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9th September 2002

11:48am: NRMAL NOW!
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LAUGHING!

I'M ALL FINE AND WELL NOW!

ALL CONNECTIONS ARE BACK TO NORMAL AND WE I AM SMALL AGAIN AND ALL HAPPY AND REAL OK.
í L¤8ë´N

WASONLY JOKING BEFORE! DON'T WORRY ANY MORE FRIENDS OF MINE, I AM WELL AND HAPPY. TOGETHER. NO PARTIES, NO PHIL,
ONLY J
OKING.

BACK AT WORK NOW, ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;) ;)

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23rd August 2002

2:55pm: Been busy seeting the place for the meeting... went to buy some food (man, I'm getting out of money). Don't know really what to say. Today I thought of my parents. I really should go see them sometime now. Uh-oh, someone's at the door! Party's up! See you guys later!

22nd August 2002

4:39pm: Phil called! Tomorrow, big party with all the guys from the group and our "mistery guest"! Phil said he's from South America.
At least now we have an excuse to clean this place... later, I mean...
3:10pm: We feel so very lonely these days.
9:50am: I will only update this journal with my right hand from now on. it's my better side, and only types what I want it to.
Here's to you, right hand. Type well.

I'm very tired. I can't look for a job. maybe we should move out to the country, with a big bottle of ibuprofen. we can eat falling leaves.
maybe this would make us more colorful inside.

21st August 2002

2:23pm: What am I going to do for food now? Ideas, o gentle readers??

I just had a nap, and dreamed of flying again. I like those dreams.

Gravity is too strong when I'm awake.
11:29am: I remember Minty coming yesterday. If you're reading this, Minty, I'm sorry. I'm not feeling like myself
these days. The thing with the roaches is nothing, really. I'll lock my bedroom and leave them there, then move my stuff to the living room and start sleeping in the couch for a while. I'll become a bean bag in no time...
I'm feeling clumsy, like someone who's getting used to living with missing limbs... I'm shuffling my feet and stumbling all day. Let me write down the rest of my day before I forget it. Ok? Go.
The two creeps I mentioned, well I thought they were following me, but it turned out they weren't, or so
they said, and I'm a big chicken so I was all embarrassed and apologetic and didn't even insist on
the issue.Then I went to work to find out Old Man really pissed off (first time I ever saw him like that). Old Stupid Man was nuts, said I didn't show up for the last 2 weeks or so. I told him what I thought, that he was just looking for an excuse to fire me. I might have added something about his age and how it was affecting his judgement, and all the time he was cackling I just wanted to bite his fucking head off.
Then I walked for a long long time, thinking about stuff, got kinda of tired, and thenit was really too
late to see a doctor, which I promised myself I'll be doing anytime this week. But, hey, apart from this
clumsyness, my eyes getting sensitive to light and an overall desire to lay down and yawn, I'm ok, I guess.
Then Phil called. He *insisted* (I could hear the asterisks in his voice) in seeing nme, because he has
"someone big, who is really interested in meeting you". He said he's been talking about me to this important guy (or woman, I don't know) for some time, and that he arranged a meeting. I asked "Why the hell you've been talking about me to people, dude?", but I was feeling too tired to start an argument.
So I slept in the couch. I swear I could hear the bugs humming and buzzing in my bedroom. And now I think I'll sleep a little bit more.

20th August 2002

5:17pm: I got fired.
12:39pm: I'm typing this at a coffee shop down the street.
Today I woke up all sweaty and sticky, and my eyes hurt. I was sleeping under my bed, wrapped inside a huge pile of moist newspapers. No-fucking-kidding.
I think I got drunk yesterday... well, I surely feel as if I did. I vaguely remember feeling like I was in a party, playing some stupid game. I tried to drink water, but my throat hurt like hell. I just wanted to lie down and sleep.
The phone woke me up. It was Minty, asking details about my trip with Stephen. My first thought: "Who are you and who is Stephen?". Then I remembered. I need a doctor, really. I think I ate something, or drank something, that is messing with my body. I've heard food infections can do pretty much strange stuff to your head and to your behaviour, all those fungi and what-nots...
There were a lot of messages from Phil, too. He insists in seeing me "before Saturday", he says he has something to show me. Fuck him. Fuck this shit, I can't even think straight. Old Man called too, saying that if I didn't show up today, I don't have to show up anymore... EXCUSE ME???
So I'm going to work. Then I'll go see a doctor. This coffee tastes like shit. Oh, looky. The two creeps just walked in. I'm gonna go and talk to them. I'll end this stupid crank, whatever the fuck it is, today.

14th August 2002

3:08pm: Ok, there's no one here. I'm nervous. When I get nervous I repeat myself. Just count how many "someones" are there in the last post.
I wanna go home.
2:55pm: I work behind a dark heavy, big-ass mahogany desk. There is a lampshade on my right and a notebook on my left. In front of me, a checklist with titles of books I was cross-referencing for the Old Man.
The walls are lined with hundreds of old books (the rarest are kept locked in vault). There's a door to my right, which I leave half-opened so I can see if someone's (i.e. my boss) entering from the street (there's a corridor there that leads to his office, on the back). And I swear by God I saw someone in the corridor, and I didn't hear the door opening. I am really nervous. Just checked, and confirmed that I'm alone. No one in the corridor, my boss's door is still locked. I swear I saw someone *scurrying* past my door. *A big, tall, someone*, by the way. I think I should call someone. What if someone tries to rob something from the safe? Perhaps I should check again.
12:45pm: I'm really less inspired than ever to actually work with these new ugly walls. And I see that my week off has done nothing to improve the smell.

Come back, Old Man, and fix things. Come back!

Instead of working, I read the following:

Indians blame mystery attacks on UFOs



SHANWA, India -- Panic-stricken Indian villagers are blaming UFOs for a spate of attacks that have killed several people and injured many others in Uttar Pradesh state.

Villagers in this poor region say as night falls, a flying sphere, emitting red and blue lights, hones in on their homes. In the past week seven people have died of unexplained injuries, while many others have been burnt.

Ramji Pal, was one such fatality, dying recently in Shanwa. His neighbor, Raghuraj Pal told The Associated Press that "a mysterious flying object attacked him in the night."

"His stomach was ripped open. He died two days later."

Many others have suffered scratches and surface wounds, which they say were inflicted while they slept. In the village of Darra, 53-year-old Kalawati told AP she was attacked last week and displayed blisters on her blackened forearms.

"It was like a big soccer ball with sparkling lights," said Kalawati, who uses only one name. "It burned my skin."


There's a lot more at the link. Creepy, huh?
12:13pm: WAKE UP, BIX!
Watching a documentary about Jazz last night, got all emotional over the story of Bix Beiderbeck.
All his life looking for approval of his father, who wanted him to study and perform classical music. All his life segregated from the black artists that were creating jazz music, forced to play with uninspired white ensembles. Slowly descending into madness...
"He was our golden boy, doomed to an untimely end."

"There were elusive bars that only Bix could hear".

All of a sudden, I know what it means.
11:22am: I'm still recovering from last week's trip with Stephen - as soon as I left the city, I started feeling ill and I'm afraid this made me rather poor company. We started bickering, and I felt like he was hounding me, talking about rather strange things (paranoid ranting: There are these guys following you, dude! You've joined a cult, dude! They're following you!, talking about me talking in my sleep - which I know I don't do) when I really wasn't in the mood.

So, Stephen, if you're reading this, no hard feelings. Really. My head feels much better now that I'm back home. And - gasp - IIiiiii-eee-iiiiii willl allllwaaaaaayuuuzz luhuhuve eyooooooooooooouuuuu!!!

Really. Next trip better. And I'll pack the ibuprofen.

13th August 2002

1:59pm: What do I have to do to people comment on my posts, eh? Do I have to keep eating bugs??
12:00pm: Last night I met Phil for some beers. He was really into politics. I was surprised to find out how little I know (or, frankly, care) about what's going on in the world. Whenever I see someting in the news, there's always this immediate response in my brain: You have other things to worry about. I mentioned this to Phil and he said "Oh, yeah, that would be 'Take care of your own garden'", which is a line I connected to Descartes, but it's from Voltaire, actually (I always mix up these two guys. Same thing with Ambrose Bierce and Pierce Brosnam. And "uvula" with "vulva", this last one already having caused the most embarrassing 30 minutes in my adult life, but that's a story for another day).
Phil said he had some interesting papers he'd love to show me about this concept, "entomofascism", which is the way he describes the innate mindset operating within an insect colony. He was transported by his ideas to an euphoric state which contrasts so much with his usual furtive ways, I could just watch fascinated, and feeling a little bit envious: I'm definitely a man of hobbies, not of passions...
But, as I was saying, Phil was feeling upset about the state of matters in the world, all the confusion, avarice running rampant. Then he mentioned the "pure altruism", "constant humiliation of the ego" which were the norm in insect societies (which I think is more than taking some poetic liberties with a bunch of bugs, by the way).
I was a little dizzy (after we were done with the beers he had produced a small bottle with some liquor he wouldn't tell me what it was.), that's why I asked him, abruptly, what would he feel if, just like Gregor Samsa, he woke up one day to find he had become a huge insect.
And he replied, with a smirk:
"Everybody is someone else's bug, if you look up high enough". Which got me completely lost, but I was too drunk already to care.
Oh, and by the way: All the roaches disappeared from my place. Gone. I couldn't find even a withered carcass behind the fridge. So hooray.

12th August 2002

1:26pm: STARLING
She had an insect deliberately inserted in her throat. Now that hasn't been made public yet. We don't know what it means.
DR. LECTER
Was it a butterfly?
STARLING
Yes. A moth... Just like the one we found in Benjamin Raspail's head an hour ago. Why does he place them there, doctor?
DR. LECTER
The significance of the moth is change. Caterpillar into chrysalis or pupa, and from this into into beauty...


So... it's like I've always knew, huh? I'm thinking about a sufi legend about the only two real gods that exist. One is a lesser god, the one who makes things happen, who creates things. This god obeys the first god, whom was called the God Of Irony.
I never thought about myself as "beautiful" before. I think I should get used to it, tho ;)
12:51pm: I have been looking outside the window for the past 20 minutes, staring at the cars passing by on the street. I was thinking about how they resembled lymphocytes, red blood cells and platelets flowing fast inside vases - the streets. For a minute there I could see the traffic lights as heart valves, switching from closed to open and back. Like if I was a small thing crawling over a giant, sleeping body.
I imagined how would it be to be so small, and yet an important, necessary part of something bigger. I didn't even notice I had started remembering my meditation sessions with Phil, because that was the feeling I got there - being a delicate piece inside a complex system. The sense of belonging... Man... I had never seen those people before, but I thought to myself I could call any of them "brother" and really, really mean it.

They say when you're a kid you have 10% more of sensitivity in your tongue. That's probably why candies were SO FUCKING IMPORTANT when we were smaller - because we could taste them better, in a way an adult will never understand. I just thought about that, because lately I have been feeling the flavor in things. Just now I was eating an Oreo and receiving all these accurate impressions of texture, resistance, sweetness. It was so rich. God, I wish I wouldn't sound as some third rate Mahavishnu speaking of these things, but I know how most people react when they read this sort of thing.
And it's not just the flavors. The colors are... it's almost as if I could know exactly the texture of different collors. I bet you didn't know that green feels rough like a cat's tongue, while yellow feels smooth and damp (yellow always makes me think of milk, these days).
One thing that I noticed, that I thought it was really funny, was the way people in Phil's group talk to each other. Let me see if I can make up a dialogue that will illustrate what I'm trying to say. This would be two of them talking:

Bob:Hey, do you remember...
Bev:Yeah, but I don't think he has...
Bob:Oh, C'mon, last time we...
Bev:Yeah, then...
Bob: (laughing real hard) Yeah, that was awesome!

I know this just looked like a Cheech & Chong sketch, but what I'm trying to say is that they keep finishing each other's sentences, they always know what the other is talking about! It's awesome to watch. They're always talking through half-completed sentences. They never have to explain too much to each other. First time I noticed it, I felt a little bit nervous. But one thing I felt, too, that night: These are very, very special people.
Now damn, this is an entry. Later I'll write some more (I fell like writing today. But you noticed that already).

9th August 2002

1:46pm: Exciting day at work. Boss sent me a letter saying he's still gonna be away for one week. He's in a spa, he says, now I would have to see it to believe. And now I just pictured him with two slices of cucumber upon his eyes and the face covered with mud, and I cannot stop giggling...

But that's not the reason of my excitement - We just received a copy of an "Aesop's Fables" from 1481. If only you could see the illustrations... I won't tell you how much this baby is worth, but I don't think I can even spell the sum. I'll go and put it on the safe now. I wonder how much I could ask for the dust in my fingers only.
12:38pm: If I had a metal band, I'd call it "Vicious Achronychal Depression by Dogs". Or perhaps "Vaginal Goat". Oh boy, it's a strange, strange world...

4th August 2002

12:41pm: Leaving soon. Terrible headache last night. And this morning for that matter. A bit of trepidation about leaving. Gotta get some painkillers. Oh, look. There's a roach on my screen.

2nd August 2002

2:40pm: Last night, another breakthrough - a glimpse of something huge and complex, made of units of information, each thought like the hair on a spider's leg. Meditation, chanting... I wonder if this is why people take drugs?


I'm out of town next week, but may be able to log in on the road.

Apparently, when the seasons change, the meditations will get more vivid. Nick, one of the guys in the group, he told me that. We don't talk much, usually. Although everyone seems very eager, and very, very friendly. It's nice, to be a part of a group like that.

31st July 2002

3:52pm: Work is really grinding at me today.

There's this ugly new paint job, I'm having trouble finding things, and there's this kind of smell I've been noticing, like cheese. Plus the boss is AWOL, still. No notes, no messages. I don't see him that often anyway, during a normal week, but this is very strange. I've called his house and gotten the machine.

Maybe I should call the police. My intuition is telling me, though, that I'll feel really foolish if I do, that he's just home with a cold or out visiting grandchildren (eerie as it is to imagine that man marrying and having children). Maybe he's just out while the "decorators" are in. Not that I've seen any sign of them. And not that the place is any more decorous.

Two months ago, I would never have thought I'd be talking about "intuition" like that.

29th July 2002

4:02pm: I've been meditating with Phil's group now for four nights in a row, and I've never felt better. I can sleep at night, I'm well rested, and I feel really clear-headed, really lucid. It's easier for me to see the connections between things, to think around things.

I'm also eating more lately - getting less picky - and I think that might help.

I'm convinced the computer at home has become infested with roaches. They're getting bigger, braver, like small mice. And I don't have the heart to squish them any more. I've given up on the landlord. Every day I see at least one, then it scurries away out of sight. I can picture them inside the tower, running electrons to and fro, carrying the words I type into the machine and from there, across the telephone cables to you, here. This message sponsored by roaches. They're not so bad, once you get to know them. Like crickets with bigger wings.

There seems to have been some change in decor here at the library over the weekend. I can't understand it. The old man is still missing, and now all the walls are covered in this kind of ugly faux-finish thing. Crackly and beige, where it used to be antiseptic white. I don't understand this schema. Martha Stewart would not approve, I fear.

26th July 2002

4:07pm: If I had six legs, I could RULE the WORLD.
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