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Full Circle.

There is another part to this. A couple actually. Hasn't there already been a thing about involving a middleman when it comes to finding what we are seeking? Haven't we already done that a couple of times as a species? Hasn't that turned out a little sour, something that doesn't really work all that well? And isn't there the whole dis-empowerment thing? I mean; isn't there a point at which we should be accepting responsibility? When it comes to this kind of stuff shouldn't we? Shouldn't this path be a road, isn't something like this a lifelong commitment; a lifestyle?

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Last Supper.

So what was this one about? I think it started with me feeling bad about something. Maybe the D@ thing (see "21 Jump Street"). We've invited him and T@ to supper before he leaves, sort of a farewell thing. From our side an attempt at just trying to show a little grace in this whole thing. I guess it doesn't really have to do with him, who he is, how people feel. But mom doesn't think it's a good idea; there's resistance coming from her about the idea. It's been a while since someones said what I am or am not allowed to do. I'd have thought if it happened it would be about a couple of other things, but this? I said I'd leave it up to T@ to decide.

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The Dead of Winter.

So is this what my family have all moved down here for? To watch me plummet into the depths of despair. To watch as my marriage is gasping for air. I'm pretty sure they came to escape their own little private versions of Hell, whatever they were. Somehow I managed to sell them all the prettier picture that is my wonderful life. Convinced them all that of course it is so much better than all that out here. That it could be even better if only we were all together. Family first and all that. Hah! It's like watching 'Survivor'. Inevitably we all turn against each other. Eat each other. Speaking of eat, where is my mentor in all this, my 'Muse'? Where is the mushroom?

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Coffee.

Seems I've hit an all time low. Is it a this time of year thing? I really hope so. I think it's cyclical. I think there's a pattern. When my happiness levels bottom out it usually coincides with the peak of winter. The weather is so perfectly antisocial right now. It's not even playing by the rules which is making it even more so. Going all bi-polar. Petulant spoiled brat. Easy now; projecting? This is the part that I spend tearing it all apart. Giving up. Everything is just so meh. Is there any hope. Can there ever be. Is there really any point to keep trying. Etc.

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21 Jump Street.

A month to go and then it's almost spring. Again. In the meantime winter is running it's course. Killing Everything. Making it all feel dead. An end to the chapter; D@ has been given the boot. It's not happening to me but it feels gut-wrenching. He's decided to go back to Ermelo and live with his half-sister. To try to make it work up there or something. The decision makes absolutely no sense to me. This whole thing just feels nauseating. I'm not sure how much it comes across, how much this subject dominates conversation. The subject of him. All the bad decisions. This one just another bad decision in a long series of previous bad decisions.

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Anansi.

When I started this entry I had a lot more to say. I felt a lot more passionate about exploring the idea of feeling sentimental, and watching that feeling get pissed on by T1 (see 'So Pretty. So Ugly.'). I guess in the end it's not something I am really feeling put out by ~ Life Goes OM. Another idea I wanted to explore involved the fact that B and I had taken a mushroom each before we left to go to the function mentioned there. I guess it's possible that suddenly things might make a little more sense. Now. Looking back. In light of that. Perhaps. It seemed like such a good idea on paper. Or what was it again? Some kind of situation. Not sure. It might need a bit of explaining.

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So Pretty. So Ugly.

Okay well, so I got a little off track. There was this splash of luminous red on a brick floor somewhere outside in the dark, many worlds swirling around on the inside of it. Many Words. Mesmerizing. I fled to the toilet a short walk away on a gravel path, the crunch of the stones beneath the tread of my boots somehow reassuring, deeply satisfying. The toilet is in a dimly lit outhouse, not very sophisticated but a sanctuary of sorts no less, a place to go for a welcome break, to get away from all the activity. Away from all the talk. Away from the to and fro of words flying through the air like so many armed missiles.

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Sweet Sixteen.

Looked like a bit of a mess. Could have been the moment that defined many things, a revelation of an underlying theme. An Omen? An Insight? So we were over at T1 & R1's place this weekend, Saturday evening, for a get together for their daughter; A1's sixteenth birthday. She's a sweet kid. She'd asked for a luminous theme, a glow in the dark thing. Part of that was having these glow sticks all over the place. So at some point people were breaking them open, pouring the luminous liquid that was on the inside of them out onto a cold dark floor. It was getting lit up with all sorts of splashes of red, blue and green. And throwing them into a fire they had going on, the remains of what had been a bonfire from a bit earlier. It looked fantastic. I guess. But. It also felt a little destructive. And a little disrespectful - like the unnecessary spilling of blood. Or something.

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As Above, So Below.

Suicide. Diary of a Dead Man. Now wouldn't that just have been lovely? And to have ended it all with a number of entries, all having to do with how everything is an issue, how there are issues about everything when it comes to B and me. I wonder how that would have made her feel. I'd be such a dog to do that. End it off with pointing fingers. "This stupid shit made me do it." Well. If you are reading this B and I'm not around anymore then please know; it was because I was an arsehole.

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Dark Entries.

What's today? Wednesday? It was a winter solstice a few days ago. It's very, very cold. Yesterday was not such a good day. It felt like one of the worst yet. I spent a lot of time in my head, and going over some very dark territory. It felt again like a bad trip, like something wasn't right. There was way too much thinking. It all started the night before. I got into it again with B. I came down on her pretty hard about messing the blankets up when we went to bed. Then she retaliated by putting a jacket on and not sleeping under the blankets. I'd complained at her for trying to pull the blankets up to cover herself. After a while I told her if she didn't get under the blankets I was going to get in the car and leave, and that she would never see me again.

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The Garden of Eden.

So, what now Mr Mushroom; do you still want something to do with it? Now that things are less warm and fuzzy, now that things are a little more complicated and messy. Are you still prepared to speak up and claim responsibility? "I think best you stick with what you think you know false prophet, prof_it_e. Best you stick to what you think you know something about." Okay then. So. Moving on. I said before that I still need to spend some time getting into how things are going at the place my sister and her husband bought. I guess in this part I get a bit into that. It does feature quite a bit in the conversation between B and me. T1 and R1 have only just got the place (my sister and her husband), they are only at about the 3-month mark.

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Stormy Weather.

Up to that point we hadn't bumped into anyone else doing this walk. It's one of the many amazing things about it - how you can be so isolated here and yet not feel like the isolation is a threat. It might very well be in many similar places elsewhere, especially in South Africa. On the way back we did pass a couple of people with their dogs. There weren't any issues. About two thirds of the way back a group of more people had gathered and were speaking to each other while their handful of dogs ran around. We had B333 on a lead and B handed it to me in anticipation of our dog interacting with the dogs that were with the crowd. Off in the distance of my internal landscape clouds began to gather.

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Out of the Ashes.

Well. It led me back into the woods for a while back there. At that point all this stuff was going on in my head , a lot of this stuff that I wrote about in the last few pages. And in a way it makes a little sense putting it all down on paper in a more or less coherent way. In a way that seems not so intimidating, but when all of that is squashed into a brief emotional period it kind of felt like my mind was going to short circuit. And I thought okay well this is a pity. It's a pity that a misunderstanding like this is possible.

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Unhappy Birthday.

So what do I get into next? Do I get into how that makes sense? I mean, explain how bearing witness to what they are doing is driving me mad? Get into the details of where animals have featured in my sister's past and how things that are happening on the property they have is disturbing me? Wanting to scare away the monkeys? Spray insecticide on the wasps? Have snakes taken away.

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The Death of Nature.

So there was that. But was there anything else? I think the water has got a bit murky now I mean, what were we talking about? Where does all that fit in? Nowhere? It has got nothing to do with nothing? It has to do with something else that came before, an elaboration on a theme. It speaks to this whole state of the world thing, the deterioration of it, the death of nature, if it is the death of nature. Is it the death of nature? The idea somewhere along the line involved feeling uncomfortable. Feeling like everything is in a mess and in desperate need of a makeover.

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"Just trying to figure shit out."

Maybe. Things are speeding by like an engine in high rev but not in any gear. Stuff ain't sticking. So much stuff, where to begin? More or less a continuation of where the last book ended. I'm wondering about the mushroom thing. Whether it has anything to do with this feeling, this racing mind. Suddenly meditation makes more sense. And in the background a question involving the difference between how this feels, and whether it's normal, more normal? I mean, compared to whatever was before. What was before? Felt like nothing good. Depression? Well, whatever options there are as a forty something year old. I don't think it's unfair to expect what anyone feels as they get older to be something difficult. Something not so nice. Something unpleasant. I guess the reasons are all the same as whatever might have made life a challenge to a younger person, it's just that it gets more challenging, because getting older comes with its own challenges.

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Part One.

Part One; Sep '15 to Nov '15 (Spring). 24 entries of finding my feet. We go on a short holiday and I try liken the experience to a rite of passage, a descent of sorts into a type of underworld. The comparison is a sort of flop, but I guess does establish a theme.
During this part there's a few dreams thrown into the mix, I decide a bit further down the line to separate the dreams out ~ create a separate menu for them going forward.
I touch on a few symbols, react with some enthusiasm to a book I read, express a few wordy opinions, get into a bit of history involving my psychedelic drug use and introduce my family.

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The World.

A dream; we are looking at a house with the most beautiful garden, lots of trees, very green. My mom points through a clearing and asks about a place next door that she can see through there. I take a look and get the impression from the buildings and the clothes that the people are wearing that it’s a chicken farm, one of those battery farming type ones. I’m there now except it isn't what I thought it was, someone showing me around says they don’t understand why people still think it’s that as they've spent a lot of money, put a lot of energy into cleaning up its image.

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N****.

Part of what’s going on at the moment involves a guy called N****. I mentioned him first when the subject of me feeling a resurgence of sorts when it came to the subject of teacher plants (in Dreams and Drugs). I've been back and forthing a little with him recently after he sent out a bit of a call for help. He is trying to buy this place where he is set up at somewhere in the Garden Route and I guess needs a little cash to do that. He has a website set up that you can become a paid member of and I was having hassles getting into it etc. I scratched around a bit in there for a while to get a feel for the work he is doing and the direction he is going in. The set-up is something along the lines of a traditional healer, and he facilitates sweat-huts, dietas, sound healing journeys and ceremonies.

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You Are what You Eat.

It started at various points. Some of it had to do with our fight. I guess maybe coming up with some kind of pathetic excuse involving me not being to blame for behaving in such an atrocious way. So a better start to this might be I still feel terrible about my behavior and mostly like I’m walking around in underwear that I took a shit in. It’s out of sight but painfully real, painfully still there. Parallel to that I have thoughts floating around that involve trying to put myself outside of it all and try tap more into the story of it or something, to not identify personally with it too much, that would be more or less where the teacher plant thoughts thing ended up before all this drama happened involving B and me.

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Will Write For.





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