photograph: Me, in Bangkok Thailand at Sampran Elephant Grounds.
I will be displaying my pictures and I will be blotting out a patch of it like the famous incomplete George Washington painting so that it can not be copied, but a sample can still be seen. I would cut out a patch of paper and put it over the artwork before I show it on the internet.
Recently, Dana gave me a digital camera! How extremely nice of her! She knows that I put pictures on the internet. She told me that she had three digital cameras anyway. I will be using that to put pictures on the internet. The camera also has a built-in video feature but blogger does not have a feature that lets people posts videos.
Now, I do not always have to ask Coreen at the Kiwanis Enterprise Center to scan my pictures for me.
photograph: This is the first picture that I took on my digital camera, ever; a view outside my room window of a cloudy day. This first picture does have that grainy quality of an 18th Century dageurrotype.
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GHOST SCREAM
Sigh... I was debating whether or not to post this story, but Sylvia Browne, and James Van Praagh, and John Edwards write stories like this all the time.
And time has passed.
In October 2005, one afternoon, I was having an afternoon nap. I was staying in my hotel. I have not disclosed my address on this blog yet. None of you know where I live. Anyhow, I was sleeping and astral projecting as the dream had a heavy, syrruppy vivid feeling more than a usual dream, as astral projections usually have and I recognized the hotel I was staying in as I was returning home to my hotel. Walking up the stairs.
Illustration: From my journal which includes dream journal.
Sylvia Browne wrote, "It goes without saying that it is much easier to see ghosts when you are astral projecting because you are on the same vibrational frequency as them." I was walking up the stairs in my astral projected self. The stairs were in mirror image everything that was usually right was left including the stairwell. I was on the landing of the stairwell looking down, and I saw a young, 16 year old Native female. She was wearing a black hoody sweatshirt. I was looking down at her as her arms were folded on her knees as she sat on the step. I got a flurry of feelings from her, scared, proud, confused, angry, lost. And then I went up to my room and I recognized my bedroom, and in the doorway, a tall lady in 19th Century black flowing lace. She passed the doorway going straight across. I got a feeling from her. She was stubbornly wrapped up in her own business and thought it was only momentarily contemptibly curious as she turned her head to look at me that I would be looking at her.
photograph: A dress at the Dawson Creek museum. These dresses are typical of the middle class of the 1800s, and reminds me of the dress of the second ghost that I saw.
I screamed in my sleep. It was a real Edward Munchian scream and I remember the dream to this day. My boss Charles Kux-Kardos visited then and I was awoken when I heard a knock at the door. This was at 1:30 pm on a Friday.
I woke up feeling that I had to tell the landlady about this. I saw her a couple of minutes later, in fact, in the hall but I stopped myself because I thought that if I told her the story, she would think I was crazy.
The next day, at the same time, at 1:30 pm, maybe to be territorial, maybe to be sentimental, the power went out!
Within a couple of days a tall, big, brawny Native man knocked on the door and he asked for someone as he looked around my room.
I never saw the ghosts ever again.
Interpretation: Charles' knock disintegrated the ghosts immediate presence.
Ghosts will sometimes reappear at the same time every day to be, as I wrote, territorial and for sentimental reasons. The tall big Native man was a spiritual protector. Spiritual protectors are usually big and tall. When the ghosts saw him, they were afraid to visit my room anymore.
About a week after, I saw in the Peace River Block News obituary, that there was a 16 year old Native girl who died of a drug overdose!
Note: Two Edward Munch paintings were recently stolen. One was 'The Scream', and the other was the picture of a woman. The Police might be able to get them back. The 'Mona Lisa' was stolen at least once and recovered.
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Syndication. Right. Stacey at the Kiwanis Enterprise Center told me that msn has a syndicated blogsite in which people can post. It is syndicated, and there will be hits for sure, and probably money. Of course I retain the sole copyright of any stories I write on blogger so I will probably transfer some of my best stories, and leave out the histrionics, to the new syndicated blog site. I will let you know.
Yeah, but maybe not. If I start making money, I will start having a whole new set of worries, specifically that which is associated with belonging to a higher tax bracket. Do I guess how much I will make at the end of the year and put aside a calculated portion of my cheques until tax-time? What if I make much more than I expected? Then do I wait until tax time to cut them an entire cheque thus taking away a large percentage of a month's salary rather than a small percentage if I make calculated tax increments throughout the year.
$17,000 is the poverty line in Canada. Anyone who makes below that, net or gross, legitimately and even illegitimately probably in all likelihood has not to worry about the tax man. They got bigger fish to fry.
A syndicated blog is a form of business. William Burroughs once wrote in 'Junky', "My friend has decided to go into the pushing junk business. He figures to make a huge profit. What most people do not realize is that all business, legitimate or illegitimate is a hassle."
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"Ramble on." -Led Zeppelin
I must make an admission. For the last few months I have been misusing one of the most precious if not the most precious commodity and resource of all, my psychic force. I have always at all times, and occupying most of a day, spieled on about my parents, various and sundry bad personalities I met in Vancouver, specific incidents of disempowerment and victimization, and what did I do to them,how I wish to God that I never met this one and how I wish to God that I never met that one, and how could I revenge them. I could celebrate entire yearly anniversaries of being in this line of thought. Until now. This has got to stop. And it has.
I could now celebrate a week's anniversary of not doing that. You see, if a thought occupies your mind so much that you are rambling on about it, then that thought has clearly occupying your mind too much. Ramble on, as Led Zeppelin wrote. Absolutely goddamn right! In fact, if you are at the point where you are rambling on about something, it is already too late!!
It is important to remember not to harp on negative events of the past. It is much better to be a harper of wholesome, uplifting things.
There ought to be a law against this. When one privately rambles on interminably or allows themselves to be afraid of things that are stupid to fear, like hearing a name on the television and thinking that they are referring to someone you know, then one becomes a weak link in the chain which makes society that much weaker. As a member of a larger community, a psychic community which is the true nature of community, that which has no walls, one is responsible for going from strength to strength and not to think indolent or fearful thoughts.
There is poison in a solid form, such as pills, there is poison in liquid forms, poisons in gaseous forms and there is also psychic poisons.
Psychic energy does not solely belong to a person but is a shared resource like water from a community well, or books at a public library!
When one worries, one makes the problem double and thus introduces a psychic poison into their system. Worry in all its forms is a psychic poison.
One ought to think about the future or the present. The past can never be fully irrelevant, but it can never be anything more than semi-irrelevant either.
The past is only useful for lessons and for the good memories.
The past is the past innings of a baseball game; you are on the fourth inning now and you are the outfielder. The past is balls that have fallen on past innings, whether you caught them or not, successful, or failure. The present and the future are the balls that are coming in now and will come in future innings.
Worrying about a bad past is like worrying about having lost 5 cents because some people have had a hell of a lot worse pasts and they are millionaires!
I am placing myself psychically in airports, etc. not because there is anything wrong with my present, it is just that I am imagining an optimum future, if I had a substantial amount of money, then I would be in the technological advanced crystal palaces of modern international airports.
The future is great, but the present is no slouch either. I am enjoying the hedonistic creature comforts of watching television, etc.
I am now, always rambling on about a best possible future. And making sure that I ramble on only about this for hours on end. I am at a place in my future where I am making at least 12 flights a year. Most of the flights are in first class, and not in coach. Newsline Channel 11 Thailand has sent me a ticket to do a TV interview. I have been grandfathered in due to my blog. Global television has sent me a ticket to Toronto, Dean Noble, working for Global -that rhymes! The CBC has sent me a ticket to Ottawa. The BBC has sent me a ticket to London to do an interview. CNN has sent me a ticket to New Orleans.
In first class, one goes through the accordion hallway and turns left, instead of turning right as coach passengers do. They call in coach passengers for boarding first and first class passengers last. So as I am enjoying a charbroiled T bone steak with deep fried prawns and fettucine alfredo and a glass of beer at the airport restaurant, since I am in first class, I could take my time and leave the restaurant, paying slowly and stylishly not like the poor coach passenger that must hurry out of there now to make his boarding.
I am going through a 15 year period where I am making at least 12 flights a year, some years 75 flights. Look, the stewardess is bringing over dinner. Filet mignon, lobster thermidor, Dom Perignon champagne. Coach flights are about $1,000, 1st class
tickets for the same flight are $3,000!
I like strolling through ultra-modern and foreign international airport. There is an exhiliarating feeling of unbounded freedom.
For the first few dozen or first few hundred flights, I am flying alone. Later on, I will be joined by my wife.
And whether or not any of this comes true, I must think about this, speak out loud about this and ramble on about this again and again and again. This is much better than harping about bad parents or a benighted past.
What would I be doing at these airports and in between airports? On the week of July 17th, U.S. Secretary of State said, about the possibility personally delegating ambassadorial conferences representing the U.S., meeting various Middle East heads of State, "I could go and do shuttle diplomacy but it would not be clear what I would be shuttling to."
In this advent, I got to imagine further that because of my blog, large publishing houses or magazines would be hiring me to go to these countries and do a write-up about them, and if I include any artwork or paintings, then I would get even more!
photograph: "Spread your tiny wings and fly away. And if I could you know that I would fly away with you." -from 'Snowbird', Anne Murray
On July 26, 2006, the Snowbirds were at the Airshow in Dawson Creek. I did not ringside seats. I had better. A view of the planes flying outside my window in the luxurious comfort of my own home.
I miss C-ISL 650 radio!
And time and space is an illusion. It does not exist. Ask Albert Einstein. Time is a side-effect of living life in a track which is the 3-D reality. Time and space is an illusion of relativity.
Keeping this in mind, to lament that, for instance, "I spent thirteen years in a real bad slummy place, but for two months, I was in the arms of a beautiful girl living in the tropics." Ten thousand years is but an instant, an instant can seem like ten thousand years. When one dies, one can edit their life and cancel those thirteen years into, say 15 seconds and expand those two months in the arms of a beautiful girl to, ten years.
An event, even if it takes a hundred years to elapse, takes but an instant to understand forevermore, once the event is over. The event is not the candy, and the memories and experiential insight from the event is not the candy wrapper.
Instead the event, the actuality of going through it is the candy wrapper, the experience and insight gleaned from such event, that is the candy.
Steve Cleary has erased his email address. I emailed him again but got no reply.
Open letter to Steve Cleary: Steve, I will always be glad that I met you. You were my only European friend whom I could talk freely with about literary figures of the Western World, a topic that is at a paucity amongst Thai conversationalist. You wrote one time, "Do not take off your shirt to get a good suntan or you will get a right tanning at the Police Department." As it turns out, I am living at a tanning salon. It is not polite to still be writing to you after years. I was hoping that you would help me find an English teaching job the next time I go to Thailand. But I can ask other Thais and I guess if you don't ever write to me again, I could ask other expats to help me find an English teaching job there. I will always wish you the Best of Luck and will always think well of you in my prayers.
Steve also wrote to me, "At the end of the day, you are a friend." I hear that phrase "At the end of the day..." very often on television and it makes me think that people in the internet world like to see me and Steve become friends again.
I hope that some bloggers in Thailand who know Steve can show him this and ask him to be my friend again. Jai yen yen. Mai bpen rai. Neh non.
PS. An apology is not necessary. Ever.
I must devote my time to being happy in Dawson Creek. This town is a very nice town. Daily, I get a pleasant surprise. And that is saying something since I only venture out for about an hour a day. But after ten months here, that is dozens if not hundreds of days, and on just about each of those days, I do semi-succinctly remember that those days were peppered with benign incidents like someone smiling at me, someone holding the door open for me, someone with lots of groceries seeing that I only had a couple of items let me go ahead of them in line, friendly smiles. I must say that I am overwhelmed with the kindness of this town and I find myself throughout the day inadvertently mumbling, "I love this town." At frequent intervals.
They say that there are no shortcuts in life. Why not, if there can be such a thing as a long cut.
Actually, in the 5 Dimensional reality, there is no long cut and short cut, at any rate how can there be with perpetual teleportation?
"Short cut" and "long cut" are imaginary concepts applicable only in this dimension where everything is of different densities just as "time" is an imaginary concept.
Finally, since time and space does not exist. Here is an extension of there, and there is an extension of here, so in a way, I am in Thailand now! This place is an aspect of that place, and that place is an aspect of this. That being said, it is important now not to always wish to be somewhere else.
I got myself a cell-phone today. However, I will not be giving out my address or phone number over the internet. Anyone who wants to contact me can email me at
redfeather_607@hotmail.com
which I presume blogger already has that information for you.
photograph: Perfect Images Tanning salon, and The Mile Zero Hotel. This is an excellent establishment.
My guinea pig Pendressa delivered 5 babies on Sunday. What a feat. This reminds me of the Dionne quintuplets except one of them was stillborn. Now as it is, Pendressa has what appears to be two broken legs. It is as if she was doing the splits. It happened probably during her pregnancy when she held out her legs to support herself and meanwhile Dawson was trying to have sex with her. Usually broken legs heal in about 4 to 5 weeks. I will bring the babies to the S.P.C.A.. And if Pendressa's leg is still broken, I will bring her to the SPCA as well. Perhaps her leg is not broken at all. Her breasts are grossly swollen, and she did have a difficult pregnancy. A female of any species after having given birth to five isn't exactly going to go jogging the next day. She can move her feet not only sideways but up and down which means that her spine and legs are probably fine. I read on the internet about this,
"The vet said to let it rest."
I was worried about her during her pregnancy. But she was eating fast, her had was jerking fast, and her jaws were going fast. And there was no blood emerging from her vagina, which would have meant trouble.
A turn for the worse: Last night, on July 25th, two more babies died. Pendressa's legs are just as hopelessly broken as ever. I am going to bring her and the two babies to the S.P.C.A. today. I called them on the telephone and left a message to let them know. I was thinking what people in an agrarian society such as this one would do, one that routinely deals with the injury and death of much larger and thus much more complex creatures like cows. The S.P.C.A. might put her to sleep.
But is that worse than the option of her writhing around in agony in the bottom of the cage which I have since convered with layers of soft cloth to no avail.
The worst news: I took Pendressa and the surviving two babies to the Dawson Creek S.P.C.A.. They told me that Pendressa had indeed broken both of her legs and her pelvis was shattered from giving birth. She was euthanized.
From now on, I am only going to have one guinea pig at a time. Songkran, my friend in Thailand while I was there, when I got the one female guinea pig, Wanda, he suggested that I get a male guinea pig for her.
The joys of breeding and pregnancy is a wonderful thing at its best, but at its worst, it is a total disaster! That is why I am only going to get one guinea pig at a time.
There is such a thing, I figured as too much travel. Buddhism teaches the middle ground. So does Hegelian dialectics.
Sure when I am in my hometown, anyone that I meet there is a variable in an equation of regression to be sure, but if I travel too far, anyone I meet is a variable in an equation of irrelevancy, and unnecessary obscurity.
I am happy to be here in British Columbia. I might just stay in B.C. as I am grafted on to the B.C. Welfare system.
I really yearn for Westcoast coastal living. Victoria, Nanaimo, Prince Rupert, and on the Queen Charlotte Islands, there is Charlotte City, and one can go digging for razor clams on the beach in Masset. With the West Coast Indians, when the tide goes out, the table is set! I would meet with the Haida people. If I went to Newfoundland, P.E.I. etc. I would meet with the MiqMaq people.
I like the Prairies. Especially around Christmas, the Prairies take on a dream-like timeless quality.
I would move to the Queen Charlotte Islands. Sakidori is a Japanese term meaning the ghost of a season which is the six weeks before the start of a season. The Spring sakidori is my favourite sakidori of the year so the end of January is the best time to leave.
The blog is one way for me to pay society back for all the kindness it has bestowed on me. Welfare, going to the library and reading books from other authors for free.
All Bloggers will eventually be paid. It is a cosmic law.
The word 'blog' spelt backwards is 'golb'. But with wordgames, 333 can also be written as EEE, WWW, or MMM, so the d in 'golb' could be written as 'b', therefore blog spelt backwards, is "gold"!
Gurdjieff pointed this out in 'Meetings with Remarkable Men' when he met a Mr. Pogossian who said that God will eventually reward all work. When Pogossian was young, he walked all over Armenia to see what work and assistance he could lend. Then later, in his forties, he was a wealthy man.
The Pied Piper of Hamelin is a metaphorical tale about how forces could go wrong if people refuse to pay the piper.
When I watch a commercial on television, I pay the piper through going to the stores and getting the advertised sponsor products.
I guess when people read my blog, since the Government of Canada, and the Government of British Columbia are my sponsors, whenever someone gets something in or from B.C. and/or Canada, they are paying taxes which pay me. See, if someone orders something fro B.C. internationally, that is outside the Province of British Columbia, they would not be charged the 7% PST. But many products have built-in hidden taxes. Tobacco and gasoline are at least 75% tax!
Free.
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May Your Thoughts Be Noble,
Dean Noble
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