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canadian retro.

Wed Oct 29 1997

Overhead. Investments in the future. My question from yesterday generalizes: When should people use others' standards instead of their own to make decisions?

I think most people pick their standards in this way. 'Mine are platonic,' vs mine are aristotelian.' 'Mine are left wing,' vs 'mine are anarchistic.' Etc. But after this, they make the standards their own. They use them, alter them with experience, re-apply with intelligence. And hold out the result as what they believe in.

When then do they, should they, move beyond these standards entirely? Of course, some sets of standards might speak to this issue - mine do. Mine state that I should use another person's standards when I'm evaluating what they've done as successful or not. Did they succeed in doing what they wanted to? I need to know what their own expectations were before I can resolve this. This includes knowing what their own standard of success was / is.

I guess my question goes beyond this possibility for me though. When do / should people literally act against their own standards and according to some other set?

If two people I know are incompatible, and this includes one of them demanding that the other be treated in a certain way which I would not want to do normally, what do I do? Is this a general problem to be resolved in standards analysis? Or should I suspect this is a particular situation and that I ought to simply swim through it while ducking and weaving (as I have been doing so far).


And on into the blue.

What I've doing lately is trawling the online dating places. I am mostly experimenting with ad style, and playing a little with the idea of really meeting people. I know that I've very mixed feelings about the whole thing. I'm a little concerned with bringing negative influences into my life.

In general I am very selective and careful in maintaining and establishing contacts of all sorts. This should be even more stringent, and yet I find it is easy to get pulled in to less important contacts because I know they are not serious. How do I winnow out the unserious ads? Shall I just tell the truth? Heh. I have been - excpet for my lil ole homepage here that is. I find that might take letting strangers get to know me personally a little too far.

That said, most of the poeple I've befriended in the past two years have met me here and admired what I've done. A puzzle within a puzzle.

It's time to leave off here.

tad on standards ...o... larry on standards

[ ... one year ago today: from underneath and overhead ]

swimmingly open.

Thu Oct 30 1997


Out of left field, I look across the well-cut grass in my mind. There are turrets in the distance, and the sound of people laughing somewhere close by. I'm supposed to stand still. Not a good choice really. So I walk towards the castle. Is hope over there? I think so.

I'm getting nervous. Too much coffee? Not enough human contact?

Perhaps I feel the pressure of the clock - approaching the edge of the morning. Privacy dwindling as I must out into the world. Outing. Offing. The nesses left to sleep. (Prettiness, warmness, happiness, purriness, beautifulness - wrapped in black fur in a curly circle in two places behind my back.) (Out into the world to walk to work.) (and into an office building where I work.) (And a 9:30 meeting which is important so I had better collect my thoughts here, and out off now.)

Wishes are birds.

[ ... one year ago today: Fishing in the fish bowl ]

lots of details.

Fri Oct 31 1997

4am... Can't sleep. Again. Too many things happening and they crawl around in my head. So after an hour of tossing, situps, reading and well, you know,.. I finally got up to write. I thought maybe getting some details out of my head and into my diary would alleviate things.

So what do I write about today? The backlog of email here? With wonderful things said to me that I would like to spend the time to think on as I respond? Not now.

The literal space expands in our imagination. We create the future with our imaginations.

[ ... one year ago today: spider's prints ]


Sat Nov 1 1997

Andrew is visiting. I think I'll be playing a lot this weekend. he's very into toys and games. Good. It'll be like being a kid for awhile, playing with tech and enjoying it. Nothing riding on it. No causal connections into everything else for awhile.

I'll feel a little bit crowded and swept around a bit in the sense of another's schedule and wants. That is fine. it is such an unusual

Pushing me beyond my own limits and expectations. Watching someone go from admiration to disappoint in all likelihood. Or perhaps I'm on a low self-esteem day. Could be. I've awoken with migraines two days this week, after almost a year of missing thementirely. What is going on? Sleep deprivation, headaches, and business. Perhaps I'm a little overwhelmed by the number of positives at FSC lately. The next step of expansion seems likely to occur now. I like it, especially when this one isn't my doing! We've grown big enought hat things completely independently of my direct say-so arise and prosper due to others' efforts. I'm impressed with this.

Saw Peter the other day for a quick biz meeting. He seems happy and well. We are on the outside of each other's public face finally. It's nice there. He is learning to present himself in tasteful manners. I'm learning to act professionally without giving away my personness.

After writing to me about corrupting influences, I worried that Andrew would be of that frame of mind still. I am glad to learn that we will develop another sort of relationship than that which would hurt people. It is good t know and good to find. Still I wonder why we find our selves concerned in this way at all. I'll figure it out.

[ ... one year ago today: logging ]

Spilling over.

Sun Nov 2 1997

Not to be with company here.

fairer weather.

Mon Nov 3 1997

Personal sovereignty is of the utmost in importance.

Why do I say this? I found over the weekend that I didn't have enough of it. I found that I couldn't findthe time or space to write or even to spend time alone with other friends without seriously having to snub Andrew who chose to stay here as a guest. I guess the weekend did not rejuvenate me the way it usually does. Luckily I have a low key week and will be acting as key support to Richard's more active week.

I'm relieved now to be alone. Nothing like too much company to cure one of aloneness.

We did have the chance to go to Sega City yesterday. That's a very cool place. Many really state of the art games and some virtual systems as well. I'd like to go back soon, perhaps later at night when the kiddies have gone to bed.


I'm feeling pretty good today. I feel a little bad in sending Andrew away without alaying his fears and doubts. In the situation though it became important that he know that he cares about his life more than some silly delusions he had about me. I feel like some sort of angelic force, having to show a person where the corruption was hidden.

And I'm off on a date on Tuesday. Stay tuned! A man in the film industry. I don't suppose I should link his photo here. :) The scary advantages of Internet blind dating.

[ ... one year ago today: a sunday of sun and snow ]

opp kno.

Tue Nov 4 1997

Through the various trials of life, trying to become someone I admire more and more. Frankness always helps me. I don't like maintaining images and postures that in the end make me sad. In the end. I guess the truth-functionalness facet of my mind will remain a tasting good space forever.

I have so many things to do today, little ones and big ones, and even another sales meeting, an RFP event in this case.

I feel as my business itinerary would be the only truly representative document here. And yet yesterday I primarily modified an access database, sort of to relax. Such a geek I am.

Weaving a web of ... bad and overused metaphor. What of the many possible things I could do in life? Let's see.. I think I'll accept a wonderful invitation to go away around Christmas with a friend. Where would be good?! I was supposed to get together with a nice fellow this past weekend. What with all the other strange and odd non-self discovery going on, I simply forgot. I wonder if I can salvage that mixup.. And finally, I've been practicing a little more remembering of things using a notebook I'm carrying around in my pocket.

Am I a list of decisions and coincident facts? I wish I were more than that, but this morning, I have so manythings to do. Perhaps this is what a how person feels like from the inside. An extra experience in life, being how instead of why. A tease. A desire for respect pulls me in this direction, perhaps part of Richard's aura. A world which respects wise and effective people is a difficult one to master. Let me have the time to learna nd implement the latter, and then I'll apply both to my requeisite actions. For I do not wish to become the jaded success story, nor the cynical loser. A fine line indeed, and one I am especially cut out to walk. If I can maintain the beautiful and intelligent dichotomy without choosing, then I can also do this one!

Successful and thoughtful. Wealthy and wise. Heh. It may just be a first. Then again, I've never met the wealthy, or for that matter the wise. Where do they hide? Purr my beautiful Moppins.

and once again, as per the usual habit forming schedule, the office beckons to me.

As nothing else could any longer.

But look up.

See the differing shades of blue in the sky set. Imagine the ship flyng closer to the sun picking up gravitational potential, a sling shot away from the rest of the stars. They are off. We know little more than that the future holds brightly of our desires. Mine is to leave this blue marble for even a short while. Gaze further out bearing in mind that the existence of miraculous is all in the mind.

Are you for or against progress? Are you willing to embrace change as it velocitizes ever upwards?

enthralled planetary motion.

Wed Nov 5 1997

And on life goes. It's late this morning. I slept in after a late night out on my date. I guess I can count this internet dating thing as a success. I've gone out with two different guys, and each was a pleasure in his own way. Good for me.

Thoughts? I'm sleepy now. Thats a serious drag and I shouldn't be running my life that way. I'll learn.

[ ... one year ago today: What am I thinking ]

once time stopped.

Thu Nov 6 1997

You are the past.

Our hearts ached with the surprising longing to be free. We wanted to make the world a better place, and to sing the songs of beauty and goodness. We explored the world, the writings of history, the sities of old, the cultures of ancients, looking for any sign that anyone had succeeded in improving the lot of mankind.

But we could not see it anywhere. Like Jehovah's Witnesses spinning tales of doom, the records of our ancestors told of conquests and wars, rarely selfless kings and queens and empires, the invention of bureaucracy and gunpowder. We did not perceive the annals of our race as a process of change towards the good.

And so, we reached out further, looking to our own bodies for these changes. We vowed to stand on soapboxes to be heard. We thought out speeches that needed to be said. We looked at the whole of culture as a disease to be cured and even removed. We wanted change.

Ten years of my life went by.

You are the present.

We know that mankind has arrived at a point in time where great things are changing hte nature of the world. Digital technology being but one part of this has grabbed our hearts. We express all ideas immediately and communicate then instantly.

We did change the world, and those who went before us have been vindicated. For as we aged and tried hard to be heard, we also learned that the changes have occurred, and that our history is primarily that, not of empires, but of small growth step by step translating into a historic journey through time. As we receive our own inheritence, no longer the disenfranchised children of an alienating culture, we have the keys to the locked doors.

Only time and our souls stood in the way. And even so, many of us have kept our souls. We represent the possibilities open to mankind in this state of our racial growth. We will take hold of our imaginations and where they cannot yet be actualized, they will soon be. And when even soon is too far away, we will build virtual worlds to be there now. Watch us with awe and yet do not be surprised. We are still only human.

You are the future.

I'll be there with you. Forever.

[ ... one year ago today: free introspection ]

and start.

Fri Nov 7 1997

And the story goes


Through the lingering night of youth, which most humans mistake a early dawn until they've aged, we toss.

What is this mind we have? Where do the conventions come from that our seniors so merrily encourage us to follow, often to no obvious gain? Ass kissing pays here, and yet we don't know why.

The sentience beams on brightly, early morning puberty. Mind churning recursion and self-awareness blossoms, or fails to.

And we take apart the social fabric at the seems (SIC).

And such. The learning experiences that we must go through in being biological seem astounding to me. They take us beyond the reliable and predictable android model of knowing all at the beginning and failing to have reactions during the interim. We have reactions, and we want them to be sensible or colourful or even extreme.

The grown-up part of me awaits the evening with a little suspense. What will it be like to once again leave the power structure. I intend to plan to avoid this. I'd like to be a viable citizen forever. Childhood lacked rights, and so will seniorhood. The darkness surrounds our lives, and it frames us in living. My loves, sentience and freedom. How do I acquire an endless capacity for both, being mortal?

And as a young adult, I know that I won't really worry about this for many years to come. My peak is in the future long before the drop once again. Will it be worth it, my life?

[ ... one year ago today: Where humans fail to tread ]

veriform hearts.

Sat Nov 8 1997

but what.

Chronicling the self seems to be a waste of my time finally. No longer a unique activity by far, and no longer something that reveals new things to me, perhaps it is time to quit.

I feel like this across the board right now. Perhaps I should take some time.

Last night, walking home crying alone, I realized what has changed. I no longer believe there is someone in the world who loves me. In fact in the sense I mean, there isn't. I have no family currently. With teh failing of my final contact with Peter, I've been living without that inner glow, a warmth beyond anything else I've ever experienced, that made my own energies soar. I feel alone again, and though surrounded by people who care in their own ways, I am alone.

This journal has been the chronicle of several changes in my life over th epast three years. I have gone through changes of this magitude only once before, the several years following on my leaving my parents' home for university. As Carey greived through many changes, and only a few really big ones, so I seem to be greiving in my own way now too.

The changes that seem to be important: where I live, whether I love anyone, whether I believe anyone loves me, what I do with my time.

All of these changed when I left home, and again when I left Peter. I've been tossing and turning ever since really I've been hoping to have wht I once had, and have been settling for little pieces of what I want, a Frankenstein life. This has its positive aspects. The reliability of a distributed system in ones social network. However, with the loss of all the carers in the circle I deteriorate quite frequently. Perhaps I used to anyway.

Where I live... seems to be just fine. I worte a letter with all of my concerns in it and mailed it with my rent cheque. Since then, I've felt a lot better.

Who I love... I love several people very much, and yet not in the way that makes my insides warmer. That was only once, for somewhere around 15 years, and it ended only a couple of months ago. Since then, the cold and ugly facade of the acquaintance has appeared on Peter's face, in the tone of his voice, in the way he gingerly tries to reach through the walls he's created. An acquaintance. He chooses this, and I am no longer fighting it. He is no longer the warmth in my heart, though I still love him.

Who loves me... again, many people, and yet... this is the conditioned sort of love that fills a niche in the spectrum. I am not sure that I'd want it any other way, and yet...

No. I know that what I want is to love some broad spectrum, and to believe that they feel the same.

What I do... I'm working on this, and without help from anyone else.

[ ... one year ago today: feathery thoughts ]


Sun Nov 9 1997

I've been readjusting really well. Long way to go, and yet I'm noticing changes. I spoke long and productively with Richard yesterday, fianlly. I told that my strengths are other than his. He told me about his own strengths too in a moment of true understanding. Like me in some ways, wishing for the system where truth functionalness and creativity were the rewarded aspects of life in this world. Like me realizing that this is just not so. Like me decideing to move away from that arena in image and to play the parts that are rewarded.

I told him part of the driving energy behind my own ambition was to create a space for truth functional people to play in successfully, or to create an understanding inthe world that this and not sauve verbal bantering is the higher value to society.

We seemed to even agree that the rewards go to those who in a more mediocre way manage the social realms, and networks and schmooze through to success. I am not cynical about his. And yet, I do recognize the changes in me, similar to those I've seen others make, lead me towards the extrinsic rewards structure and away from the intrinsic rewards structure that the truth functional person is so able to tap into.

[ ... one year ago today: Thoughts on the what is ]

e and f.

Mon Nov 10 1997

what to write... letting go of the design of thought. sink into the ether burrowing down and out and around like an earthworm. to what?

to what indeed... thoughts only today, nothing congealing in the back that I know about. Perhaps I am wrong? Was wondering about Carey.. how she is doing. I can guess that and I guess it is that I miss having her around. I'll try calling her.

Had a phone call from Peter late last night. From Florida. He and Hella went off there to look after things and to generally relax a ittle. Terrific idea I thnik. He said he just wanted to chitterchat. I was so sleepy I guess, and I think he wanted something more than that too. I felt I needed to keep asking why he had called, and what business thing I was supposed to look after. There was nothing, he said. I'm patient.

I think I will go off now.

[ ... one year ago today: names ]

and still nothing.

Tue Nov 11 1997

things are fine now so I don't need to write. I've been working with Richard on redeveloping our friendship. This has been going very well, and it is well worth it. It took some trying and lots of good will and these are adding up. It's good to be in an environment where you can get along happily with those around you. It's just not the default for me.

Still, I find writing boring here. Perhaps it's because for hte first time ever I've been following anothter online diary. It demoralizes me to feel so normal and common. I'll just stop reading I guess. Never picked up the habit before even though so many people I know do this now. I'll leave them to their own readers.

I need to stay in tune with me. And me is a feeling of specialness.

Such is life.

[ ... one year ago today: Calmistry ]

just me.

Wed Nov 12 1997

Just me again, early in the morning, wondering whether or not I should write... and if so what. Not wanting to. Left it to last after all other things had been checked up on and dealt with.. except my email which seems to be in dire straights currently.. will need to get that fixed / moved.

Just me. And Moppins. We're feeling good about just being here this morning. Fuck the recursion.

So detail has it that I'm an edge seeker. Feel like it this morning. No pronouns again. Why? It happens sometimes. Tired I guess of the continual ego presence. Count the heads in a room and always come out one short - self missing. Overwhelmed by groupism. Feeling better though about one on ones. Nice to be out of love in a way, no responsibilities to someone that can hurt the relationship. And yet, I am responsble perhaps as never before. odd.

Some of the above will do. I guess toda is another extreme doer day. They happen. Even to me. Writing proposals and making things happen. Doing interviews, you name the job, except mine, and there's an opening for it. Meeting all sorts of persons in the door, telling me who they are, and why I should pay them too much. Thinking to myself that there must be a way to supremely enjoy this, not just mildly like the dusting off that this does of social skill.


Do we live only once? Could it be?

[ ... one year ago today: truly normal hoops to jump through ]

smaller things .

Thu Nov 13 1997

Writing space.

Short letters of encouragement.

A small smile.

An invitation to Italy which I've said yes to.

Planning another year of jet-setting.

Slow traverse through the political scene.

Future possible.

Starship Troopers... excellent scifi. Gattaca... excellent metaphorical artwork. Looking forward to Postman... prediction: mediocre Costner movie from great novel.


Finding peace. Never found. A journey.

Thoughts on love and aloneness....................

Thoughts on diary looping........

My thoughts...

What are the limits imposed by the laws of nature and by what we have so far discovered?

I dropped by Peter's place the other night to check on the cats. He's away for a few days. He told me over the phone that night he called that the beautiful Dagney cat had gone missing just the day before he left. She wasn't there when I visited either. She was old, they said. And she was.

We got Dageny from the Humane Society in Kitchener along with Ragnar, during our objectivist phase - hence their names. Two small and frisky kittens, nicknamed the thumb tack cats very quickly in the co-op we lived in. We have all sorts of photos from back then, two kittens curled up in a slipper, or on top of the warm electric alarm clock, or on top of Mike's head while he slept.

Ragnar didn't survive the move to Toronto for long.

Dagney must be at least 13 years old. The most intelligent and demanding of cats, she's ruled Peter since the day I told him he was playing favourites with Ragnar. :) Dagney acquired her own hand servant that day. They were inseparable up until last Saturday. He spent the day looking for her. I must grieve quietly. I know he did his best.

I'm not upset by her loss. She was amazing to know.

What disturbed me over there was that there was no cat food. I brought a whole pile of tins over when I found that out. Perhaps he was upset when he left. Or the tins were hidden somewhere. I'm worried about the other cats. They are as skinny and ramshackly kept as is Peter himself. Matted fur with ribs sticking out. Obvious worms. What the hell... And the Kitten with a limp. I'm tempted to cart them off to the vets for care. Where's his mind? His heart?

So I've been worrying about what to do. I'll talk with Peter. He'll brush me off as he does anything that does not agree with his tight moral view. Maybe though he'll listen.

I looped back thorugh the years just now, back through to '95 and what I was about then. Letters from several people discussing the religious bent I had, and wish I still had. Persue the need.

[ ... one year ago today: scared to talk ]

even smaller things.

Thu Nov 13 1997

15 hours later: 9 at night

Eating tv dinner. At home quietly after a long day. SO many crazy things colliding.

And Peter phoned several times. TO talk, thenme to reestablicsh the link of talk after we started to squabble. Then even later after we shared our grief, he called a third time. He found Dagney. She was at the Humane Society. Her North York tags saved her even though they couldn't track Peter down with them. APparently those databases expire after all. He picked me up, and on the way I tried to smile. I could see the excitment in his eyes, and the fear that it would not be her when we got there.

After much red tape, and many rather slow bureaucrats, take that as you will, we did meet her there. She was so happy to see us. And now she is home and fed and warmed up I hope. A do-gooder had found her, and seeing her scruffy condition, had taken her in. Poor princess. But she's well, and she probably had a better time there than she would have at home while Peter travelled. So all worked out.

I still think, and many do-gooders apparently agree with me (Yuch) that he needs to take a differnet sort of care of cats. Not just their feelings, but also their physical beings.

Contrast... one man cares about his lost cat as if he lost his child. Another cares about a new client as if he must succeed with it or lose his father's respect. (His father is dead of course, died last year. And yet there is something to that.)

Working late til 8 or so.. Designing a new site. Trying to price proposals. Thinking more about expansion pains than the current crop of todos. I think FSC's hitting puberty.

Of me.. today nothing. nothing there. lingering in life going through the motions without pleasure. Even with a few words here and there. I'd like to feel free t otlak with all my friends. But I don't. Email doesn't work for me as a talk space. Meeting with them does. How tough. Sing slowly.

9:30. Sleep now. Or phone a friend to talk. :)

small tyrannies.

Fri Nov 14 1997

The snow reminds me of childhood, the hope that the schools would be closed. I find myself thinking that very thing now. I wish the office were closed. I guess though, I am the principal. I know the costs of closing, and must take serious second thoughts before doing such things. Ah well.

Childhood reminds me of the dictatorship I lived in. Do what we say. Overall, the collection of htings worked, they just left no room for happiness or creativity. Even more clear, they didn't do anything to encourage these things. Mummy surely thought that the schools ought to do that for her - ala British schools. Why are so many people I know now rooted in that small but colonizing country? For years people I knew stemmed from other parts of Europe. Tea anyone?

Dictatorships remind me of being in relationsips of any sort.

I was thinking this morning about how sound works for me. It's as if hearing something makes it happen. Why would this be? I avoid all forms of sound really in a quest to retain my own self identity. This morning it feels like self identity is on the line. I've been pushed around too much lately by bullies. Social bullies and metaphysical hypocrites. I need a day away really.

Today would do. Sound is like th eprogramming language for me. In my ears and into my intentions. SO I isolate myself a lot. I interupt people when they speak so as not to hear some things, not to learn some things. I duck out of group situations so that I won't become a group follower - to the point of misery. This would all change with a take charge of it attitude. Perhaps.

I don't want a group following me around though. Yuch. Richard calls that being a ring leader. I guess the rl gets to have his own ay a lot. But he also bears the brunt of others' expectations. I don't like this latter feeling. So I coast socially. Iliked hanging out with Tracey - we liked the same things socially. Movies, dinner, conversation, shopping, and wishing for more exotic events. :) Wishing.

Wishing. reminds me of being a kid.

[ ... one year ago today: High hills afar ]

Is it the smallest of all?

Sat Nov 15 1997

Concentric circles of coffee staining the bottom of the cup, drawing me into the depths. Of what? Desire to wake? Or perhaps an unknown journey waiting for an adventurer? The bottom asks to be covered again. Shall I just spit? A more satisfying distraction would be to refill the cup and hold it out as saviour. Perhaps in a minute. I have something to say right now.

One small voice. A shocking title really and a causal one. With dageny alright, and memories of objectivist readings from those many years ago, and even comic book addiction too then, what did that one small voice accomplish? My voice, not Mooch. What have I done? I guess a lot of self improvement counts for a hell of a lot. People look at me now and are surprised, and ye tthis was always there inside of me. I didn't have the tools of expression or activation then. A few did see potential. Perhaps those public school teachers who skipped me two times did. Perhaps the Systems Design Engineering program at Waterloo did. Perhaps Peter did, or Craig. I guess the question points to something different.

I was explaining to Richard last night how I do not look people straight in the eyes anymore. When it ws all bluff, and any judgement I encountered must have arrived from either gullibility or perception of potential, I knew I had nothing to hide in my eyes. The energy beamed out. An aura surrounded me. people often came up to me to comment on this. a small percentage of people could see something of that nature about me. Was it just unbridled youth?

My eyes remain a private temple now. I am sure that no beams of attitude would show in them any longer. Pummelled into second best, harnessed to dog sled pulling assistance, I am no longer special. Coasting on old confidence much like I coasted through 3 years of engineering before my failing to learn anything new caught up with me. Coasting on the attitudes of yesterday - endearingly over confident. And now? Spilling my real and true thoughts out here while my eyes hide from the light of recognition in others eyes. The people I know now are older too. Perhaps my peers have learned to see more. is this what growing up means?

Certainly there are the small possibilities that I am wrong and that my eyes could shine out without recrmination. Will I decide to be that way again?

Will I decide t love ever again? I am trying.


Sun Nov 16 1997


Well.. what exactly should I write about?


Small efforts to enter the mental dialogue.


I want to go off to fix my car really. Nothing more. I collected lots of furniture things yesterday at IKEA. I might order a couch or two from them, and then all I really need is a real bed. The furniture thing a thing of the past. Alright. Today this morning, I'll take a run into the office for a drill. and then get some supplies for my car and the furniture assembly. A nice breakfast would be a great addition. I'll see if Richard is into a breakfast run.


Must logoff then.


still small... freewill, even will, has its edges. Use it wisely then away from the edge. Don't fall into the surrounding black fear.


Aging is remarkable. I am no longer paranoid about death, about failing to notice it when it happens. I'm still very twitchy in cars, but even that is much less. Will death be a remarkable experience? It would have been several years ago. When it was something that concerned me more. The smallness results from thi loss of perception. This then is remarkable.


Small deaths of the mind and spirit. Aging.

And hope breeds true, springs from inside as a gazelle lighting away. It is remarkable.

[ ... one year ago today: cozy pickels ]

For the future...

frames: http://carolyn.org/diary.html

smaller ancients.

Tue Nov 18 1997

It must be chilling outdoors today. Cats sit in here like lions overlooking the savanna, spread dauntingly over hot high rocks. Shall I back away from writing to assemble IKEA? Shall I

What stimulates us besides the maslo hierarchy dreams? Can we pull ourselves into another space, less dictated to by our physical needs? Do these needs define a perception of reality that avoids some parts that we might enjoy or benefit from? Of course that last is a big yes. So there is some desire to let go of our maslo striations, fling ourselves as a species out past the turnpike of our local town. A bigger universe.

Watching the closer flora / fauna. Flirting and laughing and clowning. There couldn't be an environment less suited to me. I just watch. Eyeballs watching genitals - sounds wrong. Watchers and players. The games I want to play probably have these at the core too. Perhaps I should become a watcher only again? Must everything devolve to lowest common denominator? Really? Perhaps it is not a general property but a specific one shared by those I've been watching. Hopeexists. Somewhere.

The savanna lions as role models. Watchers players.

[ ... one year ago today: nothing in particular catches at my fingertips ]

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