Can't Express

Welcome to the Can't Express. Our next stop will be confusion. i say moods like a botamist i can't have spelled that right i can't write whats on my mind. trees. like a botanist says the names of trees, the scientific name, to a kid that doesn't know or care.
those are my moods! unknown, and unknowingly not what i am talking about. i can't talk about what i am thinking about, you see. because you are on the line, the Can't Express.
a soup manufacturer, Preggo, has a new prototype, we'll see if it stays on the market or not. its called like, May Pretty Rain, or cherry blossom poppers, or something like that.
being sheltered, i am. don't like getting hurt but i like the adventure, the blood, the fight, the adrenaline, the breathing, the coolness. unfortunately, due to myself i dont have any of that in my character. i run. drudgery, on and on, nothing truly new, it's all been done by the barenaked ladies.
Blake was right. I am insecure! But I am also strong, stonger than i know sometimes. I am proud of my small accomplishments in my life, the xbox 360 blloop thing comes at the bottom of my screen every once in a while. blloop! and i am on the road to success and if i am not always the one behind the driver's wheel, i am the one with the map. I will run on and on. maybe the first will be (say-it). She'll C. or, if not, i will beat my record of 24 hours without sleep.
Shame on you, Ryan-Devils! Teri, Chase, Janelle, Sam, all those 'know-it-all' muners that don't know anything.
"part of the problem was the timing" (Matthews 122 Hardball) "Of course, you need to be aware" (Garfield Creative Dreaming 172) "Stop for a minute and take a look around." (Ed Oakley, Doug Krug Enlightened Leadership)
playlist jan31,2009: Break Away-Baha Men, One Particular Harbor-Jimmy Buffet, So Lonely-The Police, Love & Honesty-Hawaiian Style Band, Not About Us-Genesis, Drakinbala-biekbala mujik.
I used to question myself. But then i started getting answers, and I learned not to.
Forgive me if I ram page to the islands.
rampage is my msn word
If you are lost, climb to the highlands.
from there you have the sight of a bird.
There is nothing mysterious about me
I just want love, a challenge, and to be free.
shut up ryan you dumb. when she told me today, she was so pale, so less the activo in my head, and she said ryan lots...now my name has become, lets say, a word of harm-to-come, a reason to pray. I am here for you Paulina...and here I will stay.

The Sound of a Woman's Touch

I had a song in my head. it was one of those songs that can't truly ever be transcribed to cleffs, captured by a reed's whistle or a violin's resonance. A beat that is there in the song, but not physical, not sound sound sound sound, not a repetitious roll or thum of string or drum. Too beautiful for this world. is thought in this world? the song grievously told of a melancholy tale. Before it was heard on a piano, i had called it the sound of a woman's touch, a very synastegic syntactic anomaly. but, after the ivories possessed me for a duration of world-time, a new name undulated. how phenomenal! an undulation of the titillating title. the song did not transgress sound, touch, or a woman, though those were undoubtedly all part of it. it was greater: a man and a woman, conversing, touching. and, with how pathetic and accentuated the feelings! the man and woman must be at the apex of a relationship, the touching must be 'al naturale', the song of dialogue must not be happy, for the song is sad...no they must discuss in the moment that Donne would consider other-worldly or even supernatural something that is dark, is tainted. A confession! but, let it be that it is a confession neither of blame or lacking blame to either member. that is, it is neither entirely his or her fault, neither is it entirely not their fault. let it be that another man affixed himself on the divine lips of either the man or the woman, and, the other member had feelings about such a matter. that is not presumptuous. let us hope the conflict was between another man and the woman. let us say that it was not once, not twise, but some number of times, of world-time that he kissed her...and the greatest moment arose when she would confess. Of course he would still love her! perhaps not the her that he had dated, perhaps not the girl he first thought he knew, of course it couldn't possibly be her that had wanted this...she said she did, but for good reasons right? not out of love, but out of egotism? vanity, a need to be seen? how is that right? or is it that it is wrong, but it is less wrong than the alternative, that she loves him? she did, you know. she loved him, in a puppy love kind of way. here is the shift in the center of the song, the possibly minor, maybe major interlude...and yet it drifts back to melancholy madness. not madness, more magnanimous, if that is a word, more moreness and less timid taciturn tickling feeling. the morals and lessons, i once wrote. morals are what you have going in, the lessons are what you have going out. i am in the moment, when the moral is the lesson, but the lesson is not yet defined by the morals. there is a resolution to the song. i know it! i feel it coming, like the expected ending to a story that still surprises you. i hope i find the true song as beautiful.

Home

Is a home where you live, or where you feel most relaxed and at ease with yourself? I have found peace, then, in a thought. Not always comforting, to have the greatest sanctuary in the least quantifiable and absolute form possible. Nevertheless, The Meditations says it must be because it was thought. That bit isn't entirely true. Mom and I discussed names today. I fingered A minor today. I also played Kanon, also known as Canon, a Pachebel piece with an unbelievable personal history. I play the cello, you see. Already you see a piece of me! Eventually, you will hear me, smell me, and perhaps even heal me. For now, I wish you to feel the sound of a caress.

Visa

Ew Era Ereh!

"minimums often become maximums." -Mr. Elderidge.

• So I don't have time for a proper welcome. But welcome!