under another sun

Brain fog again Brain fog continues. Most days my concentration is excellent. I am very lucky. But today, I was losing the thread every three or four minutes. Even mindmaps and listing things weren't helping. A boring day of dealing with tax, accountants, my old agency (wanting me to out forms before I can be paid for the paltry two days they still owe me). Unable to focus, apart from a brief spell in the magic cafe. Stared dully at TV in the evening watching Manchester United get beaten. I hope the brain business lifts before I arrive in Guernsey. Poor Lorraine undergoing ghastly house moving stress. Not much I can do to help, other than listen. Shaila gave me some Buddhism books she picked up while in Hong Kong. I was reading one in bed last night, and the calmness and lack of judgement that exuded from it is so refreshing. Religions other than Buddhism seem to me increasingly absurd. I have no problem with the idea of God - I love God - but religious hierarchies, or people who s...

Mind maps and a mouse Chernobyl Downloaded an abridged version of The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying and listened to it on the train. John Cleese reading it, as well as Sogyal Rinpoche the author, and others. I noticed John Cleese at the three day retreat I attended with Sophie, which was led by Sogyal Rinpoche himself. Listening to it is surprisingly cheering, and like a burst of sanity as you scrabble ratlike from the train platforms at Victoria down into the tunnels of the tube. Arriving at London I picked up a free Metro which had a false front and back page covered in stories about Watchmen . The movie is out shortly in the UK. I read the graphic novel last year while I was in Greece, and found Alan Moore's story intriguing. The advertising for the movie covering the Metro (usually only worth reading for the excellent translated Norwegian cartoon strip Nemi ) was very well done though, and true to the style of the original graphic novel. Interestingly Moore's name was...

A shower at last Another soul sapping journey up to London. It was cold last night, and this did something to a rail which resulted in chaos for thousands of commuters south of London. Arrived at work a mere three hours and fifteen minutes after I set off. It really is astonishing how vile Southern Railways has been lately. I am looking forward to stopping the commute again soon. Once at work however, I had a reasonable day. Betsy as usual making me laugh. She was teasing me about the state of the desk I am using, and she help up some A4 and, showing it to me, said 'this is more than one piece of paper' to teach me that paper can be tidied into a block. The agency staff went for a meeting towards the end of the day and I as a freebooting freelancer was able to melt away early, capering with delight all the way to the tube. And the low orange sun still in the sky as the train crossed the Thames. Fish and chips from Sing Li, and a quick laser session with the cat (it's like c...

Back to the Buddha I have booked a holiday to Guernsey, where I can spiritually and physically recharge - and will be zooming off in a couple of weeks. Mum will come with me for part of the holiday too. Her first break since finishing chemotherapy. Lorraine will also come for a few days later on. I'll also take my laptop and work on my Skelton Yawngrave story while I'm there too. Among other things I need to reboot exercise and meditation. Lorraine's son Sam will cat sit, which is handy. Although he may have his hands full. Calliope was in trying mode today: waking me up hideously early, scratching for half an hour at the door until let in again, falling into the bath, attacking my feet while I am half asleep. While I was out she festooned the stairs with lengths of shredded toilet roll from the bathroom, and complained bitterly about her gourmet food. At work Betsy taught me two new words today; fauxhawk, which is a haircut a bit like a Mohican (aka a Mohawk in the US). An...

A kind of closure Appalling dreams all night: one in which everything was blurry so that nothing in the dream could be clearly seen. Never had that one before, and frankly I don't want it again. I am very stressed at the moment, and my dreams are reflecting this. The obvious reading of the dream is there are situations in my life that I cannot properly see yet. Things settled down over a breakfast of tea and buttered crumpets with Mum and Mase. Mase suggested I should write a list, and I began to create an elaborate anxiety mindmap (complete with drawings) on the tube, which I was rather enjoying. But when I reached Baker Street the police called me to confirm that the guy who'd knocked suspiciously on my door a few weeks ago was also my burglar. This made me feel better right away. The thief was a Polish guy called Christian, as he told me at the time. He was collared 40 minutes later breaking in somewhere else. The DNA matches the gore in my house, and he is pleading guilty o...