Destiny?
I'm not sure. Are you?
Difficult to say in a universe where we need maybe around seven other dimensions (superstring theory) for the four we're familiar with to work.
Not to speak of that thing about Time. Real time. Does it exist? Want to know? Don't look at your watch, it won't help.
Probability theory? I call it the White Goddess. Wow! She's very busy about me now.
I'm working so hard on my personal projects that it's fewer than four hours sleep a night. That's fine.
When I'm here, one change of scenery not yet up for show has moved an African marabout -- shaman, "traditional healer" if you will, "witch-doctor" no thanks! -- from one place to another.
He's in Senegal, written up a long while ago.
This morning, unexpectedly, a UPS guy showed up to give me a box for one of the iPods for repair and will be back for it soon.
So much the better (and damn all the phone calls entailed because of the supposed shut-down of my bank accounts) since, once fixed, the musical box will be heading off to next stop Dakar. In Senegal.
That's where I called Lauren with news for her. No, of course she never uses her portable while driving to work. In Dakar, where anything might fall off or out of the taxi you're trying to keep an eye on through the black filth pouring out of that truck? France Telecom will lift a little extra cash off next month because my phone bleeped this morning saying "You used up your monthly time allowance last night". That was with the Wildcat, about her projects and mine, with lots of sex and great fun.
Lauren says she off to Touba (A lovely world) early next week for a huge festival. A sacred orgy of pilgrims and sorcerers.
Bang! I'd bet the marabout will be there for the celebration in the city of the Mouride Brotherhood. A travel entry on 'Benn loxo du taccu' lines up a 'Touba trip' with the African music on an iPod due for repair -- and that's a planetary musical site I'll be visiting again when I'm less busy.
 All Lauren knows is once this entry is done I'll tell her what she might get up to in Touba. We'll also discuss the other thing. It's more fun from home -- and safer -- than when ears are falling off other people on the desk.
Don't tell Bernie, but she "owes me one", though I'm less and less into ownership with each passing day. What on earth?! Telling Bernie's OK too.
The WG pulled another stunt chez Francis. I've got to have my fortnightly dose of the X-Files, also for the Kid. She knew nothing of the part of my talk with the guru in Senegal about sex and ways to rock'n'roll better since he'd put her to sleep with a snap of his fingers. Don't want to believe me? It's true. He woke her up the same way when our serious fun was finished.
A kind-looking, astute and grey-bearded chap in the store chipped in when Francis and I were talking shop about Macs. Name of 'Paoli'. He asked me if I'd got a few minutes to come take a gander at his art and discuss a diagnosis of his Mac.
I've always time for an obvious Quiet Revolutionary who's on "tu-toi" terms with you within moments of meeting ... even when he invites you to see his etchings. Our topics of conversation included a little Mac fixing he'll need. He gave me a painting because he's a QR. I wouldn't have given him anything like his age on a cursory inspection. Well into his '70s.
"There's a lot of synchronicity in the air right now," I told Yves Simonpauli, the full name of the feller with whom I was firm friends within our quarter of an hour together. While I sussed out for starters that his Mac needs more memory, he talked copyright, quick on how it works -- and how it doesn't. He's a sharer.
I said what 'Creative Commons' (foot of every page here) are, even in France. And we did music. And Africa.
When the Kid and I check out his place in Chartres apart from the atelier round the corner. No messing around.
"C'est la pleine lune aujourd'hui," Yves informed me.
"You scarcely surprise me. The White Goddess is having a high time with me today too."
"The who?"
Two sentences were enough. I'll tell him how she does probability theory and synchronicity theory next time around.
Along with the sex. Once I've filled you in. That's in hand, along with the 'Sting in the Lotus', to inform, possibly enlighten and definitely, I hope, entertain.
"Africa?" Yves said as we shook hands before I returned to my work. "Aïe, let's hope they don't get re-colonised by the Americans! Go on doing things their way. In their time. With their their arts."
They won't. Wait for the news from Touba -- sorry, did I just turn up the heat? You'll have a great time.
Triple whammy.
That's only this morning. Later I looked more closely at Yves's card. What a good Friday! He'd told me he was a retired dentist, but prefers now to paint. There are other medical qualifications on there too.
As well as research director and university professor.
Thanks, WG. This is even better than iTunes synch and those totally tuned in "What did you think of last night's performance?" games with BJ.
How did you know whom I'd like as consultant for the next parts of the LP? Not the pulling of fangs.
Oh, knock, knock and the iPod's just left for the Netherlands.
You're quite a fixer when you feel like it, aren't you. Holy fuck! Lauren, let's not bother with the phone.
Telepathy's cheaper today. I look forward to subbing the tales from Touba, stay clear of the purple and there'll probably not be a word needing a change. When the other jaws drop, mine won't, not after this. Unless somebody gives you one of the charms recommended to make your cock bigger.
By that time, the man had shown me enough to give me the sense to say "That's very kind, but no thanks."
I've got into enough trouble with hard-ons as it is.
Pauli's painting, scanned for you here? It's on wood. He didn't tell me if he's given it a name.
I have, until he does.
'Benediction.'
I dunno why people find this kind of stuff so freaky. It's only natural.
3:54:18 PM link 
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