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island weather.

Tue Feb 13 1996

Ahh yes.. in a few hours, I'll be offline for over a week. Some consulting work, and some sunning on a beach afterwards. Yummmy! Any ohter tropical islands want a website? I'm on my way! Perks. And just before that, I'll be seeing the tenth possibly great building... this one has everyone's approval from the outside, and I can't wait. It would be real cool to own a new building by the time I arrive back here! Very cool indeed,

Ritual unwinding: ME: beaches. :) Really though. I received quite a venomous peice of email the other day, me and 50 other unsuspecting persons. I wonder why I have to be so hated. I mention not the names ofthe people involved because this here is only about my own reaction... and not an attempt to instigate more doings of that type.

jamaica


warm sun beach days Hey Man.

Wed Feb 21 1996

boring sunny relaxing scary primitive sand palmtrees richard carrying bags suntans noninternet goodmornintoyalady orangjuusforya soyadonnlikenojamaicanmen chha'aa beachcats nounplace colorwithoutcomplexity

catchupwithfriends emailbombardments

Welcome to Cyberspace... The news people quoted me as asking Joe "Tell me if I look ridiculous." Cyberspace centerfold indeed. Curious. I start to wonder what the ramifications of this will be. My wonderful landpeople saw the show last week. Was it two weeks ago already? jah man. And they grinned soo much to see me this morning. :) I really like their pleasure. I like this essentially. Richard asked me if I knew what being famous is like, and if once I am tired of it, will I still be nice to people who recognize me in the ways I enjoy now? I know that is possible, and I also know me inside. I am strong enough want this for the rest of my life, an I am strong enough to take the negative responses ifI ever go nasty which I won't. When playing with people's basic needs, it is easy to keep them interested in filling them forever.

Taking a basic need and altering its satisfaction mechanisms ... that is really basic to being self created. I've translated a number of mine first from personal love and pair bonding bullshit into friendshiop and ambition. Now I take more... more basic stuff. I take the need to be loved and liked and cared about and translate it from lovers and family onto the world the cyberworld. Perverted? Only as much as anly self change is. Free willed? Only as much as a person can be - the drives are still there getting satisfied - in ways and manners of my choice. Am I a monk nowthen? Frustrated and uptight? Harmoniously accepting the is? Only insofar as I do not stay true to my core being. Core refracting into cyberspace into realspace. Effecting the real social ether through the cyberether. First.

I keep my photos here as memories of a day when the world relfrected back unto itself. Through the people who first reflected into cyberspace, the Internet, and back out into the world through the lenses of great photographers. Now into hearts everywhere. Sigh... rubbery flower slogineering.

And now of course I have a great tan too. :)

[ps: CBC Radio in Toronto: Friday Feb 23: 4-6: a show called "Later the same day: Carolyn's Diary goes on the airwaves. And I don't have a radio either! Lotek me. :) ]


Forever honest.

Wed Feb 21 1996

Today is only Wednesday. Surprise me! So. Really honestly what I thought of Jamaica in Jamaica was that I like my life here a lot. Warm distraction is simply not where I'm at now. I didn't write there at all although I took a load of pictures. I didn't want to write. I had more interesting thoughts during Tracey's brother's wedding last week (last 2 weeks ago) then I did in Jamaica. But I did have a few about the nature of wisdom and of intelligence (no this is not a AD&D module although perhaps on emight see Richard as an intelligence based wizard, and Peter as a wisdom based cleric -- that's about right -- I try to be duel classed, using both as usual -- Richard's new joke about me is that I always answer "both" when given a dichotomy -- fucking right I do!).


Bath time.

Thu Feb 22 1996

The water's running, and I'm ready to relax for an hour dreaming of beaches and palm trees swaying. It's pre sunrise here.

I'm feeling cloudy headed still, but soon my mind will awake again flowing with me into lands of the unknown. I do long term things now, and not short term things. What I did on my winter vacation: long term things. More than one reason for doing anything, and all of them create something in the long term... years from now. Up to about 20 / 25 years into the future. Not with predictions... just additions to what will be. Fair. I am adding a few things into the future of 20 yers from now, things that I know would not be there if I don't act now to create them. This I can predict. Easily.

I remember trying to help Carey feel concern for tomorrow, any tomorrow. I told her to write a note out to herself saying hi and good morning and that someone cared -- her past self -- about her. To stick the note in the mirror for first thing in the morning where she knows that she would look. This was years ago now. I wonder if it worked? Buying supplies and saving money is like this. Squirrels plan to make their future selves comfy.

Water's ready. miau


hatchet.

Thu Feb 22 1996

There is a hatchet dividing my mind in two. Pressing into the thoughts and dividing in two directions. Pain. I scream inside watching the pressing blade press harder. The forced understanding of another who cannot see the construction patterns in my mind presses on the blade further. Following the linearized thinking of another as they understand unsuccessfully. [Moppins sits on my knee purring with me as she feels the painin me.] My pathways are built with wisdom methods and not intelligecne methods anymore, for years. I transcended the linear constructions and valid systems for short cuts into larger places. Short cuts of wisdom and self knowledge. But still the methods war in me as I buffer between the wise earth bound creatures and the intelligent skyscraper satellite builders. Today I cannot bear the pain. I scream out loud.

Nothing I've done in yers could work without the buffering integration I have made in me. In me where the buffer lives, I am twain. A new schism emerges. where once one, then three, and then again one, now two. Surprising this. Poweful people surround me as I balance the environment into functionality and peacefulness, the hatchet presses. I cannot let the pressing come fromthe outside anymore. I will finish the motion, and divide cleanly by my own standards. For awhile. And they will not know why the pain is missing, where it has gone, into my heart.

If only the learning could be from the outside, but learning happens from understanders, and I am that person now more than any. Perhaps except Moppins, a wise cat.

If I believe that story telling cretes the future, why do I tell this story? I believe that not telling a useful story - it's lack - leaves the door open for others to tell. Their stories cannot fit me as my own will. For better or worse, I am in charge of who I am. I refuse the environments assistance currently - the environment is at war, and I am in the middle. I will create a lack of barrier. Not permeable, but wholesome and generous. A giving in and out breath relaxing the stresses. A buffer integrated within to soothe the wound I suddenly find in me. A new understanding of wisdom and intelligence shone a bright light into my mind and there I beheld an axe blade pressign with great force. With wisdom and intelligence I will assit the blade on its journey learning more, gathering momentum in lifeforce. My story changes here / will change here with the sudden self-knowing and new understandings. First I must finish screaming.


slivered crumbling glass.

Thu Feb 22 1996

not sparkling

I feel burned out now awful exhausted. I am going onto personal fuel alone for awhile. Funny after a vacation to some. To me, now is the vacation. Talking thinking knowing clearly even if I have only one possible life. I will use it to span many lives.

Are women always metamorphs? [Aren't I a sexist critter?]

Soap opera: opinions of sharded relations wasp by in swarms hoping to cling together warmly. Where is the survey that returns information for free? Can you understand another person, me?

The pain lingers in me stronger and sharper. I want to go get Fleiss now. He will enjoy living here with me and Moppins. All three of us were not named by our own selves. I should rename me.


blue and green / grue and bleen.

Fri Feb 23 1996

sad environmentalists? moldy cheez whiz?

Or just the colour concept confusion of my bathroom?

I'm worrying in a passive way about Richard. He's so violent with his own psychology. I wonder that this extreme is possible in a human. Yesterday after I hurtfully explained to him that people have trouble regarding him as human, he decided he wasn't. He is nobody now. I don't really know what to do, or if I should at all. I see the youngness of his emotion state and the incredible power of his mind, used to keep the young emotions young, always out of sight. I bring the emotions into the air with lots of pain and sometimes fun, but with fun he doesn't grow. It is the pain in him that is young.

Growing up and out is hard for people. There is always the temptation to rest and the temptation to do other things (I'm falling for this one currently -- so I advertise anyway). Richard has always done other things. Never rested, never comfy, and so he thinks always growing. But there are (excuse my own biases due to my own analysis which I of course do value) sidetraps to doing other things. Right now I worry about him because he is growing today. But thereason is not proper. I cracked and pried and pushed and forced yesterday. I couldn't take the closed angry man routine. I fought back. From my shattered shardlike essence where I had fallen yesterday, instead of pulling in wisdom as I had hoped I could, I pried a lot more than I could handle. Now Richard floats in growth solution alone. Alone is the pain. That was the prybar. He should have others. He deserves them.

Many years ago, I looked around and realised that I had only one personn the world that cared at all about me. Peter. I noted that eggs in basket problem that arose. I felt threatened for the first time that I was close to alone even with the closeness we two shared (and still do). I guess this was about 8 years ago now... a long time surprisingly. My answer to this was to actively try to meet people I respected and enjoyed, and to get to know them. I tried to override my fear of getting close too fast, and met Tracey. I met James, and I met Carey, and then Richard, and others who didn't stay around as long. And there was Norbert and Joe and Mike, and then Laura. And the list continued to grow... not a list really. A number of people who I shared intimately with some things and who I respect(ed). And now also Hella of course. And this behaviour of mine paid off.

I see Richard in the space I was before I met Tracey. Not for the same reason, and will not be changed in the same way. But the isolation is the same. There were 3 people who talked with him regularly, his father - who just died; his roommate - who just moved out; me. And there is a wonderful woman in Mexico who flirts fax with him, and who I hope will find him wonderful when they meet im person. But what to do.

I worry as a loving friend that there is nothing I can do, and that he needs something done -- this in spite of his complete denial of such. Richard isn't nobody, and isn't just a somebody. He is quite remarkable. And yet sharp, hurtful. His personality construct was charming at times when needed, childishly warm at times when he wanted to express caring, and I guess built to survive being alone. I wish he had stayed with his old girlfriend, Stephanie. I wish they ahd been able to talk after the long time they had been together, and I hope that he will find someones who will love him now as much as I do... and as he deserves.

But I will sit here worrying only. And Rita will be angry at me for writing these lies. I bear her angry painfully inside me, and yet that is the way it is.

Warmth.

stay warm


cyberstar?!!!

Sat Feb 24 1996

Yesterday the CBC Radio show, Later the same day, and today an invitation to an awards event in New York on March 18. A cyberstar indeed. We'll see indeed.

the dance band's music
heard from shore at night, as I
drift in my canoe
-- Ross Crate


obstreperousness.

Sun Feb 25 1996

What not to say on the air. :) Richard is doing a personality overhaul -- a spring cleaning of his soul if you will. This has left me pleasantly empty of responsibility these last two days. [Isn't Bab 5 amazing?!] I have cohorted with Tracey and Peter quite a lot more than I normally have the luxury to do, and I've been writing and thinking more. And work stuff has been smoothing by my desk easier. I knew how much of my energy was dedicated to getting along with who Richard was, and what sort of weight it was on me... but still. The relief. We both I think had confused all the taxes I charged for me being a weak and helpless person. Now though without the concern and adjusting of things that I was doing, I have seemingly endless quantities of energy -- I simply bounce up and start doing what I need to get done, no hesitations. I know what I want inthe world.

Funny. Sitting over dinner discussing what we want, I saw that others say they can feel guilty in seeking and getting what they want. And at the same time they say that I am admirable for not having this. In themselves it is a justified guilt, and in others they see it as a trap. When my life situation was impossible last year, I too was trapped away from knowing how to get what I want. Now though this is not so.

Now, I want to go out for an early breakfast, Sunday alone with all the families and their children, and then shop for foodstuff. Simple. Easy. Perhaps I'll phone Carey afterwards to chat.


swelling.

Tue Feb 27 1996

here ... my isp is about to dieeee!!!


glue.

Tue Feb 27 1996

Fleiss moved in two days ago. I've had little sleep since then. He and Moppins, both black furry people, spent the first night growling and stalking, and the second was simply over caffeination on my part. Tonight I should be fine... I am exhausted really. I played phone tag with Peter all day, and even meeting locationtag for awhile. We never did link up. And I missed Steve for lunch too, arriving just after he left, and leaving just before Peter tried to catch me there. It's been a hard day. I talked with accountants about incorporating, about hiring people, about purchasing the FSC building ... there is a bid in the making! Client meetings. And two beautiful cats. Nobody had dinner with me.

But I can't sleep yet. I was thinking about something.

But what. Sleep depravation is not my cup of tea. I think with the strangeness of pulling together a lot of things in buying a building, my focus has been elsewhere than where I'd like it to be.

Perhaps I had nothing more to write. Only the seams of my thoughts show to me now when the keyboard alights on my fingers. I'm not a funny person. Most people like me have a certain style of funniness, painful to me. I simply don't want to be one of them. I like beng only serious, even if it makes the situation uncomfortable.

Strained. Empty. Tired in that slow down and relax witha good book - I have none right now - sorta way. And I have been reading terrible books before falling asleep since Jamaica. Bad for me. Terrible book reading into the night makes me less happy the next day. Taste buds lie creating in the short term... happiness that later is undesirable result. I watch the later. Later tells me that reading myself to sleep with a bad book, and even with a good one, focuses me in the later but keeps me smiiling shortly after it.

There... something soothed in my mind for just a second. Clarity. Writing about it loses it... as most recursions and self-awarenesses suffer from too. But. the soothing. It felt right to me that the short term reading isn't inmy best interest.

Feel: ascending. No plateau except human societal limits. Niels smiling I realised because he lacks fear that most of us hold close. I realised that because for a few hours each day I lack fear too. Richard is nobody, and fear is missing in my heart finally. Fear bartering. The promises in myself held close by personal trust of who I am. I realised that his fear bartering hurt me too much. He stopped directing it at me.

What though is the reason for .... why I needed to write before falling asleep now. It is only eight o'clock now. I am tired enough to give in to the night's beckoning. I guess I shall accept my one moment of clarity and sleep now. If only anouther hour were mine before. Death is not near though. Remarkable. I really truly like my life. To think that I would be who I wanted and expected to be. I can't see the lines of illusion here. It seems real. I have to thank my friends. They have created my life happiness so greatly. No more fear. Power and effectiveness. Financial soundness. Friendship. Respect. And most of all these, still experience and newness. I didn't try to explain to accountants why there are no contracts between us all (although once there might have been). But I know that a contract cannot protect what I care about. The risks that do effect me are not writable in legal terms. Such other things are not risks for I am not a victim, I am not afraid. And I do not expect things from them. Only from me. Hpaaier that way. And often pleasantly surprised with gifts. It is not a surprise then that I am made sad when I have to ask or demand something.

The wheel of time turns unglued.


fantasy space.

Fri Mar 1 1996 midnight beginning a new day. quiet thoughts in the back of my mind turning around. explaining to a 10 year that philosophy is about ideas. helping a friend move by being around smiling without moving any boxes. fictionnet smiling at me with the CFTO News persons. email dribbling in at midnight. big meeting tomorrow, an opening of a cool website. four letter words averaging to fill the margins evenly. hope lingering in the seams of a faith generating vision. "love you" in postit from my love. no sparrows outside the window. it is dark. and clarity in mind ease. mortgages, taxes, purchase offers, peter and I spinning in fields rectangular boxes square dotted lines. smiling ease. I like this success so much. flying ever higher seagull wings white and bright.


Again a Sunday.

Sun Mar 3 1996

Cats chirping this morning a lot. I want breakfast now, and some coffee. Peter and I sat around talking last night. I like talking with him. We've become so able to stay positive and supportive and creative with each other. He phases in and out of nic fits. [He's smoking again, Sorry Hella. I guss I can give him that present from England now.] And we have a glass of alcohol since each of us loses it really quickly, and we giggle more. My fingers are cold now. We had a lot of fun talking. I don't even remember about what. I guess a mixture of old things, friends, what's happening now and next week. Hella will be visiting here for instance.

Today I'm going to call Hella and then Niels. I am hoping both of them are doing well.

No great understandings of anything this morning. Just lazy hunger. Good.



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