<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366</id><updated>2012-01-23T18:09:35.487-08:00</updated><title type='text'>just smile all the time</title><subtitle type='html'>The first thing that you want will be the last thing you ever need.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>18</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-6464251131217062800</id><published>2008-01-31T11:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-01T14:22:26.257-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything always happens: NOW</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I wake up approximately one week ago today. Friday. It's cloudy and damp and I've slept til 7 am instead of getting up at 6 as I had intended . I won't get to the gym to swim and instead have to get into work. My mind is filled with clients I have to contact today, the extremely unhappy client I feel guilty about, my bills, the crazy L.A. drivers who freak out in the rain, the end of the week, the date I'm having that night with a woman I'm attracted to but who brings out the worst in me. I get into my office, boot up my computer and pick up the phone to listen to messages. My computer boots up automatically to KCRW's music player which is set on the pre-recorded programming of the night before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hear this song and I stop. Look up from my desk. I've never heard it before, but it's familiar and different, all at once. I put the phone down, close my door, turn up the speakers  and as if I've been horse-collared, I sit back, close my eyes and listen...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I open up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what swimming in the ocean is like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what making love is like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is what I feel like when I am present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is who I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It finishes and I can't believe what I've just heard. I run around online to find it and learn about this guy.  Hans Otte. "Das Buch der Klange". I burn the cd and can't wait to get into my car and drive through the rain and see if it has teh same effect. It does. I tell a few people about it. ( those who are familiar with my already indulgent, creative artist dramatic "oooh look at that tree"  world view of things ). My day is completely different.  I sit with a friend and listen together. I weep and smile in his presence. It's a great day.  I figure that this is all just timing. My life and realizations and where my head is at, colliding with a piece of music that resonates with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I read about this guy and find out that hey, I'm not the only one. Other people are crazy too :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.pogus.com/21037.html"&gt;http://www.pogus.com/21037.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/store/artist/album/0,,142495,00.html"&gt;http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/store/artist/album/0,,142495,00.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's crazy is that this was his intention through the music. And how crazy is it that he has created the sound equivalent of:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Presence.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Das Buch Der Klange:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.badongo.com/file/7580911"&gt;http://www.badongo.com/file/7580911&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aquarian Music:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.badongo.com/file/7581092"&gt;http://www.badongo.com/file/7581092&lt;/a&gt;&lt;img style="visibility: hidden; width: 0px; height: 0px;" src="http://counters.gigya.com/wildfire/CIMP/JnB*PTEyMDE4MDY3NDYyNzgmcD*xNTExJmQ9Jm49YmxvZ2dlcg==.jpg" border="0" height="0" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-6464251131217062800?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/6464251131217062800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=6464251131217062800&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/6464251131217062800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/6464251131217062800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2008/01/hans-otte.html' title='Everything always happens: NOW'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-4488053126356060765</id><published>2007-11-19T23:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T00:08:40.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>yes</title><content type='html'>Of course this is coming into my life. &lt;div&gt;I've wanted it for a long time. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've deserved it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I've needed it and now it's arriving. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm not forcing it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm simply expecting it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And now it's here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Right now.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-4488053126356060765?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/4488053126356060765/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=4488053126356060765&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/4488053126356060765'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/4488053126356060765'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/11/yes.html' title='yes'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-716640709338803048</id><published>2007-11-16T00:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-17T10:16:14.020-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am</title><content type='html'>a creator&lt;br /&gt;I create things&lt;br /&gt;I was born to do this&lt;br /&gt;I am talented&lt;br /&gt;I am a creator&lt;br /&gt;I create things&lt;br /&gt;It brings me closer to god as me&lt;br /&gt;I am a creator&lt;br /&gt;I create things&lt;br /&gt;that are wonderful&lt;br /&gt;and sell for a lot of money&lt;br /&gt;When I work all day and&lt;br /&gt;care for people&lt;br /&gt;pay my bills&lt;br /&gt;get distracted by little things that don't matter&lt;br /&gt;or big things that matter&lt;br /&gt;use them all as an excuse&lt;br /&gt;I remember that&lt;br /&gt;I am a creator&lt;br /&gt;I create things&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-716640709338803048?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/716640709338803048/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=716640709338803048&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/716640709338803048'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/716640709338803048'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-am.html' title='I am'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-8336813096711593156</id><published>2007-11-07T16:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T21:02:34.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>what would that guy do?</title><content type='html'>The guy who challenges himself and achieves ridiculously fantastic things. Who feels happy and grateful a large part of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He:&lt;br /&gt;goes to bed early&lt;br /&gt;drinks water&lt;br /&gt;reads a few pages of something&lt;br /&gt;finds something new to be grateful for&lt;br /&gt;doesn't eat after 8 pm&lt;br /&gt;talks to three strangers a day to expand his circle and get out of his head&lt;br /&gt;calls his friends&lt;br /&gt;acts as if&lt;br /&gt;writes for 2hrs&lt;br /&gt;changes jack's litter box&lt;br /&gt;challenges his body&lt;br /&gt;does his dishes&lt;br /&gt;folds his laundry&lt;br /&gt;is up at six and out by 7&lt;br /&gt;swims&lt;br /&gt;smiles&lt;br /&gt;imagines something amazing&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-8336813096711593156?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/8336813096711593156/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=8336813096711593156&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/8336813096711593156'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/8336813096711593156'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/11/what-would-that-guy-do.html' title='what would that guy do?'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-4929450212320255364</id><published>2007-11-04T22:55:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T23:15:42.537-08:00</updated><title type='text'>i can see it.</title><content type='html'>It's a Crafstman. It was built somewhere between 1910-1930. It's eastside, Silverlake, Echo Park or even Eagle Rock. It has bumps and bruises, dents and dings. The heater's old and needs to be repaired ,if not replaced. In fact, the whole place is a fixer upper, but it has wood inlays, old colored tile in the bathroom and a separate shower and there are windows all around and a lemon tree in the scraggly, overgrown backyard in need of serious love. I'll have to get used to a new neighborhood and be out of whatever comfort zone I've created. I may be sharing it with some lovely woman or I might be by myself. The DNA built into the walls in that Howard Roark way that Craftsman homes give you the feeling they were built for each individual owner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll get buyer's remose as soon as I sign the paperwork. The mortgage will put pressure on me to make more money and focus more and I will freak out a couple of times and wonder what I got myself into and how I have sabotaged creative goals to buy it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll freeze in the winter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll be able to sit on my lawn at sunset on a summer night and split a few bottles of wine with friends and act stupid. I will sit in the empty living room and listen to music and the wood inlays will hold the sound and make me smile and maybe even cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'll hear Jack's claws sliding and scratching on the wood floors as he shoots through the hallway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can see it. It's real now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-4929450212320255364?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/4929450212320255364/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=4929450212320255364&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/4929450212320255364'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/4929450212320255364'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/11/i-can-see-it-its-real-now_04.html' title='i can see it.'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-1560378213554390639</id><published>2007-11-01T13:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T14:06:52.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can you hear me now?</title><content type='html'>I'm losing the ability to communicate directly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm completely confused.  We cell because it's supposed to be a great way to stay in touch, yet we screen so we can't be found. Conversations are almost always disconnected or difficult to hear and mostly done while focusing on one or two other things. I don't know anyone's phone number. I used to know all my friend's phone numbers. I barely remember my own home phone number. We text for efficiency, but it's really just a great way to screen under the guise of actually talking. We email when we can't get to a phone or at work or when it's too late at night.  When am I actually talking to someone and listening?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody can "read" each other anymore because we're eye to eye less and less. All this indirect-ness breeds confusion, isolation, fear and *static* SCCCHHHHHHHHHHHH....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-1560378213554390639?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/1560378213554390639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=1560378213554390639&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/1560378213554390639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/1560378213554390639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/11/can-you-hear-me-now_01.html' title='Can you hear me now?'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-2304622074519280615</id><published>2007-10-31T15:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T15:59:40.831-07:00</updated><title type='text'>aries horoscope for the week of november 1, 2007</title><content type='html'>A top official at the European Robotics Research Network predicts that humans will "be having sex with robots" sooner than anyone expected -- probably within four years. I hope this little shocker will help motivate you to follow my astrological advice for the coming week, which is to flee in the opposite direction of that trend. Start by phasing out any robotic, machine-like behavior that may have crept into the way you make love. For that matter, deprogram yourself of any automatic, lifeless habits that are infecting your approach to expressing intimacy, tenderness, and togetherness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;we fuckin' love Rob mothafuckin' Brezny and his beautiful Freewillastrolgy.com&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-2304622074519280615?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/2304622074519280615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=2304622074519280615&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/2304622074519280615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/2304622074519280615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/10/aries-horoscope-for-week-of-november-1.html' title='aries horoscope for the week of november 1, 2007'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-3475830234434082571</id><published>2007-10-29T11:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:31:05.769-08:00</updated><title type='text'>monday is "focus" day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyYuAER7PaI/AAAAAAAAACQ/5zlcacpjJG4/s1600-h/Mr.+Clean+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyYuAER7PaI/AAAAAAAAACQ/5zlcacpjJG4/s320/Mr.+Clean+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126835804491693474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Halloween was fun for the first time in 10 years. I decided to find a costume and go to a party or two, where I met  interesting and fun people and expanded the circle.&lt;br /&gt;Many thanks to miss Allison Wise for suggesting the Brawny Paper Towel Guy. Unfortunately he has no earrings and a full head of hair but it did lead me to Mr. Clean, which not only was easy to assemble, but seemed to bring out the best in people. I had no idea how beloved Mr. Clean was.  My cleaning bottle of Pear Absolut &amp;amp; Gatorade no doubt helped keep things...shiny. Next year: A Genie? Yul Brynner? So many choices.  The odd part is that now there is no hair on my face and I'm quite naked, round, and completely bald and have two first dates this week...nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*So many good things are percolating around me right now from the work I've done all year. I feel better externally and internally, but I am so disorganized that I'm afraid that these opportunities are slipping through the cracks. Do I have too much on my plate? This will be a recurring theme. I don't think so. I just think I need to have a system, a plan of attack. There is so much that I want to see, feel, do. Priority. This is a word I could use to focus on today. Wait, "focus" is a good one too. Hmmmm. Isn't that what meditation is? Focus. Okay, FOCUS is the word today!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-3475830234434082571?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/3475830234434082571/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=3475830234434082571&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/3475830234434082571'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/3475830234434082571'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/10/monday-is-focus-day_29.html' title='monday is &quot;focus&quot; day'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyYuAER7PaI/AAAAAAAAACQ/5zlcacpjJG4/s72-c/Mr.+Clean+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-7996379160631284422</id><published>2007-10-23T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:31:05.936-08:00</updated><title type='text'>santa anas</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyYvD0R7PbI/AAAAAAAAACc/7qsQJJg3sxU/s1600-h/Santa+Anas.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyYvD0R7PbI/AAAAAAAAACc/7qsQJJg3sxU/s320/Santa+Anas.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126836968427830706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's that time again.&lt;br /&gt;Hot, dry winds dropping down to ignite the city and fuck with my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything's dusty and acrid. It feels like my conflict, anxiety and worry feeding on my undernourished confidence and leaving it dry. My hopes and dreams and expectations burning up before they've had a chance to be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could the heat of the flames be my conflict, anxiety and worry, the shit I've carried around, igniting from the pressure of positive change and finally burning away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey man... if I'm gonna be dramatic and self-indulgent, it's gonna be in my favor from now on!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------&lt;br /&gt;Now playing: &lt;a href="http://www.foxytunes.com/artist/kt+tunstall/track/miniature+disaster" title="'KT Tunstall - Miniature Disaster' - open on FoxyTunes Planet"&gt;KT Tunstall - Miniature Disaster&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 153, 153); font-style: italic;font-size:10;" &gt;via &lt;a style="color: rgb(102, 102, 102);" href="http://www.foxytunes.com/signatunes/" title="FoxyTunes - Web of music at your fingertips"&gt;FoxyTunes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-7996379160631284422?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/7996379160631284422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=7996379160631284422&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/7996379160631284422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/7996379160631284422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/10/santa-anas.html' title='santa anas'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyYvD0R7PbI/AAAAAAAAACc/7qsQJJg3sxU/s72-c/Santa+Anas.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-1000358139138321357</id><published>2007-10-10T00:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:31:06.211-08:00</updated><title type='text'>weird fishes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyZKbUR7PeI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HtdLdU2gavU/s1600-h/In+Rainbows.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyZKbUR7PeI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HtdLdU2gavU/s320/In+Rainbows.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126867058968706530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Rainbows is here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stayed up to download...and now I'm listening to it. As I  listen to "15 Step", through my open window I hear...it's also coming from a neighbor's apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not alone this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're all weird fishes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-1000358139138321357?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/1000358139138321357/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=1000358139138321357&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/1000358139138321357'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/1000358139138321357'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/10/weird-fishes.html' title='weird fishes'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyZKbUR7PeI/AAAAAAAAAC0/HtdLdU2gavU/s72-c/In+Rainbows.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-5963177641356984561</id><published>2007-10-09T00:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:31:06.623-08:00</updated><title type='text'>wiser time</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyZJ-UR7PdI/AAAAAAAAACs/4jhnnyGVe-w/s1600-h/Black+Crowes+White.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyZJ-UR7PdI/AAAAAAAAACs/4jhnnyGVe-w/s320/Black+Crowes+White.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126866560752500178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Amorica &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the sexiest-sweetest-cut you open-make-you-shake-it-happy-high hours of music possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wore this cassette out on my cross country drive out here in January or February of 1998 in my red '88 Acura Integra. Went to see 'em last night at the Orpheum downtown.  I waited for every song from Amorica.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each song reminding me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost  10 years out here. Wiser for the time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am different&lt;br /&gt;I am the same&lt;br /&gt;I am neither one of those&lt;br /&gt;I am greater that I was&lt;br /&gt;I am much less&lt;br /&gt;I am neither one of those&lt;br /&gt;I am my body&lt;br /&gt;I am my mind&lt;br /&gt;I am neither one of those...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I must recognize and cultivate my  "reminders" each day. The conscious or unconscious things that by virtue of their existence,  instantly remind me the world is beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amorica is one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzw-7NWRFFw"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzw-7NWRFFw&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="font-style: italic;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" width="100%"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="lgrey" align="left" valign="bottom"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;Wiser Time&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="gr" align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;    &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;&lt;div class="dotline" style="width: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lyrics.rockmagic.net/img/b.gif" height="1" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;    &lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" class="lyr"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; No time left now for shame&lt;br /&gt;Horizon behind me, no more pain&lt;br /&gt;Windswept stars blink and smile&lt;br /&gt;Another song, another mile&lt;br /&gt;You read the line every time&lt;br /&gt;Ask me about crime in my mind&lt;br /&gt;Ask me why another read song&lt;br /&gt;Funny but I bet you never left home&lt;br /&gt;Chorus:&lt;br /&gt;On a good day, it's not every day&lt;br /&gt;We can part the sea&lt;br /&gt;And on a bad day, it's not every day&lt;br /&gt;Glory beyond our reach&lt;br /&gt;Seconds until sunrise&lt;br /&gt;Tired but wiser for the time&lt;br /&gt;Lightning 30 miles away&lt;br /&gt;Three thousand more in two days&lt;br /&gt;Chorus&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;table style="width: 64px; height: 62px;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="gr" align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan="1"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;td colspan="1" class="lyr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;   &lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;     &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" name="#03"&gt;   &lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;    &lt;table style="width: 22px; height: 114px;" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;td class="lgrey" align="left" valign="bottom"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://lyrics.rockmagic.net/lyrics/black_crowes/amorica_1994.html#top"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="gr" align="right"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;td colspan="2"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;td colspan="2" class="lyr"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-5963177641356984561?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/5963177641356984561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=5963177641356984561&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/5963177641356984561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/5963177641356984561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/10/she-gave-good-sunflower.html' title='wiser time'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RyZJ-UR7PdI/AAAAAAAAACs/4jhnnyGVe-w/s72-c/Black+Crowes+White.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-7257029192466914140</id><published>2007-10-03T15:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T11:14:20.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>overwhelmed</title><content type='html'>Constantly catching my breath. Running from one thing to the next.&lt;br /&gt;Carving out time with dad, creating an entirely new paradigm for my company, afraid that we don't have the capability to live up to our dreams, sleeping on the couch bed, writing with Harry, nursing my wrist injury which isn't going away, fighting off a virus which is keeping me from training as hard, entirely too much red wine ( this one is tough because I'm having fun drinking it because it usually means I'm with other people ), learning from clients how to succeed, trusting my instincts more and more, watching my father play piano and pledging to play with him one day...no, by the end of the year, not enough sex, not enough connection, moderate amounts of gratitude that could be more, realizing that's not present thinking...breathe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The truth is:  I'm grateful for everyone of these problems and challenges.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-7257029192466914140?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/7257029192466914140/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=7257029192466914140&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/7257029192466914140'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/7257029192466914140'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/10/overwhelmed.html' title='overwhelmed'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-4337519934666036897</id><published>2007-10-01T13:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T11:15:16.666-07:00</updated><title type='text'>hey jonathan...what's with the title of this blog?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 51);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=BBJ53_YDfU4"&gt;http://youtube.com/watch?v=BBJ53_YDfU4&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;How to Fight Loneliness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 51);font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;font-size:85%;"  &gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana,Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;       How to fight loneliness?&lt;br /&gt;       Smile all the time&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;       Shine you teeth 'til meaningless&lt;br /&gt;       And sharpen them with lies&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;       And whatever's going down&lt;br /&gt;       Will follow you around&lt;br /&gt;       That's how you fight loneliness&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;       You laugh at every joke&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;       Drag your blanket blindly&lt;br /&gt;       And fill your heart with smoke&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;       And the first thing that you want&lt;br /&gt;       Will be the last thing you ever need&lt;br /&gt;       That's how you fight it&lt;br /&gt;   &lt;br /&gt;       Just smile all the time&lt;br /&gt;       Just smile all the time&lt;br /&gt;       Just smile all the time&lt;br /&gt;       Just smile all the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-4337519934666036897?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/4337519934666036897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=4337519934666036897&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/4337519934666036897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/4337519934666036897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/10/hey-jonathanwhats-with-title-of-this.html' title='hey jonathan...what&apos;s with the title of this blog?'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-8756258776818119596</id><published>2007-09-25T22:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T11:16:07.137-07:00</updated><title type='text'>reasons to see "good luck chuck"</title><content type='html'>I'm not embellishing any of this in an affort to make you go see it  :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1) The soft core kiddie porn,1985 flashback opening "spin the bottle scene" with 12 yr old looking kids talking about fucking each other which we later find out were actually 10!.&lt;br /&gt;2) The tender beach scene where Dane Cook's girlfriend rips off her shirt, shakes her breasts in his face, drops to her knees and starts blowing him, then says "I love you" with his dick in her mouth and is then irate when he isn't emotionally available enough to say it back...as her erect nipples hug the camera lens.&lt;br /&gt;3) Dane Cook as a Dentist who only wears hip t-shirts and jeans and is conflicted about sleeping with the hot woman in his convertible, in front of his condo, but happily consents to it when he discovers they're using him, until he gets a call from Jessica Alba and all of a sudden has a change of heart.&lt;br /&gt;4) His obese Black secretary who calls him "Dr. Charley! Dr. Charley!"&lt;br /&gt;5) Same secretary who shows up in his apartment after finding out the curse, in garters and corset and  stradles him on his dining table, begging him to sleep with her saying "just close your eyes and pretend that I'm someone...beautiful" to which replies, grabbing her face tenderly "No. I'll pretend it's you" and then promptly fucks her.&lt;br /&gt;6) Dane decides to test the curse by asking out the fattest woman he can find, who's covered in zits and lounging in a bikini by the pool; her farting when he says hello; her eating three lobsters with roe running down her chin as he dry heaves talking to her; his dry heaving as she rolls on top of him naked.&lt;br /&gt;7) His plastic surgeon girlfriend-less, fat best friend who Dane finds jerking off into a microwave heated grapefuit, then pulling a tiny soap brush out of his ass and then sniffing his fingers as a button to the scene!&lt;br /&gt;8) The three breasted woman his friend finds at the end of the movie who falls for him because he "appreciates" her.&lt;br /&gt;9) The penguin at Jessica Alba's job ( she's an adorable pet wrangler at a zoo ) who shits and then a few seconds later eats it. ( obviously the writer's moment of metaphorical summation )&lt;br /&gt;10) The constant mugging and indicating of Dane Cook and the spiking of his hair as a major character choice.&lt;br /&gt;11) The extremely harsh lighting that makes everything look like it's taking place during the daytime.&lt;br /&gt;12) The outtakes where Dane Cook has cunnilingus and then analingus with a stuffed penguin.&lt;br /&gt;13) The Goth girl who cursed him, now a housewife years later, who lets Dane inside her house only after he shows her and her young dauther his penis on the front lawn , then sends said daughter out of the living room when they're conversation gets more adult.&lt;br /&gt;14) The total and complete disregard for any kind of continuity, quality or story.&lt;br /&gt;15) The ad campaign that doesn't feature the basic premise and omits all of the credits from it's posters.&lt;br /&gt;16) The shower I had to take after viewing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I encourage everyone to see this fine film so that we may discuss.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-8756258776818119596?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/8756258776818119596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=8756258776818119596&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/8756258776818119596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/8756258776818119596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/09/reasons-to-see-good-luck-chuck.html' title='reasons to see &quot;good luck chuck&quot;'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-2374551730788438763</id><published>2007-09-18T23:03:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T11:48:52.983-07:00</updated><title type='text'>marlon said...</title><content type='html'>It's 11:08 on my laptop, which is anywhere from 3 to 5 minutes fast. I'm writing at the Pig ( The Bourgois Pig ) on a walnut table. Sara, the barista with a good heart and great taste in music spins thumping rhythms on her ipod. 5 or 6 napkins sit next to me. I barely ever use 5 but always take them, just in case. I'm drinking some tonic called "Tame the Elements" which burns my throat with it's heavy coating of lemon and honey. The virus is still churning low inside of me. I can feel the honey-lemon sliding down into my stomach to do battle with it. There's an advertisement for a movie "Feast of Love" on the cup sleeve. Kelly recommended that book to me and I never finished it. What I read was really nice. The movie looks slight and passable. Kelly is one of the "Women Who Got Away". Can I call them that if I never really let them in or thought they were the one? I need a better title. "Women I cared about". Better. C'mon now. I loved her. Thinking of her and her red hair, intelligence and love of reading reminds me poignantly of how long it's been since I've enjoyed a woman's company without qualification.  Do I still not love myself enough to attract the kind of woman I want?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I forget...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday,  I was wondering how much to reveal here. Names, people, specifics, emotions. I want this to be "anything goes" but feel that a good compromise might be not naming people or specifics, but what's underneath...how it relates to me. That way I can welcome in whomever wants to read. That feels kind of like a rule though and fuck that... so, what's the point of all this then? As I sat there, over-thinking , I  noticed that some guy named "Marlon" responded to my first posting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marlon said...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I am reading a book that discusses relationships and says that the only way to know yourself is not only by introspection, but also by self-disclosure to another: "All the discoveries that we make through communication with ourselves-our thought, beliefs and concepts of self-are only ideas until we crystallize them and give them meaning and substance in words. Thus we come to know ourselves even better through disclosing oursevles to others." "Full disclosure of the self to at least one other ..appears to be the one means by which a person discovers not only the breadth and depth of his needs...but also the nature of his own self-affirmed values." "Revealing ourselves openly and honestly to others is the most important means of knowing the self."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marlon seems to have nailed not only why I'm doing this, but why I'm yearning for a companion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Marlon's cool.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-2374551730788438763?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/2374551730788438763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=2374551730788438763&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/2374551730788438763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/2374551730788438763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/09/marlon-said_18.html' title='marlon said...'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-5284834415226900510</id><published>2007-09-17T14:20:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T11:50:04.132-07:00</updated><title type='text'>don't let the darkness eat you up</title><content type='html'>One initially exciting post in April and then... nothing. The world sped up and it was all I could do to  finish the next draft of "The Paladin", frustrate myself on dates with incompatible women, figure out how to build and run a successful pay-per-click management company, pay bills and train for my first triathlon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Plenty of time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe there is. Not idealistically, but instinctively. In my gut. Time is the one thing we all have the same amount of, right?  My goal this year is to look at my hours as pastry shell hors' douvres and squeezing my pastry bag, fill them with not just productive but beautifully challenging, fun, gratitude enriched goo. I'm simply going to do what I've never done before.  Finish 3 screenplays.  Truly learn the piano so that I can play with my Father. Erase any and all remaining debt and file late taxes. Finish my first triathlon which meant learning how to swim, completely transforming my body. Get back on a stage and light the dimming spark of a fire that defines who I am. I am also going to meet more like minded, adventurous women who I could spend a life with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No problem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's September and I still believe I can accomplish all of this however, this morning, all that filled my head ( aside from a virus I picked up over the weekend ) were dark thoughts of past failures, future problems and an ache in my stomach ( the virus?). Minutes on the constantly ticking clock of life slipping  through my fingers as I reach to grab 'em back and make something out of them.  I'm so completely overwhelmed by the lack of progress in some areas and the mediocre results after hard work, in others.  My job is full of potential but plagued with mis management and fear and thick headedness. My projects all in various states of completion and all demand a certain amount of time to complete. I'm growing as a writer but need to write more everyday. My body, which slips back and forth from my perceived progress, is certainly stronger and growing. All facets, body-mind-soul are feeding off the nourishment of training and completing two triathlons and the lessons are mind blowing.  I know things are different.  I just feel empty and dark and alone in this town today, at war with co-workers, women, family and friends simply by virtue of their distance which I've created.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and then Harry called.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was time to write. He, from a Starbucks in Manhattan and me in my office, via telephone. We worked for 60 minutes. Ideas came and minor elements were "wrighted". At this stage of our script, we're like plumbers, looking for "idea clogs" that once free, will allow our characters and story to flow.  We poured a little verbal "Drano" and dissolved a clog or two.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This moment is okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I'm anxious, thinking in the past or the future, I try to stop and acknowledge the present: The desk is metal with fake wood linoleum that's 70's, the sky is a foggy, cloudy blue through the white blinds. My glasses that I bought in Union Square are upside down reflecting an unflattering but slightly comforting albeit translucent image of me typing this.  I'm present again. Jose Gonzales is singing " I see problems down the line...I know that I'm right...don't let the darkness eat you up...don't let the darkness eat you up".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't let the darkness eat you up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-5284834415226900510?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/5284834415226900510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=5284834415226900510&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/5284834415226900510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/5284834415226900510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/09/dont-let-darkness-eat-you-up.html' title='don&apos;t let the darkness eat you up'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-2131516306552694915</id><published>2007-09-12T15:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T21:31:08.954-08:00</updated><title type='text'>kaiser permanente los angeles triathlon</title><content type='html'>The L.A. Triathlon: Sprint: .4 mi Swim, 20 mi Bike, 5k run&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:00 am&lt;br /&gt;It's dark and I'm standing outside my apt with my bike, my tri bag full of gear, chomping down two pieces of whole wheat toast and staring into the eyes of two coyotes who've crawled down the hills behind my apt., while waiting for my cousin and his wife to pick me up. No toast for you, you scraggly little fuckers. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Freak out scale : 4.5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5:45 am&lt;br /&gt;Mark, Sigrid and I arrive at Venice Beach and park in the darkness. It feels like 5:45 pm, a full crowd of people unloading bikes and rolling down the beach towards the check-in.  I've downed a gatorade, a cliff gel and half a cup of coffee. The ocean is dark and I'm cold. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Freak out Scale: 5.5&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:45 am&lt;br /&gt;I check in, set up my bike and T1 bag ( bike shoes, gels, gatorade, helmet and gloves ). I've been bodymarked  with my Bib# "2918" and age "43". I'm  watching the waves crashing and after the pros run in I see two people carried back by the Coast Guard.  I can't do this. I don't have enough experience. I'm not going to make the swim.  I'm serious. I'm terrified. This is completely fucked. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Freak out Scale 9.0&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh3pNS7CdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/cB3mgnLhhEY/s1600-h/DSC_0224.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 149px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh3pNS7CdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/cB3mgnLhhEY/s320/DSC_0224.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109465327079197138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7:45 am&lt;br /&gt;I put on my wetsuit and test the waters with my cousin. It's butter. Warm and inviting and completely different looking than from the beach. I dive past a few waves and am swimming with ease.   I hug Mark and tell him and Sigrid how much I love them and thank them for helping me. Whooo Hoooo! Let's fuckin' do this!  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Excitem&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;ent Scale: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;9.0&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;           &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh4RtS7CfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/-qCtXwveDWA/s1600-h/DSC_0266.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh4RtS7CfI/AAAAAAAAAAk/-qCtXwveDWA/s320/DSC_0266.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109466022863899122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;9:24 am&lt;br /&gt;I have a fantastic swim. Rough start with choppy waves. I kept coming up for air when the waves were high and sucking down water,  but I found a rhythm and started to lengthen and rotate my hips and...swim. It felt so good that I wanted to slow down and splash around, but hey, it is a&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RuncWdS7CpI/AAAAAAAAAB0/eHujzEUi76w/s1600-h/jonwetsuit.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RuncWdS7CpI/AAAAAAAAAB0/eHujzEUi76w/s320/jonwetsuit.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109857530607766162" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; race.  I made it out in 24 mins. I re-pulled my calf muscle as I got on my bike and was concerned but hey... I made it out of the water! and 6 mins early! &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Calf Muscle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh4etS7CgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/QWDsX0S0fnI/s1600-h/DSC_0291.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 272px; height: 182px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh4etS7CgI/AAAAAAAAAAs/QWDsX0S0fnI/s320/DSC_0291.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109466246202198530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt; pain Scale: 8.5&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;10:25 am&lt;br /&gt;Rolling on my bike up from Venice to Wilshire to Highland and now smiling at spectators in Hollywood. Eat something. Drink. Squeeze a gel in my&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh44NS7ChI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wKlHwCdqvbA/s1600-h/DSC_0309.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 156px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh44NS7ChI/AAAAAAAAAA0/wKlHwCdqvbA/s320/DSC_0309.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109466684288862738" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; mouth. Change gears.  Look around. This fuckin rocks. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hydration Scale 9.4&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:00 am&lt;br /&gt;I make it up the motherfuckin 1st Street Hill without stopping. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Determination Scale: 9.0&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RuncRNS7CoI/AAAAAAAAABs/NU1NaEnAT04/s1600-h/jonbike.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/RuncRNS7CoI/AAAAAAAAABs/NU1NaEnAT04/s320/jonbike.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109857440413452930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:21 am&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I'm running up the steep Grand St. hill. This is hard...Bullshit...Think of something else. What am I doing tomorrow? I have a 10:30 appointment with a client...This is hard...I have to pay my phone bill...You can always stop and walk...Fuck that! I have three emails to get out tomorrow...made it! &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Hill Scale 9.7&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh5Q9S7CjI/AAAAAAAAABE/tAh4kc7lD4w/s1600-h/DSC_0343.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh5Q9S7CjI/AAAAAAAAABE/tAh4kc7lD4w/s320/DSC_0343.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109467109490625074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Runcd9S7CqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/h5ReHOQHrRs/s1600-h/Jonrun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Runcd9S7CqI/AAAAAAAAAB8/h5ReHOQHrRs/s320/Jonrun.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109857659456785058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:36 am&lt;br /&gt;I'm running down Figueroa St. realizing all I've done to get to this very quiet moment: The banged up wrist and knees from falling off the bike; the 5 am wake-ups for swims; canceled dinners or movies or dates; the constant fear of failing; the realization of how ego based I am, still and how that realization puts me in the NOW.  I look around and realize... I've been all over the city this morning.  I feel great. I cross the finish line strong. See for yourself:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://triathlons.accenture.com/LosAngeles/tracking/Video.aspx?bib=2918"&gt;Kaiser Permanente Los Angeles Triathlon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom and Dad are there. They're rarely ever in the same place and yet since I've moved here they're "closer" than ever. We take a picture together. First one I've taken with both of them since my high school graduation 25 years ago. They're cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh3PNS7CcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Odl1x5D5Eyw/s1600-h/DSC_0362.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 163px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh3PNS7CcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/Odl1x5D5Eyw/s320/DSC_0362.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109464880402598338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Power of Now Scale 10.0&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Considering the injury, I'm pretty happy with my time. See for yourself :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.latriathlon.com/Results/07results/sprintagegroup.html"&gt;http://www.latriathlon.com/Results/07results/sprintagegroup.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7 mins better than I thought was possible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you's for Sara! Marcie! Mom and Dad! ( that sounds so high school ) Victor! James! Bree! Everyone who came down and cheered me on and everyone who's been cheering me on through email, text and phone. All my friends in NYC...you were with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And... Javier...who took me out last October and showed me what the ocean could be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a good Sunday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What am I going to do next?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://triathlons.accenture.com/LosAngeles/tracking/Video.aspx?bib=2918"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-2131516306552694915?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/2131516306552694915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=2131516306552694915&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/2131516306552694915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/2131516306552694915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/09/kaiser-permanente-los-angeles-triathlon.html' title='kaiser permanente los angeles triathlon'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_zww_bE_DKDc/Ruh3pNS7CdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/cB3mgnLhhEY/s72-c/DSC_0224.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8466793241517061366.post-5307398766411671711</id><published>2007-03-08T00:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T20:33:43.816-07:00</updated><title type='text'>how to fight loneliness</title><content type='html'>I am opening up. I'm letting go of the facade of control I think I have in order to embrace uncertainty.  I am no longer worrying about "how",  since I have no control over it.  I want to do two things:&lt;br /&gt;1)  I want to connect with everyone that I miss, that I think about, that I love.&lt;br /&gt;2) I want to connect with someone who I see in glimpses and barely know...myself.  I'm gonna find out who that sucker is. If you'd like to join me, feel free.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8466793241517061366-5307398766411671711?l=wilcosong.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/feeds/5307398766411671711/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8466793241517061366&amp;postID=5307398766411671711&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/5307398766411671711'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8466793241517061366/posts/default/5307398766411671711'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://wilcosong.blogspot.com/2007/03/how-to-fight-loneliness.html' title='how to fight loneliness'/><author><name>JTM</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07393219687612126881</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
