Requested warning: workplace unfriendly entry.
You may be surrounded by people who object to an almost naked woman trying to get the rest off though stuck by the most impractical shoes.
Cameron's reinstatement may be an end to such forays, no promises.
I'm on "Africa time".
Yesterday I was catching up with friends again, because this is a wonderful free week. A foreign lass asked me: "Hey, when I was Paris that time and flashing tips around, was I wearing a pink bra or a light blue one?"
"How do I know? Why anyway?"
A misunderstanding, that was, since we'd been comparing the differences between the cost of living in Paris and London and eating out.
"Ohh," I said, remembering a remarkable striptease, once blogged. "Your tits. I thought you said tips as the restaurants. Darling, you weren't wearing a bra at all. You've got very nice tits."
A recall of "the Excalibur episode" may not please the woman who dropped in from London, but almost anything goes. This is quite a long-awaited week off. Martin didn't sound altogether cheerful when a note from Lauren arrived just before he quit himself on Friday.
"Oh," said MB, who'll be running the Africa news coverage at the Factory in my stead most days, "I didn't know Lauren was going to be off as well."
She's headed north to cross a border and spend a few days finding out what's really happening in Mauritania, a Muslim desert country where Islamists (Wikipedia for a good definition), who aren't extremists determined to see women well hidden in black from head to foot, are still at odds with a regime prone to locking them up.
Me, I don't have to look at clocks and worry about deadlines. I've got so much to do and started by failing to go to bed again on Friday night.
One of my first jobs is to try again to reassure people who've found this log hard to read of late, less because of weariness, pressure for time and the big change in my life that has flummoxed people.
During those catching up 'phone calls, the Wildcat put her finger right on what's "wrong" not for some of my friends and readers, but for three who've come out with it and said they find it hard now to see what I'm on about sometimes.
I know I'm long-winded and shouldn't blog when I'm too knackered, but she found the right words, so I know what to think while Cameron gets back her day. She won't be high for long.
 "You're got the banter going again fine and one feels there's a message sometimes but you're elliptical," the Wildcat said. "It's as if there's something you'll never quite say."
She's right, absolutely right. There is something I'll never quite say since the current "really, luv?" phase of the log has a sub-plot. The Wildcat was also quick to note that aversion to explanations I've mentioned of late.
In writing about the music and arts, sometimes the job, plenty of people and the sub-plot until last November -- getting myself sorted out with the help of the Shrinkess-Shaman and of friends including Ellie, despite my lunatic notion she was the woman of my life -- I like being very open about it.
The limits are telling stories about others who don't want them told and one of the biggest lessons of setting my mind back to rights: there are no explanations for much of what happened and all I've understood since.
I can make statements. I know myself, finally, and live with it happily. I'm very good at helping others with problems in relationships and if I know where they are should they get stuck and miserable in their own process of "growing up", "spiritual development", whatever it's labelled. I'm learning to develop psychic powers I've always had, rather than repress them.
Most people know my credo already. I don't believe in god but am sure people's lives have purpose and meaning: none of the most important encounters we make in our lives merely happen by "accident" or chance. We all have free will should we want to use it. Since I now have real freedom, I've decided what I'm going to do with it.
The Wildcat is one of the very analytical people I know, while Eleanor is one of the least. My life has been a constant search for explanations, but when I find them, mainly in science, one thing here has changed.
The science of the paranormal, in particular, is difficult: you have to know what's going down notably in particle physics, neurobiology, a whole bunch of heavy stuff. I have a very high I.Q. and can get my head round it all. If you don't follow such sciences, the "supernatural" is anecdotal.
But -- and I won't spell this out again -- I'm no longer out to explain everything I know. There may be "messages" sometimes but I'm no evanglist.
Nobody needs that. Things happen to all of us that can't be explained. A while ago, I had some more "paranormal" insights so extraordinary and unexpected I've left it until this week to pursue them.
I've "met" someone without knowing her, done a little bit more travelling inside the head of somebody else, asked for and got a partial explanation of what happens in such cases from a retired clinical psychologist in the States. I'd tell you his name if he's not happier being retired. I reached him via on online friend, he understood my "need to know", why it matters sometimes when I do this, told me all he could. He was so nice he even paid for the 'phone bill!
That's all. Occasionally I'll make very weird assertions that need backing up, but this is a blog, not the Factory. I've been only too good at pushing people with what I feel and what I know, and that'sbad news for all concerned. It didn't help them, it sometimes hurt them, I confused them. I've told you before how good it is to have friends who have stuck around despite so much shit, even when I was a real mess.
That's heavy, tough going. I don't want to do it any more. People who want the science, for instance, if I'm on about the Quiet Revolution and other things I'm interested in can ask me. If I've time, I'll tell you what I know, where to find it and who else to ask.
But just as I've largely swept politics off the log, I don't like writing this kind of thing and would rather keep people entertained and amused, simply telling stories. You'll also get links I find fascinating.
There's no point in remaining someone here I no longer feel I am in the rest of the world, it bores me and probably bores you. That doesn't mean I won't say when I'm in a black mood or cross enough about something to vent, as I've done about the mess of the modern media.
There's so much funny and absurd stuff, as well as heaps of good music, to write about, as well as what I'm thinking about what to do with the film. Some of the people around me have become so precious I don't link to the bloggers I like nearly as often as I did. I thought that would be a passing phenomenon while I assimilated all that has happened to me. It isn't, but I still keep up with most people in the blogroll.
I enjoy feedback and I think encouraging people is very important, like acknowledging your own achievements. But you're you, I'm me, and many of you are a long way away. I can't do it all. I'm into music so much again -- and about time too, since it was nearly my career -- that I'd prefer to promote VoWs and get on with my other project.
I've got the message about where I'm difficult to follow. There's a likelihood I've got networking so right that I've also got a big risk in mind! It's time to put my part in the Quiet Revolution to a test.
In the meantime, thank you, Cameron, for livening up these dry words.
The subplot to this log an optional extra, but sexual fancies and especially practices are part of the LP. It seems to me that QR people know what to do with their fantasies.
I have a tongue sometimes so deep in my cheek it's making a hole, but obviously not everyone knows irony when they see it. I keep much related material in "the orchard" (or "secret heartbeats" pages). Cameron's here to remind me and show you how bad it can get when you typecast people.
EB's truer to herself than to "type". Now her picture's somewhere on the log, like my other friends. What we got wrong is behind us. When she said she thought I was "addicted" to the past, I told her where to shove addiction and other such notions. She did.
With trepidation, I give you a link to a "cast", portrayed back in August last year when I first asked 'May I tell you about this wonderful dream I had have...?' That part of the orchard is largely a museum to folly, but I keep it.
After all, that entry was probably the silliest. As such, it merits a new title giving a useful hint to men: 'How to scare the wits out of woman!'
Next in line, folks, will be some words about a subject sometimes now a source of entertainment with women. Being ever curious, I can't help but ask the ones I know about what they do when they're short of a man. The replies have been ... odd.
3:26:52 PM 
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