Still slightly hung over from last night’s frenzy with Farrah.  Farrah weekend is paying off as well or better than expected.  All morning, even though I had a headache, I felt free of the physical plane and free of my boring life surrounded by troglodytes.  The beings on the other side are palpably present and now the issue is, am I supposed to be a channel or am I just supposed to check out of here?  I spent a while deleting e-mails.

I’m trying to … I was reading “Bridges of Madison County”.  The intensity was good although the hero was a little sappy, but that’s what women want, anyway.  Still thinking a lot about Ravenswood Kinowerks, but there will be solutions to this.  I suppose I’m hungry and I have to get my finances taken care of … I stop for a moment and feel spiritual presence.  It’s nice but this is the time of writing.

I need a new computer and all kinds of things.  The best case scenario would be for some spirit to reveal herself — hopefully Farrah, and make sense of this boring, disgusting, pointless country I live in.  I can tell it will work when I finish.

But I also need to get my writing practice together.  Instead of free association I need to spend ten minutes on a sentence.  Too bad I lost a few from Bridges that were pretty intense.  I need to write in  a specific direction.  And Walter has indeed helped me a great deal.

Where am I going in this life?  Where is there to go?  The darkness will come for me in the end.

The end will come for me  in the darkness.

The end will go for me in the light.

The light will be for me in the blaze.

The light will be for me in the hall.

The light in the hall will be darkness for me.

No light will be.

Farrah is here and I should then try to describe.

The feeling came over him, like smooth glass, like drowning in liquid glass.  the transparency like some reflection in a mirror.  and then there was nothing and he saw a light, a presence that tasted like metal, a kind of glare filling the center of his head and his thoughts began to echo in  another world.  The shapes were there, the people were hidden but the shapes were there and the voices of the others in the room faded to insignificance as the message, the awareness began to extend through him.  “Who are you?  What do you want?” he asked, but there came no reply.  “What is this bullshit?  Why can’t you just tell me who you are?”

But there was no voice, only the palpable sensation of someone standing beside him, it seemed as though she put her arms around him.  A flash of memory came to him then.  “Wil it always be like this?”