dTaylorSingletary's New Writeupshttp://everything2.com/?node=New%20Writeups%20Atom%20Feed&foruser=dTaylorSingletary2005-06-08T02:50:16ZJune 8, 2005 (person)http://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary/writeups/June+8%252C+2005dTaylorSingletaryhttp://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary2005-06-08T02:50:16Z2005-06-08T02:50:16Z<p>I’m getting married in a matter of days. The time has come <a href="/title/the+Walrus+and+the+Carpenter">the Walrus said</a> To talk of many things. of <a href="/title/Gertude+Stein">preparation to prepare</a>-- for in preparation is to prepare, of course. For the day. What day? This day. For love and laurels and an infinite tradition, preceded by a <a href="/title/the+Question+Question">courtship of the archetypes</a>, a unifying act... finally now is now, and not then, and the now stretches for each in the future, each day a new now, but one now sheltered in the loving arms of another.
</p><p>
Though my actions in life are simple, my thoughts are often complex, convoluted. A muted sense of self, some echo, a voice at the end of a long cavern, wheezy like the critter in <a href="/title/the+Burrow">the Burrow</a>.
</p><p>
There is a magician at work here, events linked together, a <a href="/title/soul+train">soul train</a> of circumstance that brought us together. We had our <a href="/title/Astral+Weeks">Astral Weeks</a>..
<blockquote>
From the far side of the ocean <br>
If I put the <a href="/title/wheels+in+motion">wheels in motion</a> <br>
And I stand with my arms behind me<!-- close unclosed tag --></blockquote><!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…May 13, 2005 (person)http://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary/writeups/May+13%252C+2005dTaylorSingletaryhttp://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary2005-05-13T05:01:41Z2005-05-13T05:01:41Z<p>As usual May 13th will be a culmination of another year around the sun for me. Always a time of some unforseen but inevitable <a href="/title/convergence">convergence</a> of events and timing.</p>
<p>
25 years old. I made it here. Is it not time for reflection?
These are <a href="/title/Astral+Weeks">Astral Weeks</a>, slipping through the slipstream -- from the viaducts to <i>your</i> dreams.
</p><p>
Marissa and I are getting married on <a href="/title/June+11%252C+2005">June 11, 2005</a>. We've been planning this for awhile now, and it is certainly going to be an event of its kind. I've never been one to amass a large group of friends and the like, most of my relationships with <a href="/title/blue+morning+people">blue morning people</a> are fleeting, rarely rising above a certain level. But I have some good friends coming to this wedding. The few that I've known for years, though haven't seen in quite some time.</p>
<p>
I have an oldest brother coming, whom I haven't seen in a number of years... late 90s some time. He has kids I've never seen and I don't know their names. But he is coming. My poor <a href="/title/I+Love+My+Mom">mother</a> living near<!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…July 29, 2004 (idea)http://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary/writeups/July+29%252C+2004dTaylorSingletaryhttp://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary2004-07-29T23:02:28Z2004-07-29T23:02:28Z<p>
I haven't been poking my head much around here lately. I drop by, look what's up, consider cooling something, disappear again. It's amazing how much having a job you enjoy that is challenging and engaging can usurp both your on-clock and off-clock time. But it does. The slices of pie in the chart of my attention left after programming all day are very few, sliver slices that I tend to just put away in a <a href="/title/bread+basket">bread basket</a> for a rainy day.</p>
<p>What's even more rare is me, talking about me. Or writing. I'm not doing much of that lately. Marissa wakes me from sleep sometimes, usually I mumble to her something about matching up the interval IDs with the occurrence and cross referencing by user. <a href="/title/Do+Androids+Dream+of+Electric+Sheep%253F">Do Programmers Dream of Relational Databases?</a> I guess they do.</p>
<p>But <b>there is news</b>. After almost six years of living with Marissa, since back in the days of <a href="/title/San+Francisco">San Francisco</a>, I have finally, formally (rather than implicitly) asked for her to marry me. One thing<!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…September 25, 2003 (place)http://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary/writeups/September+25%252C+2003dTaylorSingletaryhttp://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary2003-09-25T02:43:50Z2003-09-25T02:43:50Z
<p> {on watching the <a href="/title/California">California</a> <a href="/title/Gubernational">Gubernational</a> 2003 Recall Debates}
</p> <p>
I don't watch a lot of <a href="/title/television">television</a>. In some ways, it's like an
alcoholic avoiding bars. I know there is something inside my television. A world
that lazily kreeps and transforms into a key, opening a door into my childhood passion:
<a href="/title/Nick+at+Night">Nick at Night</a>, trashy movies, and wild life documentaries. </p>
<p>
Tonight I saw the best thing since <a href="/title/Most+Extreme+Challenge">Most Extreme Challenge</a>. I saw candidates arguing and
interjecting their thoughts. The bronze big man slurry stuttering his words and spitting them
over the others. And then, this <a href="/title/Peter+Camejo">rider</a> coming out of <a href="/title/green+party">myst</a>. His words
struck like thunder, I felt emotional all over, and I wanted him to take California back. </p>
<p>
I left California almost two years ago and moved on up here to <a href="/title/Portland%252C+OR">Portland, OR</a>, not really
knowing what <a href="/title/muse">muse</a> I was following, but it was green mist. I wanted the trees, the fog, the rain
—and maybe I even like the moss best. But I'm<!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…Prosenoder's Cup 2003 (person)http://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary/writeups/Prosenoder%2527s+Cup+2003dTaylorSingletaryhttp://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary2003-09-21T21:12:44Z2003-09-21T21:12:44Z<h3><a href="/title/misery">mystery</a> <a href="/title/the+giver">giver</a></h3>
<small><small>. .. . ... . . . . . .. . . . . . .. .. .. . . .. . .. . . . ... . . . .. .... .</small></small>
<p>Begin with a <a href="/title/The+positive+power+of+negative+thinking">statement of negation</a>. The first indicator of an <a href="/title/is+of+identity">identity</a> constructed on <a href="/title/is+not">is not</a>s, <a href="/title/has+been">has been</a>s, and <a href="/title/never+was">never was</a>es. <a href="/title/all+quiet+on+the+western+front">All quiet</a>, one moment, <a href="/title/the+movie">preview</a> <a href="/title/electric+kool-aid+acid+test">reel</a> of <a href="/title/the+end">the end</a>. Continue with rich <a href="/title/Rumi">ruminations</a> punctuated by <a href="/title/alliterative">alliterative</a> combination-effect entities; use them to the advantage of communicating something beyond the words themselves, use them to paint tonal pictures of <a href="/title/temporary+motor+control">total</a> <a href="/title/sensory+derangement">sensory derangement</a> and <a href="/title/desire">despair</a> and <a href="/title/like+that">like that</a>.</p>
<p><a href="/title/Don%2527t+Look+Back">Don’t lose track</a> of <a href="/title/the+point">the point</a> though, <a href="/title/human+progress+is+the+movement+from+simple%252C+overt+and+localized+methods+of+destruction+to+methods+intricate%252C+invisible+and+pervasive">invisible</a> as it may be. The path of<!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn (idea)http://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary/writeups/Winter+Hymn+Country+Hymn+Secret+HymndTaylorSingletaryhttp://m.everything2.com/user/dTaylorSingletary2003-09-13T15:34:43Z2003-09-13T15:34:43Z<p>
The wonders of <a href="/title/distortion">distortion</a> never cease. One can blur reality, emotion, the physical and psychic planes into some <a href="/title/magic+gumbo+of+the+senses">magic gumbo of the senses</a>, merely by allowing some organic decay to wrap itself around a <a href="/title/the+golden+vessyl+of+sound">world of sound</a>. Those who provide clear definitions between each sensory type probably haven't experienced the swooning bliss of highly-manipulated sensory chaos, which provides smells that sound like tastes, and sights that feel like thoughts, long-since past memories and unwalked corridors of forgotten devotions. </p>
<p>
Worlds come and go when sound will never be the same. You wear them on your heads while waiting for the train. A private world inside your mind, without the hassles or concerns for that matter you once thought of as time— you've moved beyond, moved past, and kept on keeping on like a bird that flew. Purposefully making yourself <a href="/title/tangled+up+in+blue">tangled up in blue</a>, but the tangles have never felt so warm, so close, as if there was a message written on every<!-- close unclosed tag --></p>…