Think before you act. Not me.

I love the impulse. Makes me feel like a woman. So anyway, I've gone and bought a ticket (so that rules out refunding it or giving it away since Air Canada doesn't allow that) for London. And there wasn't enough left over to buy the horribly cheap ticket to Amsterdam since I'm supposed to be there 1-10 May. I was busy checking all the sites, trying to find the lowest fare for the best value and couldn't really decide between several options when, and here I am almost certain that these companies check how many people are looking into certain fares, all of a sudden there is a sharp increase in fares from Vancouver to London. One moment its $628 or $653, or $678; then the screen flickers, stills and reloads with the new fare of $818 - all before taxes. Amazing. It's not like the staff suddenly got a raise, or the food's gotten better, or the petrol as rocketed up in price to warrant an across-the-board increase like that, but there it was. The dirty new fare staring at me in the face. Perhaps Air Canada was just the last of the major (if you can call them that) airlines to boost its fares for the heavier Summer air traffic. But now I was faced with more expensive fares everywhere I looked. And for some curious Germanic reason, Lufthansa fares are 3000 odd dollars for the same trip. Fuel must really be worth that hairy aryan arm and leg there in the Fatherland...

Oh, lets back up. The reason I had all the time in the world for this nonsense, is that I stayed home today and didn't go to work. Bad boy. But I have the strep throat and the little spots are making their prescence felt there at the back of my throat and I caught myself sounding very hoary and old, in talking to Diane Bernardin at the village credit union. If I was doing over the phone, I'm sure she wouldn';t have doubted that I was in my fifties. Anyway, I also went and bough Quicktax, but somehow am missing my T4 for the IRB. So, bugger it, I may have to head into work just to do that as I want to get my taxes off in time this year, unlike the previous 2 years. Anyway, there's more that needs doing, and now it's getting late again. I won't be drifting over to Gillian's photos even though there is something drawing be there. One of the miniatures of her in profile looks like a head on an ancient bronze coin. Not a bad fascimile of a young Queen on a coin either. Anyway, let's see what new horrors the morrow brings my way.

That's the fourth time I've said "morrow" in as many days.

Totally and utterly bonkeroonie.

Shocking.

But should I really be all that disturbed? I was just being a terribly sticky beak, a nosey parker, a busybody, traipsing all around the blogger when I'm noticing there there are all sorts of pages that don't seem to be about individuals at all, or at least they seem to be more about advertising some sort of product - be it information about a product or a condition, or a disease, or maybe they want you to sign up for some sort of brain-washing tutorials? what? actually, just buy the new toothbrusher cleaner and we'll forget all about the brainwashing, what? yes, of course it comes in red. What exactly is going on out there? And now I'm seeing definate wackiness - some Ang mo guy is talking like this one lah and that one lah, and speading the use of Singlish all over the web. Honestly, all hope is lost. Give up now and join in the horde of colloqualists. I'd like to order a pizza please.

Enstschuldigen Sie, aber konnen Sie mir sagen wenn fahrt die nachste Zug nach Berlin ab bitte?

Yes, two of those in large and a coupla bottles of coke.

No, coke?

shit. Pepsi then.

me at the met NY 

What a strange place to find a wonderful spirit

Very twentyish. Brown corduroy hat, apple green jacket, white pants, white shirt. sweet lovely face. due to the ultraviolet lighting at the orange, it is difficult to accurately ascertain her actual eye colour, but it came off as a deep, deep, blue-green, almost dark jade-like. pretty face and lovely locks. She was drunk with her friend who was visiting from ... Grand Forks? and was keeping him company. She and I talked while he was away. Apparently not with anyone but was with her friend and at the orange. An odd place but just as good a place as any to get drunk I suppose, if that's what you want. Danielle. She was great fun to talk to. She'd worked as a nanny but was now unemployed. As usual, I encouraged her to travel. I waved her goodbye very forlornly and she pointed at me goodbye. She kept saying "dude". I loved every bit of her company and one of those moments that, while you couldn't ever replicate, will stay with you for ages and I doubt very much that I will see her again. Much like the girl that glanced back at me from under her broken umbrella , as we crossed the street in opposite directions in the village (in New York) and smiled. Danielle will remain in my memory for a while I think and is someone I would dearly have liked to have talk to more. Oh well. Like Ned Kelly said, "such is life".

Damn and blast.

Challenge my mind and open my heart.

Or is it, open your mind and your body will follow. In either case. Shelby is back and with her BF after a one-day hiatus. She is leaving the nursing profession and learning hairdressing at Joji's. Can't remember the name of the scent that she was wearing but it was apparently " for men" and it contained cocoa. It is not easy to outwit her - she is remarkably intelligent, eloquent and is blessed with stunning sharp features. I'd mentioned the white armani strap sandles that Lynne has, and in between her breasts, asked if she was taking applications for doing this for real. She countered that there were "better women out there than in a place like this". That was the beginning of an argument which anyone would believe that she'd won. Definately out of my league. I wish her well.

Lorelei (fahie82) was there as well. She was suffering from allergies. She had said that she was fine but I don't seem to always get that from her eyes and she does throw on quite a bit of mascara and eye shadow. I haven't the foggiest why. I am hoping that she will travel and find some roots before too long.

Yes, I have resorted to this as a stop-gap measure. Perhaps that is just my way of justifying this but the argument came across plain and loud - that I simply cannot convince anyone of faith and trust in a place wherein I am a purveyor.

A giant word spelt HYPOCRITE in my head and I am conflicted as to its origins.

Where to from here? I don't know, but I know that it will be interesting.

What a week of strange dreams.

26 March 2005

Last night

A return to strange dreams it seems to be. A sleep of more than six hours in required. Rest can be had at four hours or more but not less. At past the sixth hour of sleep, the mind releases a key, which drifts effortlessly through you. Through time and space it seems, for who has not woken through a dream and measured the time, and awaken later through days, weeks, months and years worth of dreamtime only to find that the actual time is only twenty or thirty minutes. An instinct, a program, buried deep within our embedded souls takes that key and delivers us through the fields of fantasy. Portents of past, present, future, and images of our fears, desires, impulses and imagination swirl about like countless glitter upon the bright face of the sea. I don't know what it means but it half-comforts and half-bewilders me. Did my soul take me to see the future? The past? A movie? A re-enacted scene from a favourite book? Or unconnected stories and sagas from who knows which time and space. I wish that I knew and had kept my half of the entrance ticket or at least had looked down or behind me to see the projectionist, but as always, my mind is transfixed upon the view before me - sometimes as a spectator, as if I was watching from behind some sort of cover, which is perhaps how the soul feels; and sometimes as a participant, feeling all the heat from the sun, the warmth of the smooth skin and the bright smiles and chirpy laughter of children's high giggles. Sometimes I don't remember the dream at all except to know that it was there, and somehow important. At those times I think the soul had accidentally opened a dream that was not mean to be screened for you, only the soul, as a message of what to do and where to be, and as you made your way back to your still sleep body, the soul removes from your memory the dream, and you wake suddenly and having forgotten everything, feeling empty. Somehow having prepared for something yet nothing, and somehow cheated.

It is now several hours of activity from whence I awoke and the details drift out of me as water from a punctured bag.

I recall the following:

Shopping or at least walking through a strange store which shelves of interesting and epicurean delights. I picked up a smooth, engraved glass bottle, probably expensive with a well-designed round logo sort of Celtic with strange swirls in green and white. The label said "salsa" and I turned it around to see the ingredients list. I recall that the contents were dark with some speckles. The ingredients were strange - fur of silver fox, and other ingredients that seemed odd and had no place in what is now known as salsa. I remember being incredulous and looked back at the contents and remarking at how dark it was. There seemed to be 3 stories that wove back and forth and I don't know if they were connected at all. One seems to be this store, wherein later I picked up a large simple bottle with a flat screw cap. It appeared to be a bottle full of large slices of avocado and tomato. Apparently this one had the contents of salsa and I picked up another similar one (large bottles, usually the kind for large quantities of sauerkraut) but it was a generic brand and the bits weren't verdant enough and I put it back. Something about a sale and seemed to think that I either worked there as a guard and discreetly removed things that I liked.

Another story seemed to be about a girl (always a good start I think) and her search to find her love. She was always putting up photos on her wall of things she liked, including her friends and loved-ones and would tear down photos of those boyfriends who were no longer. And in this I seemed to be a spectator, not really part of the story at the end but at times, felt that I was playing the part of her good-friend, also a guy, who was helping her through all the travails and she eventually is crying and lost and cannot see who she is looking for until she looks up at her walls and sees the photos of the good friend and it is only he that remains on the wall and she goes in search of him.

"Oh my god", she exclaims. It's been you after all. Why couldn't I see it?

I don't recall much else from this.

The other story seemed to be shown in a colorized cartoon format, but seemed to be drawn over actors, just like the first animated version of Lord of the Rings. Of this one I remember less and less. Someone who had everything and fallen over the side of a boat, or out of a window of a high tower, and fallen into the sea. Picked up by a fisherman, who beat him (although I didn't see this, only heard it like narration) and he seemed to peer out of a barred-semi-circular window at street level. So he must have somehow found his way to a prison somewhere in the Moorish Mediterranean.

Are these images from my past AND my future?

Why is everyone Cleopatra, or Napoleon, or Caesar, or Louis XIV in their past lives? Where are all the common people? I am common. A commoner meant for things of glory but is robbed of it by my own sin - my greed, my lust, my lies, my judgement, my thievery, my sloth and my pride. Am I condemned to sit here and write narration upon what I see and not be among the actors that cast light or strength unto the world?

How can I? For I cannot do the simple things of staying true to my God, the Lord God almighty who created the heavens and the Earth, and serving only He who shall judge through his son Jesus Christ, who was killed by man and in defeating death, defeated sin and rose on the third day. It seems so long ago, yet not so long ago as to fall completely from memories of the collective known as humankind. Man, borne of dust and given life through the breath of God, has taken everything that he has been able and now insults the creator by embracing just about everything that He loves as if to say" look at me, if you are really there, come and punish me". But will it be too late? What do all these dreams mean? God can decipher them but we are removed from his holy presence, by what we have done individually, and as a whole as a people. We carry the sin of defiance from the first days of our experience, when we made a decision to be more than who we are, to be likened to God - through eating a fruit, a cheat really. Be happy in the role that God has given you, for by doing it dutifully. Remember the amount of faith required - only that of a mustard seed. I wonder if mustard seed was available on the shelf on that store? I shall look for it next time. If I remember...