Finish Up Now: Appreciate Twenty-Five Out Of Ten (FUN AT FOOT)™
I’d think almost everybody has “played footsie” at some time or another; it’s where your foot and someone else’s foot have bumped into one another — these feet of ours which we own since they belong to us are not separate entities, mind you, but we tend to talk or even think of them as being some sort of units that do whatever they do — tell your feet to get movin’, will ya? I’d also think almost anyone would have used the expression to describe having some sort of interaction with another one, as playing footsie with them. Usually we’d think playing footsie has no sinister purpose. It might not be true, but we should expect footsie to be innocent, and childlike, both in outward appearance and also in whatever “inner beauty” it has to be found by “delving” or “looking” deeper. Of course, if souls are imaginary, there is nothing deeper, and looking into her eyes, or his eyes, tells you nothing at all. You imagine all of it, since you are not real either.
I’m not playing footsie with anyone. Not anymore. I do like to have fun, but not by pretending to be playing some pointless game. That (footsie for real) would be pointless.
My mind sometimes catches on something, like an old dream that I once had. Instead of recurring dreams, which I have also had a few of in my earlier life mostly, the thing that I have had more of than it seems worth having is dreams that were vivid, or bizarre, or both, and not disturbing so much as utterly fascinating in terms of “why did I dream about that?” and not being able to stop wondering about it. Even now, some fifty-ish years later, I remember one very vivid dream, involving the boy actor who played Jeff on the early TV series involving that heroic canine Thespian, Lassie. He (Tommy Rettig) was seen in my dream to be one of the two other crucified humans at Calvary on that hill, far away, long ago, on that day. Weird, sooooo weird that I cannot stop “seeing it” even now. His eyes were closed. His hands were nailed. He looked like he was asleep, with his head dropped to the side so that he could smell his own right armpit. He was not breathing so he had no sense of smell. He was dead. The image, in my mind, has a stench of its own.
Since the title implies there should be twenty-five out of ten, I will in this post complete my assignment of twenty-five things, to put up at FaceBook in toto (that dog was somebody else, in this case of not being in Kansas anymore). These are the final ten “Things about me” at random or within some other vague theme, such as “Random” or “You might not know” about me. You might, you might not. These are the final ten, that are not the same as the first six-plus-nine-is-fifteen that I already did. Many words, and quite a lot more than twenty-five words (or less) in this list.
Had I stayed on-task (which often I do not) these summarized items would already be here, or on my FaceBook wall, or both. Instead, I will partially catch up both unassigned assignments, and hopefully if I need to do it I’ll actually put all twenty-five in one documant, with footnotes, and fancy free! 
1. No iPod — technology is ego-tripping crap-trap
2. Guitar player — “Do It Yourself” person
3. Sarcasm — contain bridled anger == frustration
4. Self-amused — laughs at own bad jokes
5. Verbosity — mental/verbal obesity perhaps
6. Slowly determined — takes the long way home7. Odd physiology — #7 lines on palms like Grandma R.
8. Part-type paraplegic — one-handed lefty typist
9. Multiple talents — if any of them are, we have
10. Second born advantage — it is normal this way
11. Somewhat secretive — never tell all that I know
12. Complicator — I tend to expound details, absurdly
13. My best friend died — it was in 1975
14. Divorced unwillingly — I do not fully accept it
15. Defers thing for another — reprioritizing on the fly
The ten finish-it-off items will be these, but expanding them into words may come later, or not later. Sooner is sometimes better than later, and sometimes never is actually better!
16. I could make a pet of almost any animal, but it would be wrong in nearly every case (e.g. spiders).
17. I learned long ago that people are necessary, yet troublesome. Loneliness is really just another type of self-awareness. Inside the skin, each of us is alone, unless we feel the presence of God here on the inside (Ghoti==fish).
18. I was severly shy as a child. Mother’s skirt was the best place to hide at family gatherings.
19. I am the second child of my father and mother, born one Saturday in winter, after false alarms. No hurry, me.
20. Friendships, new or old, do not actually die. They have often gone to sleep, and not awakened.
21. I still miss our very first family cat (Stubby) who moved to Oregon with us in 1955. He was not home anymore, when we came back from vacation that year we had so much fun at Disneyland. I may have vacation-phobia for all I know.
22. I could play wordplay all day, and starve to death in a few weeks.
23. At one time I weighed nearly 190 lbs. Today I’d be surprised to find out I weigh anything, even though I know I do. Sometimes, gravity is just too much, people!
24. I love chocolate, peanuts (or butter thereof), cheese, onions, and several other food items that some people either hate, cannot have due to ill effects, are allergic to, and so forth. I will often try strange combinations, but I have not even considred chocolate onions. Not even now am I thinking that!
25. Twenty-five is a lot of things, when you have to just pop them out and be sure none are duplicates!
–g♥
Music posted last night at FaceBook is on the next part of this WordPress posting, so follow the click-spot to the field of extra stuff!
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Catch Up Some Things Of Mine (CUSTOM)™
Everyone has certain habitual tendencies, some of which seem so deeply ingrained that it would be impossible to change them. It was my pleasure at one time to work closely with an Engineer who understood this about people, and his simple analysis of this fact involved no personality disorder, phobia, mania, or other head-shrink target for remedial work. The way my friend Terry put it was simple: everyone has a different metabolism. That is simple, true, and pretty much unalterable. We’ll never match up everybody’s metabolic rates and efficiencies. That would be nice, and we might be wise to work in that direction for the benefit of it, but expecting to achieve that completely is not realistic. Even with all of our similarities, humans will always have great variations among ourselves, which have good purposes and should not be eliminated. We eventually learn, repeatedly, that we are not the masters of this world.
My FaceBook activity is not diminishing yet, but my inner voice is saying that it must, and forestalling the inevitable is foolish. My own father always says once you know what you’re going to do next, you should do it. Waiting is never the best choice (for him). On the other hand, I actually have a “sense of timing” that I have to obey, even if it sometimes seems to be wrong, and usually that means I am late. Then, I become the White Rabbit. Soon I will post something about that, since I just found online a copy of that classic in PDF format, so I’ve downloaded that to use for transcribing (hand-typing) portions of that old favorite of mine and many other people. Go ask Alice, in a little while, we shall indeed!
Meanwhile, to catch up the media-sharing (songs in mp3 format) the has not been posted to this blog, where it more fairly represents “returning to the wife of my youth” in terms of who or what I spend my time and attention, with and on, and so forth. The blog is really what has kept me going the past few years, and the small number of readers, while somewhat distressing to me personally in terms of self-doubt, has been my staple, my sustenance, my reason to go on (with life itself, shockingly) and not despise my lot.
The music player (on the following click-through portion of this post) has only those songs I posted on my own wall, and not others’ walls. You’d have to understand the FaceBook model of social interaction to get what that means, but the writing is on the wall. So are the photos, the comments, the wisecracks, the complains, and so forth. It is just another type of virtual zoo-forum, for hypocritical hyperactive cyber-monkeys unlike or even just like me! But my jungle is here, in my own little garden of the blog world. If I can figure out which other songs I put on other walls, I’ll add them on here or the next post. Don’t want anyone to miss a thing, no sirree!
Additionally note that one of them is somewhat unusual (for me on here particularly) in that it is not music, but is instead the reading of another persons created work, and is well worth the 15 minutes it takes to listen. It sounds like I would’ve liked to have attended that “concert” up in Canada, but it happened under my big nose. 
) So the first player is the music, and the second is the beddy-bye story for just after prayers.
If you make me love you, you cannot make me stop. You only get to change me once. That is all.
Turn the page and play these fourteen (14!) tunes plus one tail (!) NOW (before you get old, like me!) 
(Last minute developments: Only 13 tunes are here out of 14, for now, since one of the file names includes a comma (,) and it breaks the chain, so for now, the Sunshine, Lollipops & Rainbows should be after the Pentiums, and your imagination will provide)
–g♥ –> move it, troop! –> ♫♪ • hup! • toop! • treep! • forp! • HALT! • • (stomp stomp) ♫♪♪♫♪ ♥ –>
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True And Real (TAR)™
Tar really is not easy to paint on pictures, pop. Make that trine-t-pop. Never mind the acrostics, they will simpley “happen” mostly, and I will not try to adjust my words just to make Pretty acronyms, Pa. Same for Polite admonisments, Pointed anagrams, Papa. Politcal adverstising, Personal ambitions, Private admirations, Pa-Pa-Pa. These things happen all the time. T-that-t, do you see?
Like attracts like. These are semi-wise words by the guide with semi-wise words. If you like to believe you are right in everything you think, and the confusion is not inside of you, listen to Dr. Dwyer, who will share his knowlege of inner self while he helps himself to your inner wallet. If you are a woman, you have another “wallet” that he might want, but since he is unlike you, the woman, he should not be attracted to that lady-wallet of yours, which has no money in it anyway. Thus, his interest in both of your wallets might be suspect, and not a case of Like being attracted by Like. Wayne knows what *he* likes, but not what you do. He wants you to believe in him, however. That much is probably how he thinks we are all alike. I’ll grant him that much. I realized this when I was about seven years old and never thought about how cool it would be to make more money than the others just because I’m smart enough to delude them all. Good job there, Dr. Feel-dumb, the friendly shrink. Suck that money, funny hole-man. I remember Jesus always hung around the other Messiahs, as they tended to Like one another quite a lot more than the rest of us. Blessed Are The “Like Unto Me People” — it brings another BAT LUMP™ in my throat today. For they shall inherit ME! Gulp, I spilled a drop.
(Shat loves shat, shet-shet, shot-shot, and shut-shut even more, DOK-TORE In Wayne-poo makes my drier-shoe shoot slick streamers skyward!)
My sister tricked me into eating money when we were toddlers and mom was doing something else, like brushing her teeth, vacuuming, or cooking dinner. There was always another load of laundry. Maybe she overslept that morning, and could NOT get up at 5:30 AM again to stay ahead of her early riser, “that girl” in action, as usual, no rest with her around. My sleeping patterns have often gotten interruped by someone or something, as far back as I can remember. That happens to be pretty far. I can still remember looking out from behind the bars of my crib. I still remember chewing on the wooden armrest of that day-bed thing they moved me to after I got larger. I do not remember chewing on the crib, but they told me my teeth weren’t in yet, so I only sucked on my crib. Crib sucker, that’s me. You want me to suck on your crib? How big is it? What color? I often will test-suck almost anything. Normally it is just to see if air will flow through it. I have been studying fluidics and flow technologies from the day I was born, and most people do not realize how far ahead of them that puts me. It is not my self-assessment, as much as an observation and compilation of facts. I notice when others do not, and that very thing makes me want to pay even more attention, like that game “I Spy” which is not the TV series with Robert Culp and Bill Cosby. It is a “real game for children” and adults who love children. You try to find something that is hidden in plain sight. Slight of hand, with no motion, you might say. Optical illusion, mostly. Cannot see the tree which I cleverly hid in this forest of other trees, can you? Didn’t think so, since I hid it in plain sight, you’ll never see it by looking for it. You have to look for something “out of place” and trees actually do belong in the forest, so it’s the perfect hiding place for my one special trees. It will look just like all the others! Surely you can see how effective this is: hide among the natives.
Apparently my sister showed me the way to the land of eating money. Poor mom had to make sure that it all came through me okay, and I did not realize then what an unpleasant duty that was. But I know for a fact, I would make a great house pet now, because I have been paper-trained. I can hit the front page with my stuff, every single time, and nothing spills. I prefer to go for the sports page, when I am really giving it my gut reaction, since that is the action page. And everyone knows that sports is a tough and dirty business, and it is SERIOUS about itself. Pretty much like Jesus, except for the self-absorbed part. He was more community minded, but hated large crowds, who often required him to talk without any pay.
Poor guy. I don’t even want to know how hard he had it. I don’t even want to think about most of the things he had to go through. As I understand it, he was the oldest brother in his family, and yet he was not obsessively mean-spirited like so many of them, or subversively cunning like many other older siblings. I do not know what goes wrong for some first-born children, but they almost do not have a chance, or they ruin the special ones that they have, as first born children.
One thing the firstborn has is the chance to be kind to all of his or her younger siblings. This should not be the exception to the rule, but the underlying principle is simple: if you were here first, why should you put up with any newcomers? If you do not want company, then tell the interlopers to leave. You have more rights than they do, as the first-come, first-serve king of slobovia. Imagine what it is like to have the dominant personality, and then be the only child? That probably sets up an addional internal battle, just so the lone child can have fun beating up the weaker self. Sounds pretty sick. That person should become a professional think-expert, and teach the rest of us how to see things wrong, too. Often, that is exactly what Dr. Spock does: misguide the women, who actually have to put up with the bad advice he gave.
And their offspring, who go springing off in natural abandon, to figure it all out for themselves all over again, after listening to mother and father squabble about who knows best. I’ll tell you who knows best it this world: The Street, and all your children’s wild and crazy friends who are infallible with their opinions and other bodily functions.
That’s who is running this ship aground. Rich kids who grew up greedy and hungry, and poor folks who want to be just like them. They (the humans with carnal hearts) are ruining it further and further every day. Some of them will show you how to turn your money into their dreams, when some of us are actually starving now, with college degrees, and bad attitudes about getting any reward in this life.
Continuing as we do, it can’t take very much longer. Turn to stone. Freeze in place. Grab on to something tied down. We’re going to get blown away, again. You might figure sooner rather than later. Yet if you want, you may simply party down, dudes.
Too many words again. What value do any of them have? Unread, they are worthless. Misunderstood, they are meaningless. Found offensive, they are failed intentions. Overall, that makes failed intentions effectively equal to intentional failures.
So, I meant to end up this miserable. As the failure, I am therefor not miserable, since I missed my goal to be miserable. Now, I am unhappy about by happiness. I did not want this much happiness, which is the misery I expected. I wanted to fail at this part too, so the rest of it would be thematically consistent, like that blog the stranger from Oregon (Hannah) had on WordPress. We almost became friends, but I said some stupid thing, I know I did. I do that a lot. Here I am, doing it again. Time to shut up and take another nap, after I put some songs on the second page of this.
This, my instantly revealing insanity rant which fails to finish the job. This one.
–g♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ –> go listen to them ♫ ♪ ♫
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