Forming thought. Fragments. Wondering. Dreaming. Wishing. Scanning the horizon as time lapsed highway lights flicker by. (A recurring image used to mighty good effect in Boys Don't Cry, BTW.) Random. Rambling. Thinking.

An old Ozzy tune going through my head the other night. One I have heard repeatedly for years gone by, and sometimes pondered the philosophy behind it. Popping in the cd now.

I don't want to change the world
I don't want the world to change me

Curious.

I have way too many cds. Way too many. When I try to consider how long it would take to listen to them all back to back.... the mind boggles. Nuts.

Time have changed
And times are strange
Here I come but I ain't the same
Mama I'm comin home

Hmmm, maybe not too many. Music. It's the soundtrack to life, ya know? Without it, life would be pretty bland, I think. It's gotta be one of the top 10 reasons that life itself can be called worthwhile.

Well, it would seem that despite the fact that Rage has been back up for quite some time again, my volume of ramblings output is still significantly lower. Of course, there were some reasons previously outlined, but it's also... a lot have my thoughts have been outside the realm of linguistic confines.

Or when I try to capture what I'm thinking -- feeling, by putting it into the form of words, the ideas vaporize almost instantaniously. So I think, "Well, maybe if I give it time to let things solidify a bit, it will get somewhere. Let's leave it alone." But of course, that doesn't happen. It's like there's one missing ingredient. Once that gets added, things will come together. The puzzle will make sense. I will have clarity. But what is that missing ingredient?

Or maybe all of the above is a neat sounding mental construct made up on-the-fly in an attempt to rationalize away plain old garden variety stagnation. Blah.

I had a wacky idea this evening: Start up a "fake" web journal somewhere. Totally different url. Different design. Nothing on the page to reflect who is really the author. A work of fiction. Make up a whole bunch of fake events, put all my dreams, my wishes, my nightmares into it. Bitscape's alter ego of a life. Yeah, great idea.

Should I ever attempt such an undertaking, I think the biggest challenge would be to make in consistent and believable. But maybe there's no way it could be believable if all of the stuff listed above were there. Oh well. It's just a thought. I doubt that I seriously have enough sustained desire to construct such a project to actually go through with it. Hell, I barely even manage to keep this page up. The so-called "active development version" hasn't had a code change in... how long? I don't remember. Pitiful. lol.

I was idly reading through Salon tonight. (Ya know, the thing ya do when you're kind of bored and out of sorts, but don't feel like expending the energy to actually find new undiscovered web venues.) Anyway, reading away, and one statement just caught me, and I stopped for a minute. Depressing as hell. This article. Second paragraph from the bottom on the first page. The sentence in which the word "music" occurs.

If the implication of that sentence is true, then I say What the Fuck? Did I land on the wrong planet at birth, or what? (Just so we're all clear, the implication I read from it is that prostitutes are the only members of the female species who are truly interested in the finer aspects of life.) OTOH, one must consider that the source is NOT the most authoritative guide to the human species ever published. Aw well. I was bummed by it anyway. Just thought I'd share.

The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me
It just won't leave me alone
I still find it all a mystery
Could it be a dream?
The road to nowhere leads to me.

Ya know, as much as I pride myself on being able to occassionally write some words reflecting a truly fucked up mental state, I still don't think I have a prayer of matching the lyrics some of the artists I listen to. lol.

Back to the article topic: Ok, I know for a fact that the implication of the statement wasn't true, but reading the words still had me bummed out.

Papa I know there's a frog on my toe
Maybe I'll call him Jethro

Like right now. Mind running blank.

Oh, here's a slight topic switch: The rest of my PC parts still show no sign of arriving. I though for sure they'd be here within a couple days of the case, because they're all coming from the same source. Oh well. Patience.

Maybe the heat clogs my brain. It's so hot right now, even in the evening, that it's hard to think of intelligent things to write about. Need... cold.... pant, pant, pant.

So I go and order a massive heater. lol.

And so, this concludes another fragmented bundle of text from the Bitscape Production Facilities.