The last post

This is my last post to this blog. I had a life-changing experience over the weekend, which means that this chapter of the story is done.

But don't worry, readers (all, like, one of you out there). You can find out what happens next in my NEW BLOG,

Ellen Part 3.

APEC

APEC is in town, and tomorrow is a public holiday for everyone who works in Sydney, but the boss and I are both planning to go in to work.

They've been getting ready for weeks and weeks. I first noticed all the helicopters buzzing the harbour two weeks ago at Philorum Dilectics. Things hotted up a few days ago as they put up the fence in the northern end of the city to fence in the dignitaries, and then the cops started to appear. Our office is just down the road from the Surry Hills police station, a great grey hulking yet modern building that takes up about two city blocks. There are always cops around, but this week when I walked by on my way to work there were big groups of 20 or thirty of them all walking into the building, and three cop busses parked on the road outside. They've taken over a whole street to have enough room to park all the squad cars. You see swarms of them walking back up from the city in day-glo yellow vests. Our police station must be a central mustering point for all the cops that have been brought in from elsewhere in the city, or the state, or other nations, or wherever. A cab driver mentioned that if you were a thief this would be a great week for you to rob people's houses out west, because there are no cops there.

I've seen photos of the fence but haven't been down to have a look. News stories about the protesters started two days ago. George W. arrived at the airport night before last, and then tonight the news said there were something like 94 separate motorcade movements through the city, each one of which requires blocking off all traffic for some period of time. It's not just Dubya, the leaders of all Asia-Pacific nations are in town, with like 700 minders each, not to mention the members of the press.

Tonight I went to the gym after work (more on how much I love my new personal trainer in another post), and so it was about 7:30 when I left and started walking home. There were cops everywhere. The street was still full of squad cars. I heard a siren going in the distance, continuously, not stopping. And then the helicopter - it hovered over the city and then moved overhead, maybe watching Oxford Street?

I thought, this must be what it's like to live in a city during war time.

Except, when I passed the police station, all the cops standing around on the front steps, like 20 or 30 of them, looked so relaxed, and so friendly, and so Aussie, that I thought, no. A city during war time has soldiers, and they are all like coiled springs and stand tensely and suspiciously. Surry Hills cops are cool. They make this whole APEC seige upon us not quite so bad.

I hope the protesters are nice to them, my cops. I hope things don't get out of hand. I hope the erratic element who will use this as an excuse to do stupid things gets weeded out and subdued quickly, that the rest of the people can exercise their freedoms peacefully and can make their points respectfully and be heard, and that we all get out of this weekend and back to normal soon.

Welcome APEC. Bah.

Dream #9

Last dream of the week. This is the big one. Forget about that baby nonsense earlier, you didn't actually think that mattered to me so much, did you? This is the big one. I dream of being a published writer.

I dreamed this dream while at Berkelouwe Books in Paddington this evening. I was headed to the movies but there wasn't anything on I wanted to see, so I just got some food and some mineral water and sat in their cafe reading one of my new books from yesterday's binge.

I thought about having a book published, started to think the usual "I don't have any discipline and can't stick to anything" negative thought, and then caught myself. Today, and until midnight tonight, I can bask in the possibility that being a published writer is within my grasp.

And, because we're on the cusp of the week where I actually start doing things toward realising my dreams, I took some steps toward making it happen. What I did was buy a medium-sized ruled Moleskine notebook. The plan for it is to use it for development of ideas of philosophy, poetry and fiction. And belles lettres like this old blog here, if those come up. I ran across something recently about some author's diary, and have noticed in lots of biographies through the years where they quote from the artist's diary, and so it's something I should probably commit to. The finished works are all that are visible to the audience, but there are vast amounts of notes back behind them, as drafts and working out and developing of one's craft. And I'm on a writing jag at the moment, so I might as well spill out some raw material that I could later work into a grand theory of everything, or a good poem, or something else.

I'm not sure what my writing will be yet. Whenever I embark on writing something in predetermined structures or genres I can never stick to it. And here on the brink of the Web 3.0, I think I'm more destined to invent some revolutionary new medium anyway. I will just spill things out, and get raw material, and develop my "voice", and see what happens.

That's the big dream, the old dream, the first dream I remember dreaming. I want for someone someday to want to collect my Moleskine notebooks. I want some scholar to care that the first twinkling of my theory of the philosophy of narrative appeared right in the middle of a "to do" list and write before the grocery list, and to write a bit of a paper about the influence on my thought of being part of the Sydney Philorum School. Tonight I will dream about these things, and tomorrow I will try to actually do some philosophy and get closer to bringing the dream about.

what I think love is, or at least what I want it to be

Had a conversation recently with a friend who has a bit of a 1970's, hippy sort of approach to sex. The next day I was thinking, if I don't have a hippy sexuality, what would an 80's, punk sexuality be? I think it's this - I think if the world is bleak, and fucked, and meaningless, and being ground down by corporate urban industrial society, and already there's nothing left for us because the hippies took it all and then ruined everything, and you can't even know for sure that anything is true or real, and can only approach the world with cynicism and an amused despair, then the kind of thing you want from a partner is to cling to them, to grab onto them and press your foreheads together and have your minds and intellect and passions become so close that you merge together into one mind. You cling together, in your alienation from the world, and merge as two sets of buzzing data, pure information, crystal ideas, white-hot thought. Right? That's what I want. I want to find someone and download his program and mine into the same computer and mix them so we're one mind. This seems to be a more punk sort of sexuality. A kind of Blade Runner version of love. Or maybe just something that Geminis are into.

imaginary conversation with the woman behind the counter at Gleebooks

counter woman (after she can be assed looking up from the engrossing paperwork she's involved in that she finds so much more important than serving an actual paying customer): "Yes?"

Ellen: "Just these, thanks."

counter woman (looks at philosophy book): "This looks interesting."

Ellen (pointing to title of book, which is a man's name): "Actually, he was my Ph.D. supervisor."

counter woman: "Oh yeah?"

Ellen (pointing to the name of the book's editor): "And this guy, he taught me how to give really good blow jobs."

Imaginary conversation, but true story!

(I'm sorry, was that too much information?)

Dream #8

Today I went to Gleebooks, which I should not even go to because I'm such a junky. Even when I've been at my most broke, I've always bought books. If I walk into a book shop, even if I don't intend to buy anything, I come out with one book, and if I do intend to buy something I usually come out with three books at least.

Today was perhaps a new record - they had a "buy two, get one free" special on all Haruki Murakami books, and I got six.

But that wasn't all. I also picked up two books in the philosophy section, about which more in the next post.

I took my eight new books to a coffee shop and started reading one of the Murakami ones, and thought about the completely free Saturday night and Sunday day stretching out in front of me, and I thought, wouldn't it be nice to have time to read all the books that I pick up in my book binges. Wouldn't it be nice to be a person who reads and reads and reads? So maybe I will turn off the TV one week, and spend my evenings with my nose in lots of books. Or something - I don't have to sort out how it would happen until Monday when I stop dreaming and become practical again. But wouldn't it be nice, to just read and read and read?

Dream #7

This morning on breakfast television they had a story about a new parenting class aimed at first-time fathers - being promoted because Sunday is Aussie Father's Day. The woman who runs the classes was there with a new dad and his brand-new little baby girl, who looked just like him - so cute! The woman mentioned that for a lot of first-time fathers when they bring the baby home from the hospital they really don't know what to do, and are quite cautious and unsure of themselves.

And I thought, "Yeah, modern working people who've been focussing on their careers and haven't spent much time around babies, yeah you'd be unsure of yourself. My partner will probably be like that. I'll probably be like that too, because I got excused from having to babysit from the time I was about 11 years old."

Because it's dreaming week, I could just bask in the possibility, as if it's still out there in the future, as if it's something that will happen.

You knew this one would come up, didn't you. The big one. The baby dream. But since it's this week, I don't have to have the next thought, which is, "Now Ellen, you know you're 44 years old and not even seeing anybody, you know you're past it, it's not going to happen." Because it's this week, I could just use that phrase "I will be like that," and not have to bring in the censoring thought afterward. I can just bask in the possibilities, for two more whole days, and then Monday I have to start being practical again.

Dream #6

from the Salem Tarot Free Three Card Reading

card 3: The Future - Ace of Wands

All that is best in the suit of Wands is embodied in the Ace: the power of Will, desire, sexuality, and vitality will be abundant in the future. Just as the leaves burst forth with such force that they are seen falling from the Wand, your energy will bring forth many fertile beginnings. This card symbolizes the healthy, positive outlook that should be held. Great things are indicated.

click here to see the image

Dream #5

I thought, yesterday I was out of the house from 7am until midnight. And then I thought, as if I was telling it to someone, "I mean, I'm just never home, I mean, yesterday I was out from 7am until midnight!" I thought this with a feeling of glamour and energy.

With a feeling of relief, I then thought to myself, "I don't have anyone at home waiting for me. There's no one at home who thinks I should be home instead of out."

But that's not a dream, that's reality!

Hooray, Astrobazza, this one I'm already living.

Dream #4

I was sitting in a pub waiting for a friend to arrive, and I noticed beside me three young people sitting together, and one of them had a lap top. Several of them had got up to get meals so I could see that on the lap top screen was a photo of a woman dressed in black lingerie, leaning all the way back in a red velvet chair, in opulent surroundings. I've seen a photo like that before - we once pitched a web project to a friend of my boss's, a very well known internet personality around town who I believe was once voted Bachelor of the Year. He was showing us his personal web site and we happened upon a bunch of personal photos, and they were of a slim, very beautiful woman sitting seductively, with her clothes sort of falling off around her, in a red velvet chair in opulent surroundings. I remember on her a white silk shirt, quite unbuttoned and sort of falling off.

Tonight I saw a similar photo, and surmised from the group that they were collaborating on some kind of project. I couldn't tell if one of the women in the group had been the woman in the photo on the computer screen. They were all quite young.

Given my homework assignment of uncensored dreaming, I wondered, "What would it be like to hang out with sleazy guys like that, who take and even like to look at that kind of photo?" Those kind of guy are usually going through their phase when they think it's really profound to worship beauty. Women embody the beauty they worship. What would it be like to be their collaborator and/or photograhpic subject? And I let myself imagine it for a minute.

Dream #3

A life with enough sleep, and not tormented by clocks.

I got caught up on the weekend, somehow. I woke up just naturally on Sunday at 9:30 in the morning. I was able to get a bunch of things done, and talk to my sister on the phone, and still get to the poetry reading on time.

Why is every day not like that? Here it is quarter to 1, I should go in early to get the boss to help me with something that's late for a testy customer who yelled at me today about things being late, and then in the evening...another thing to do. I should not be tired for any of those things. But it's already too late.

Dream # 3.a - Stay up all night, then at 6am hastily pack a suitcase, hop in a cab to the airport and skip town. Forget your phone.

Dream #2

Walking along a beach, skin warmed by the yellow sun, a filmy cotton skirt (or wrap of some sort) and sand between my toes.

This is a dream that would be easy to achieve, especially because it was like 27 degrees today.

p.s. There was also a total eclipse of the moon, between 7 and about 8:30pm (in fact it's still going, I'm ducking out during the commercial breaks in Idol to see it). When the earth is directly between the sun and the moon, and the moon is blocked out completely, the only light waves that reach it are the red ones, which bend around, and so the moon turns a blood red. Quite amazing, everyone was out looking at it. Wonder what it portends?