suppose you got to walk more carefully because those high heels can be treacherous

I been listening to this a couple times this morning
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W_c8jwiuKxY
speaking or writing and thinking about compassion for the lost, are the dead the same as lost? I would like to think my loved ones are just dead, but not lost.

"you are always a woman to me" what ever side you are on.
I am grateful for that.

Here is the source for the avatar, yes Calvin is always studying gurls, because the most powerful person in his life is a gurl.

The mother is the first awesome miracle that haunts the child his whole life, whether he lives within her powerful aura or rebels against it." The Denial of Death. Ernest Becker

hugs from downtown petticoat junction

click image to enlarge

We're like two dirty horses
battling, batting eyes, batman and batwomaning
in the Spring.

do you try and figure it out?
I read you, you read me
sometimes we understand
Sometimes I just wonder what you mean
I play the spirit game
go with what I think
what I write in reply to what you write.
Sometimes I edit myself sometimes I don't
giddy up go

Yes, I was replying to your calvin and hobbes having his battle with the girls.
Of course I read you, meanie. I was just mentioning that we are wild and we are fighting or flirting.

the mousey one says she is not mad at me anymore.
I am too autistic to flirt. I try not to make that mistake again.

she also said I pander to women. I think john daily has a bit about "making women nod" maybe so

"Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect"
You are a better reader than I am. You bring out the best in me.
thank you.

We just have learned to speak in quiet embraces and sweet hushes,
it's ours for the taking and the making.

You don't make me nod until you're talking to politicians and then I sit on the bench in the park with a picnic lunch near-by, wondering, heavily, why ever you're with them and not me.
neener neener

You always bring me with you
and I'm the one getting drunk and eating all the food at each interpretation.
No wonder, we knows everything is ours.
That's delightful to me.

mystery to me
just my vanity makes me think I understand politics.