memetico
2004-08-19 00:46:31 UTC
Today I left Spain and arrived in Edinburgh for the festival and the
sunshine stopped. It had gone on for quite a considerable time though,
some 10 weeks, during which I've been drawn through my own dream -
slowly, helpless on the flow of ideas I'd had, now lost in the mists of
time. Here's the short version.
June: 6-17 onboard Maersk Constantia
June 18-28 Tenerife
June 29th - August 18th - Malaga - Marbella - Nerja - Granada - Ibiza -
Gibraltar + some other places better forgotten - like Benidorm
August 18th - Scotland - Edinburgh
Time. The present -
After my family went home, in stages, sometime in July, I resided at the
Villa with Joey and we waited for Dennis's arrival. I'd set this up by
phone and email with Dennis, but it wasn't till I got to Spain that he
confirmed that he'd be making it over. Hell, I've written ten thousand
words on our roadtrip, which covered much voyaging. The full story will
be told one day, but not here, not now. Let me just thrill you with the
possibilities out there....here's a short piece of our magical mystery
tour...
Title: Adapted from 'Cognition on the Costa Del Sol' for usenet
It isn't that I don't want to go out again; it's just that last night
would be hard to beat. Also, 'beat' is exactly the word we're feeling so
it doesn't take Dennis much to convince me that 'tomorrow' is going to
be hard enough to get through, even if Joey stops snoring long enough
for me to fall asleep. On the up-side, Dennis's argument convinces Joey
to move his mattress into the lounge so that I'll get some sleep, and
thus be able to drive the 600 clicks back to Las Farolas tomorrow
without unduly endangering anyone's life. Because it's already 2.00 AM,
'tomorrow' is just a word used to describe what's already happening. I
rejoice at having the room to myself and fall asleep thinking deep
orange, yellow and green thoughts.
I've slept well enough. It's now officially Saturday, and it's almost
time to return from forever - or return to forever? Whatever. We have
tickets booked for the return ferry and we're packed and ready with no
mistakes well before the 2.30 PM deadline. Lining up to say our
goodbyes, we hug Richard and the Goddesses goodbye, wishing we could've
stayed on a few nights longer. But it isn't like that because Joey has a
plane to catch at 9.00 AM Sunday morning and Dennis has to return to
Minnesota three days later. The Boys from Brazil are on a tight
schedule, even though there's 4 hours of enforced chilling on the ferry
to come. Mounting the ramp isn't without a sense of loss. This is a
place you could lose your car, your wife, your life; a nice fantasy, if
it wasn't tinged with child sacrifice, character dissolution and maybe
sudden death. Yes, the island of Tanit remains an enigmatic place,
somewhere I'll try to return to, if life works out that way. After the
usual dungeon nightmare inside the bowels of the ferry, during which I
get parted with Dennis and Joey, I find myself a chair upstairs in the
shade and start preparing myself for the mainland to appear in four
hours time, knowing that, as soon as it does, I'll be back on the
speedway.
The ferry grinds slowly past the outer breakwater. The seas are higher
than when we'd arrived but this isn't any weather because I'm from the
Cape of Storms so I don't scare so easily. I wonder how Joey and Dennis
are doing but I'm not inclined to traipse all over the boat to see where
they've crashed. Twenty minutes outside of the harbour, a giant piece of
separated coastline appears to starboard. It's like Gibraltar, cliffs
falling into the sea, a short distance off the coast of Ibiza. I wonder
what purpose it served the predecessors, and other ambient stuff.
There's no rush, so I film us cruising by the island monolith even
though I have no practical use for the footage because chronicling
things doesn't need reason. It's a tech-fix, inducing enhanced memory
slices of fractal reality which bite back at you when least you expect
it. Will we always be at the edge of what's acceptable to print created,
media violated and consumer dominated humanity, or is there a lesson
somewhere that can be passed on memetically to the next continuum. If
so, then what's the lesson? At this time, I fall into a shallow trance,
peripherally aware that Dennis is reading a book with his eyes closed on
the couch behind me.
Schwann Cybershaman
Las Farolas
Malaga
Costa Del Sol
Spain
9th August 2004
© All Media. 9th August 2004. Mythmaking and Legend by Schwann
sunshine stopped. It had gone on for quite a considerable time though,
some 10 weeks, during which I've been drawn through my own dream -
slowly, helpless on the flow of ideas I'd had, now lost in the mists of
time. Here's the short version.
June: 6-17 onboard Maersk Constantia
June 18-28 Tenerife
June 29th - August 18th - Malaga - Marbella - Nerja - Granada - Ibiza -
Gibraltar + some other places better forgotten - like Benidorm
August 18th - Scotland - Edinburgh
Time. The present -
After my family went home, in stages, sometime in July, I resided at the
Villa with Joey and we waited for Dennis's arrival. I'd set this up by
phone and email with Dennis, but it wasn't till I got to Spain that he
confirmed that he'd be making it over. Hell, I've written ten thousand
words on our roadtrip, which covered much voyaging. The full story will
be told one day, but not here, not now. Let me just thrill you with the
possibilities out there....here's a short piece of our magical mystery
tour...
Title: Adapted from 'Cognition on the Costa Del Sol' for usenet
It isn't that I don't want to go out again; it's just that last night
would be hard to beat. Also, 'beat' is exactly the word we're feeling so
it doesn't take Dennis much to convince me that 'tomorrow' is going to
be hard enough to get through, even if Joey stops snoring long enough
for me to fall asleep. On the up-side, Dennis's argument convinces Joey
to move his mattress into the lounge so that I'll get some sleep, and
thus be able to drive the 600 clicks back to Las Farolas tomorrow
without unduly endangering anyone's life. Because it's already 2.00 AM,
'tomorrow' is just a word used to describe what's already happening. I
rejoice at having the room to myself and fall asleep thinking deep
orange, yellow and green thoughts.
I've slept well enough. It's now officially Saturday, and it's almost
time to return from forever - or return to forever? Whatever. We have
tickets booked for the return ferry and we're packed and ready with no
mistakes well before the 2.30 PM deadline. Lining up to say our
goodbyes, we hug Richard and the Goddesses goodbye, wishing we could've
stayed on a few nights longer. But it isn't like that because Joey has a
plane to catch at 9.00 AM Sunday morning and Dennis has to return to
Minnesota three days later. The Boys from Brazil are on a tight
schedule, even though there's 4 hours of enforced chilling on the ferry
to come. Mounting the ramp isn't without a sense of loss. This is a
place you could lose your car, your wife, your life; a nice fantasy, if
it wasn't tinged with child sacrifice, character dissolution and maybe
sudden death. Yes, the island of Tanit remains an enigmatic place,
somewhere I'll try to return to, if life works out that way. After the
usual dungeon nightmare inside the bowels of the ferry, during which I
get parted with Dennis and Joey, I find myself a chair upstairs in the
shade and start preparing myself for the mainland to appear in four
hours time, knowing that, as soon as it does, I'll be back on the
speedway.
The ferry grinds slowly past the outer breakwater. The seas are higher
than when we'd arrived but this isn't any weather because I'm from the
Cape of Storms so I don't scare so easily. I wonder how Joey and Dennis
are doing but I'm not inclined to traipse all over the boat to see where
they've crashed. Twenty minutes outside of the harbour, a giant piece of
separated coastline appears to starboard. It's like Gibraltar, cliffs
falling into the sea, a short distance off the coast of Ibiza. I wonder
what purpose it served the predecessors, and other ambient stuff.
There's no rush, so I film us cruising by the island monolith even
though I have no practical use for the footage because chronicling
things doesn't need reason. It's a tech-fix, inducing enhanced memory
slices of fractal reality which bite back at you when least you expect
it. Will we always be at the edge of what's acceptable to print created,
media violated and consumer dominated humanity, or is there a lesson
somewhere that can be passed on memetically to the next continuum. If
so, then what's the lesson? At this time, I fall into a shallow trance,
peripherally aware that Dennis is reading a book with his eyes closed on
the couch behind me.
Schwann Cybershaman
Las Farolas
Malaga
Costa Del Sol
Spain
9th August 2004
© All Media. 9th August 2004. Mythmaking and Legend by Schwann
