What do I do best but dreaming & scheming. The Year Of The Snake. 1977. The year of Elvis Presley’s tragic demise. The year of the birth of Techno with Kraftwerk’s Radioactivity. It’s in the air, it’s you & me.
My sweetest dream is to be with Simon. A wish come true!
I have been neglecting my angel cards of late. I shall get back to them for guidance this very afternoon. Always a positive message. I adore my angels!
Plenty of time for dreaming & scheming this weekend. I am not going anywhere but shopping & yoga. An abundance of dube to be smoked around here. Hashish & weed heaven! A healthy break from excessive alcohol consumption. My tolerance for alcohol is becoming ridiculous. Once you get it, it stays with you. Of that I am convinced. I have yet to meet anyone I cannot drink or shag under the table. Or flat out on the couch. Leaving me to dream & scheme.
I used to dream & scheme about a guy called Gary. Daddy Long Legs to me ’cause I used to see him as Isabel’s Daddy…Isabel being my child who is lost to me due, in her always angry Father’s words, no longer wants me in her life due to my Bipolar Disorder & bad behaviour. Bipolar Order in the court. The Family Court. Bejayzus!
Isabel wouldn’t utter a profanity but she always enjoyed blasphemy…egged on by her Father Dearest. Anywhatzisname, Gary was well-informed by me that I was dreaming & scheming but little did he know I was dreaming & scheming about him!
There’s always Plan Alpha to Omega in my mind. I weave stories in my Sacral Chakra while I’m lying in bed. They are soaked up into my brain & transition to words. What I have named Cunning Linguism. Straight from the gut.
Now that my Sacral Chakra is in overdrive, my heart no longer hurts over anyone, not even my estranged daughter. And that includes my love life. No one can break my heart. It’s crystallized.
Time to run for yoga practice. More dreaming & scheming to be unveiled upon my return……
Dreaming of a dube before I head off. My neighbour Alan says gimme 20 minutes. Gotta fly in 15. Tits & ass.
Still stoned anywhichways when I arrived in the yoga studio. Wasn’t kicking ass. Sat out most of the floor series but still sweated buckets so what do I care? Oh oh, what do I care?
Treated myself to an Indian meal of muchness in Diwali on George’s Street on my way home. As I do!
The restaurant was booked out but a table was quickly laid for me, myself & I. Usually I go for their yummy butter chicken but tonight I branched out & tried something different. Can’t remember what ya call it but it was chilli heaven! That & lemon rice & peshwari naan, washed down by 2 fat glasses of Shiraz…so Bob’s yer uncle & I had a date lined up with one of the waiting staff straight after!
Straight to Izakaya. A married man with a child was he. By the name of GP. I arrived before him but he already had seats at the bar reserved for our half hour rendez-vous. He was on his break but wondering about the party back in my place later. Fat chance!
Visiting times 3-6pm here in the Sally Army & strictly no visitors to my room, which suits me fine & dandy…mostly!
I won’t be dreaming of GP tonight, that’s for sure. Gonna hit the hay before midnight & be dreaming of a bright Christmas. Filled with love & other indoor sports!
Faith In The Ripple Effect 