Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories they’re haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye

Even with our fists held high
It never would’ve worked out right
We were never meant for do or die

I didn’t want us to burn out
I didn’t come here to hold you, now I can’t stop

I want you to know that it doesn’t matter
Where we take this road someone’s gotta go
And I want you to know you couldn’t have loved me better
But I want you to move on so I’m already gone

Looking at you makes it harder
But I know that you’ll find another
That doesn’t always make you want to cry

Started with a perfect kiss then we could feel the poison set in
Perfect couldn’t keep this love alive
You know that I love you so, I love you enough to let you go

I want you to know that it doesn’t matter
Where we take this road someone’s gotta go
And I want you to know you couldn’t have loved me better
But I want you to move on so I’m already gone

I’m already gone, already gone
You can’t make it feel right when you know that it’s wrong
I’m already gone, already gone
There’s no moving on so I’m already gone

Already gone, already gone, already gone
Already gone, already gone, already gone, yeah

Remember all the things we wanted
Now all our memories they’re haunted
We were always meant to say goodbye

I want you to know that it doesn’t matter
Where we take this road someone’s gotta go
And I want you to know you couldn’t have loved me better
But I want you to move on so I’m already gone

I’m already gone, already gone
You can’t make it feel right when you know that it’s wrong
I’m already gone, already gone
There’s no moving on so I’m already gone

“it’s okay, you guys can work things out! when both parties are willing” said lene. “yeah true…” marrie agreed. Maybe he’s just tired, she thought to herself.  “Actually, i’m tired of coming up with maybe-s for him. maybe he’s tired, maybe he had a hard day, maybe i was harsh, maybe he’s asleep…..” confessed the girl who loves him too much.

why not, perhaps?                                                                                                                                                                                                               perhaps he is angry, perhaps he needs some air, perhaps he didn’t really notice… does it make a difference now?

I know its been a while since I wrote… sorry, that’s life. Things have been busy and I can’t say I’ve been overly motivated.  What’s worse is that the break from it all is just about over and I don’t feel any more ready to take it all on. I’m supposed to be refreshed and rejuvenated yet all I am is… disappointed.  I miss it here, I miss the people. But I learned I may have a skewed sense of reality when it comes to this place.  Turns out its not the same when I’m gone and all those things I think I’m missing I’m not, because they only occur when I am here. Bizarre and very unhelpful in helping guide my future.

Today my family went and returned the dog they bought two days ago, it was a really sad moment but at least he is with his mother again so that is good.

The reason why we returned him to the seller/owner wasn’t because we don’t love him, but because he hasn’t been eating since he got in our house.

Even though the time we spent together was short, he is still a really good puppy to have.  I will surely miss him and some where in my heart, he will stay with us forever. (Kind of cheesy I know…)

The Red Suitcase (The Return Home and a New Beginning)
Rhonda moved in slow motion. She appeared to be awake but she was oblivious to the people around her. She was in a different world, a world of spirits and past lives. She continued to argue with someone who was not present, someone giving her directions on where to go and what to do. She grabbed one of the bags stacked neatly in front of her. “I need to put on my makeup and freshen up first. Give me a minute.” She paused and then said softly, “O.k., I’ll hurry.”
I watched her go through a ritual of organizing her suitcases and making sure that none of her bags of food had been moved and were in proper sequence. She adjusted a few of the bags, shifting them a few inches one way or another. Finally satisfied with her efforts, she patted her pillow and spoke to it endearingly, and then moved briskly down the aisle.
I wanted to follow as close as I could without disturbing her trance, but I was interrupted by the two women I had protected before. “He’s after us again,” one of the women said. “Won’t he ever stop?”
Mercury boy was trailing after them, stopping to pose whenever they looked. He saw me heading his way and he disappeared into the neighboring car.
“I’ll speak to the attendant about him,” I said. “Somebody needs to keep an eye on him. He seems a bit weird.”
One of the women, who appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties, said, “I’m Joy and this is Ann. We hate to keep bothering you but no one else seems to care. Do you mind if we tag along with you?”
I wanted to say I was on a secret mission but all I could say was, “Sure, I don’t mind. I was following that woman who sat across the aisle from me.”
Joy looked at me with confusion. “You’re not stalking her, are you?”
I was amused. “No, I think she might have something of mine. But now I’ve lost her and I don’t know where she went.”
“We’ll help you find her. She can’t be far,” Ann said.
It was settled before I had a chance to object. I did not ask for help or desire help, but now I had two helpers looking for Rhonda. I wasn’t sure if this new development would make things easier or harder. Three heads surely must be better than one, although I was already confused as to how Rhonda fit into the red suitcase dilemma and two more people might just muddy the waters even more.
“What does she have of yours?” Joy asked.
“I think she might have my red suitcase,” I replied. “She seems to be on a mission to get something and I’m hoping that my suitcase is included in her mission.”
Joy and Ann exchanged quick glances but I saw enough to realize that they thought I had lost my mind. I was following a woman who might have something of mine or not. This undertaking could be totally founded on desperate guessing on my part. In spite of their misgivings the women were here for two reasons. They were curious and they didn’t want to face Mercury boy who stalked them.
I suggested we split up but they thought that was a bad idea. We brainstormed and headed downstairs to the most logical place, the baggage compartment.
Rhonda was not there, neither was my suitcase. We began looking car by car. We checked the observation car, the dining car, and two passenger cars, but we had no luck finding Rhonda. We had almost given up and were in the last passenger car when Ann spotted her emerging from the stairwell. We stepped to the side and Rhonda strode past us, evidently still in her trance. We watched her go into the adjoining car and then we went down the stairs. We checked the open baggage rack, sorted through the suitcases, and then replaced them. There were several red ones, but mine was not there. There was a baggage compartment, or room, to the side of the stairs. The door, which was usually locked, was slightly ajar as if someone had left in a hurry. There were suitcases and duffle bags, a wheel chair, golf clubs, and a few other items, all stacked and placed neatly in order by size and color. This was not the work of one of the train employees. This room was organized by someone who liked order everywhere.
Eagerly I began going through the suitcases. Joy and Ann caught my enthusiasm and began searching in earnest. Suddenly Joy whooped, “Is this one yours?” She pointed to a red suitcase. It had no name tag but I knew it was mine. I opened it up. Everything was in place, not neatly placed, but with my kind of organization. There was also a note. I read it slowly out loud. “Dear Sir, you needed something to brighten up your life so I took the time to create a few incidents you could write about. It made my trip more enjoyable also. Maybe we will meet again. Sincerely, Martha.”
By now I was almost a believer in ghosts, but not quite. It would take more to convince me. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to play pranks on this trip. But the enigma remained. I knew of no one who had traveled all the side trips with me and was currently on this train. There was no answer that made sense. I would have to think about the physical improbabilities another time because, for now, I had my suitcase and my trip was almost over.
Ann and Joy insisted we celebrate the recovery of my suitcase. I toted it along as we went to the lounge and I ordered wine for the three of us. We sipped the wine slowly as we conversed, and I relaxed, relieved that order had been restored. We decided to have lunch together. During that time I told them about my situation at home and how I had resolved to give my marriage another try.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Ann said. “I’m a family marriage counselor. The hardest part is getting people to make a commitment when things get tough. Give me a call if you need any help.”
Joy nodded. “I’m a secretary for a legal firm. I see people all the time who are in the process of separating or getting a divorce. Their lives are in shambles and they are bitter and angry. You don’t have that anger or bitterness. You still have hope.”
I took down their names, phone numbers, and e-mail addresses and promised I would contact them and let them know how things were going. I followed them back to their seats. We looked around, but Mercury boy was nowhere to be found. I checked with the attendant. Mercury boy had gotten off at the last stop. Another stroke of good fortune. Ann and Joy would not have to worry about him the rest of their trip.
When the train arrived in Galesburg, I got off and waited for my train to Kansas City. I rested on a bench inside the station for two hours watching people come and go. I appeared to be calm but inside there was turmoil. What would I say to my wife? Would I be nonchalant or matter-of-fact about seeing a counselor? I knew the going could get even rougher as we worked out issues that were bothering us both. I began rehearsing what I would say when I faced her.
The train arrived as scheduled and I boarded, found my seat and began writing down my thoughts regarding us. I scarcely noticed the beautiful green scenery as we sped by. As we neared Kansas City I gathered my suitcase and duffle bag and waited downstairs by the exit.
Another man stood waiting, anxious to be off the train. I asked him where he had traveled this summer. He said he was on the road a lot, working for a trucking firm. Sometimes he would take the train for fun just to visit friends and family but he was always happy to get back to familiar surroundings. We talked for a few minutes. He told me he was engaged to be married in one month to the girl of his dreams. They had met while he was playing college baseball. When his knee got damaged, their wedding plans fell apart. He didn’t think he could support a wife on a regular salary but after a few months his thinking turned around. He wanted her to be part of his life. He was afraid she had found another but she was still waiting patiently, knowing he would be back.
That was the kind of story I needed to hear. Two people willing to work things out, never giving up, always in love despite circumstances.
The train ground to a halt as it entered the station. Would somebody be waiting for me? Would this be a new beginning? I pulled my suitcase down the long runway to the waiting room. I looked around and saw strangers everywhere but no one for me. I called several numbers but no one answered. It was eleven p.m. and I wasn’t sure how long I should wait. I heard a siren go by outside so I decided to wait thirty minutes in case there was a delay due to traffic or some other problem. I waited and I waited. Finally I grew impatient and called a taxi. In minutes I was on my way. It was not what I had wanted, but at least I was heading home and I could work out any details or misunderstandings when I got there.
“Nobody came to pick you up? That’s a bad sign,” the cabbie said, trying to break the silence. “You been gone long?”
“She must have fallen asleep or maybe the car wouldn’t start.” Why was I trying to cover for her? We had two cars and if one didn’t start, the other one would. I was not in the mood to find fault with her. I had already gone through that and now I was determined to rediscover only good things. I chatted about the places I’d been and the people I’d seen but stayed away from complaining or anything negative.
The thirty minute drive home passed quickly. We entered the subdivision, wound up the hill and then down my street. At the bottom of the hill in the cul de sac and along the street were four pickups, three cars, and two large moving trucks. All the lights in my house were on. My neighbors were watching from their windows or standing outside watching the commotion. People were carrying furniture, clothes, and anything moveable to the trucks, cars, and pickups. It was dark but everything looked familiar.
“What is going on?” I thought as I walked into the house. My wife saw me and paled.
Three husky men put down the objects they were carrying and headed towards me. “You’re not welcome here, at least not right now,” one of the men said. “We’re almost finished. We’ll all be out of here in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
I was furious but I kept my temper in check. I had learned a lesson from Zeke. Violence was not the answer to this kind of problem, at least for me. Who could I contact to stop this madness?
I decided there was nothing I could do except wait. Morning would come and I would discover that this was just a bad dream. But even as I claimed it was a dream, reality was already sinking in. My marriage was over. My wife was leaving and taking everything with her.
All the trucks and cars left and I checked out the house. Everything was gone. Pictures of me, my children, and heirlooms were missing, as well as the furnishings. The house was bare, from wall to wall, except for the built-in appliances. I stumbled from room to room, checking out the damage and trying to remember what had been there. It was a task I was too tired to handle at the moment.
I needed to check out my financial state in the morning and see if anything was left. My mind raced. I needed a lawyer and I needed a counselor just for my own sanity. Things were as I had expected but not as I wanted them to be. While I was gone and playing, she was planning and getting advice. I did not believe that divorce was the answer but I could see no other choice. I was now older, but not wiser. My trip home was not triumphant and happy. I arrived to find my marriage in ruins and my house ransacked. Now I would have to start over. I was sad and miserable but not defeated. I was tough enough to restart. My life was just beginning. I still had my red suitcase, my duffle bag, and the clothes on my back. What more did I need?
The End.

Extracts of an update note following Slaley Hall Digital Challenge information day 24th February

Regional Bid
• ODPM would not look favourably on a regional bid
o Too big an area to spread the investment over.
o Could be a regional bid only as the first stage of a much bigger longer-term (15yr regional digital strategy).
• We need to re-consider our bid preparation activities
• A £7m project focussed on a specific community is required
o Something you can take visitors to see
o Could this be a community of interest or a digital community, such as equipping every sheltered home with a public access PC?
• Do we have such a proposal?
o Ideas identified so far may not meet these criteria
o Who will decide which community / communities benefit over others? What are our bid development governance arrangements?

Funding
• Funds are £3m in cash from Government plus £4m in kind from sponsoring companies
o Consultancy skills
o Software services
o Content, ideas
o Complement existing company charitable support activities
• Is to do something extra over and above ‘business as usual’

Bid Development
• A ‘marketplace’ will be established to help organisations find partners
• There is probably a regional role in supporting bid development / providing QA experts
• In the north west the RDA is involved in supporting bid development

Regional Shortlisting
• A shortlist of perhaps 5 bids in the region will be taken down to 2 bids by in-region peers
• Regional winners will receive £120k + support from sponsors
• The regional short-listing panel is likely to involve ONE, GONE, VONNE, Strategic Health Partnership plus the Digital Challenge Programme Board.

• There is no guarantee that there will be a short listed ‘finalist’ from each region

Checklist / Pointers
• Need an innovative stated ‘vision’ of how the community should be
o Proposals must have a unique ‘edge’
o Innovation might be how you do something or where you do it or the scale that you do it at rather than what you’re doing
o What’s the one social issue that needs addressing?
 How does that align with local and national agendas?
 How can you turn that into something you can show people and tell them about?
• Mustn’t just replicate your Community Strategy – this is different
• Concentrate on
o Engaging citizens from start and not be top-down
o End to end service transformation
o Inclusion
 Ensure you include the ‘can’t’, ‘won’t’, and ‘don’t need to’s (relevance)
o What’s important for people and the environment they live in
o A commitment to a ‘vision’ for a place
o Analyse the proposal
• Ensure citizens, private, public and voluntary agencies
• Show what is possible, probable and will actually happen
• Councils maybe shouldn’t lead projects – community should, but funds need to be channelled through a local authority.
• Need to demonstrate how we would be an exemplar and what we could offer back to peers from across the country
• Kiosks are now seen as a ‘business as usual channel’ rather than innovative – however multi channel delivery of the same services is more innovative
• Need to cross reference to DfES Harnessing Technology and DoH Connecting for Health
• Needs to fit Regional Economic Strategy
• Illustrate technical competence and proper governance
• There was mention of a ‘new deal for devolution’ which may be worth investigation, as could the new Cabinet ‘Respect’ position
• A partnership (building) checklist was supplied

There’s a possibility
All that I had was all I was gona get

There’s a possibility
All I was gona get is gone with your step

So tell me when you hear my heart stop,
You’re the only who knows
Tell me when you hear my silence
There’s a possibility
I wouldn’t know

Know that when you leave
By blood and by mean
You walk like a thief
By blood and by mean
I fall when you leave

Tell me when my sigh is over
You’re the reason why I’m close
Tell me when you hear me falling
There’s a possibility
It wouldn’t show

By blood and by mean
I fall when you leave
By blood and by mean
I follow your lead

it doesn’t look right. i’m unhappy. it’s swooped down on me in the most unexpected of ways. i’m not feeling good within myself. i feel huge &unattractive &stupid. &i don’t know where it’s come from. i just want to be in trousers &a huge jumper. ‘&you give yourself away. &you give yourself away. &you give. &you give. &you give yourself away.’

I always feel the emptiness of my heart. Like no one really cares about me or how I feel. Do I have ADHD? LOL kidding.

It’s just that… when some of my friends are really sad about something, me and my other friends would try to console whoever that person is but if it’s me whose being rained with everything so unlucky, I’m being ignored as if I’m invisible. I’m pretty sure they can see me anyway so why this?! I’m actually encountering a lot of shits these days and it’s killing me. My lola [trans: grandmother] passed away (I love her a lot. I literally cried glasses of tears for her. LOL who doesn’t?) and my dad is being a total asshole (he’s having an affair with some woman again and he wants to leave his real family, us.). Everyday is a living hell for me and obviously I am not liking it. I seriously want to end everything… like kill my own self but I won’t do that of course. I’m still young. I still have a lot of dreams that I want to pursue.

I would appreciate it if my friends would at least try to sense how I feel. This pain is like a dagger on my heart. I don’t think this is fair. =( I’m not being treated nicely. I mean, if they hate me this much, I hope they tell. I’d rather be a loner than have friends who don’t care about me. Because when you look at it, being a loner is similar with having friends who… who… who can’t even try to consider your feelings. :/ It has always been like this. They are the few people I’m counting on… I’m living for… And this is how it always end up: me, left forlorn at some place. D:

Well, I might be acting selfish again right now… but I really feel so alone.

para kanino pa ba ang mga sinusulat ko?
para kanino pa ba itong pag-ibig na alay ko?
para kanino pa ba ang kantang aking ikinakanta?
para kanino pa ba kaya ako nabubuhay?

ngayong wala ka, dapat pa ba akong umasa?
ngayong wala ka, dapat pa ba akong maghintay?
ngayong wala ka, kaya ko ba maging masaya?
ngayong wala ka, kaya ko pa bang magmahal ng tunay?

ngunit, bakit ngayon, pumapatak ang luha?
ngunit, bakit ngayon, tumatangis ang aking dibdib?
ngunit, bakit ngayon, nanginginig ang aking mga laman?
ngunit, bakit ngayon, wala nang sigla ang aking kaluluwa?

bakit hindi na makuhang tumuwa pang muli?
bakit hindi na maitago ang ramdam kong ikinukubli?
bakit hindi na tumigil yaring luhang tangis ng pusong sawi?
bakit hindi na makaundagaga sa kakadama ng mga atubili?

nasan ka na ba?
ngayo’y tingin ko’y lahat ng pangako’y naglaho!
nasan ka ba?
gayong mga sumpa nati’y nawalan lahat ng bisa!
nasan ka na ba?
ngayong lagapak ang aking katauhan!

bakit mo ko iniwang nag-iisa?
ni hindi na sumulat pa,
ni hindi na tumawag pa.
nakalimutan mo na nga ba?
mga hindi mapalitang tawanan nating dalwa?
mga hindi makalimutang iyakan nating dalwa?
hindi mo na nga ba matandaan?
iyong nadaramang init at tuwa kapag ika’y hinahalikan?
iyong nadaramang saya at galak kapag ika’y hinahagkan?
humuhupay na nga ba?
mga alaala nating dalawa?
ang pag-ibig na ating isinumpang walang wakas?
o iwinala na?
ng bago mong pag-ibig?
o sa simula’t sapul pa lang,
balewala na ang lahat?

sa tingin mo ba’y magiging kaibigan pa?
para sa kin hindi na! tinapos mo na!
hindi na muli maibabalik pa!
dahil sa pagiging magkaibigan
hindi ka na akin!
hindi na kita mahahagkan!
hindi ko na mahahawakan ang mga kamay mo!
hindi ko na malalaro ang buhok mo!
sapagkat hindi ko ugaling magsinungaling sa sarili!
lalo na kapag ukol sayo ang aking nadaramang muli!
wala akong nais ikubli!
tandaan mong ikaw ang susi!
sa puso kong iyong iwinawaksi.

pagkatandaan mo, kapag ka’y umalis
ikaw na ang siyang pumaslang sa dating ako
sa yumaong masayahing nakilala mo, ng lahat
hindi na mababago, sapagkat nakaguhit na ito
sa nagitla kong katauhan na iyo ring inalipusta
sa ngalan ng iyong pag-ibig na iyong winakasan na.

“There’s a hole in the world now … A center, like no other, of memory and hope and knowledge and affection which once inhabited this earth is gone. Only a gap remains. A perspective in this world unique in this world which once moved about in this world has been rubbed out … There’s nobody who saw just what he saw, knows what he knew, remembers what he remembered, loves what he loved … Questions I have can never now get answers. The world is emptier.”

Nicholas Wolterstorff, Lament of a Son

Who hasn’t thought about it?

Yes, but how hard is it for someone to disappear in the digital age? Author Evan Ratliff goes on the lam for WIRED Magazine with that question in mind. The article “Gone” reads like a techno-thriller,but ends with a poignant twist that touches the heart of story, and why we need one.

Turns out the biggest hazard is loneliness.

He writes:

Had I shown that a person, given enough resources and discipline, could vanish from one life and reinvent himself in another? . . . More than all that, I’d discovered how quickly the vision of total reinvention can dissolve into its lonely mundane reality. Whatever reason you might have for discarding your old self and the people who went with it, you’ll need more than a made-up backstory and a belt full of cash to replace them.

The story of what happens when you don’t have a story is worth reading.

I have heard that I will miss you when “you’re gone,”
I have heard that I will miss you when “I am gone,”
You’re here-
and I can’t-
LOVE you.
You are here now
and you can’t-
LOVE me.

I do not want to lose what closeness is between us-
but I feel that I already have.
I feel when I go-
you WILL miss me-
but you will have came too late.
You will have been too late upon responding to my heart-

Why can’t you see-

I am BEGGING for your love, but you don’t see it.
I am PLEADING for your support-
but you are both too blinded by the
PAIN
FRUSTRATION
ANGER
you have with one another.

I can’t stay here,
I KNOW my calling is in a place I desire not to be in,
but I know my faith is calling me there,
but you won’t understand.

I don’t want to lose our relationships,
but I don’t want to lose (what is left of) our relationships.

I don’t want to not love you anymore.

Memory #200: I set off at a sprint. I run back the way we came, past trees and shrubs and cacti. If it were not for the handy signposts I am sure I would get lost. The ship remains still.

Memory #201: I realise that I have no idea where I have to run to so I turn around and go back to find the librarian-come-tree. He has completely gone and is now nothing but tree.

Memory #202: I am all ready to run off again until I realise that I do not know where I am running and why, so it would be better to walk rather than running slap-bang into trouble. Whatever trouble that may be. I hope to recognise any trouble as such but really I don’t have a clue.

Memory #203: A solitary leaf falls from high up on the librarian-tree and sits there, reddened and crunchy on the ground. It seems to have no idea what to do next.

Memory #204: We are floating in space. Silently, motionlessly. Eerily we are floating in space.

Memory #205: I reach the main library and there seems to be no one around. I search it thoroughly, even looking down the aisles which house books that no one ever looks at. It is completely lacking in people and most of the books have gone too. The shelves are practically empty – even the memorial shelf to the dead librarian has no books on it.

Memory #206: I notice that there are some books in piles on tables. On closer inspection I find that these are all books written by library users onboard the ship.

Memory #207: I leave the library to explore the rest of the ship but there is no sign of anyone anywhere. There is no one in Cashew’s, there is no one in the spaceshop-

Memory #208: I begin to feel like a character in a childrens pop-up book. “He looked behind the counter in the shop. Lift up the flap to see if you can find anything. No, there’s nobody there.”

Memory #209: -there is no one in the seats, there is no one in the showerrooms, there is no one in the librarians’ quarters.

Memory #210: My spine tingles, my skin shakes and my head feels hollow. I half expect this to be a pleasant surprise, for everyone to jump out and yell, ’Happy Birthday!’ at me – is it my birthday? I wouldn’t know. Somehow it feels like a more sinister stillness than that.

Memory #211: It’s just me in the spaceship floating through space. Strangely, silently, motionlessly floating through space. I have never felt the ship float before in the way it is now, in this strange and unsettling way. But then, everything about space so far has been strange and unsettling and after so long on board that is what I have become used to. I would probably find it strange and unsettling if I didn’t feel strange and unsettled.

Memory #212: It would be nice to be told what was going on or to have some books to consult.

Memory #213: As the only person onboard the ship I feel very inadequate. I wish I had spent some of my previous time on the ship finding out how it worked and where the controls are.

Memory #214: I return to my rounded plastic seat and it is only now that I realise that I can no longer see the space ocean outside. In fact I can see nothing. No fish, no clouds, no nothing, just darkness. It is as though someone has thrown a giant black cloth over the ship.

Memory #215: THE WOOL HAS COME! THE JUMPEROCALYPSE! My brain jumps to irrational conclusions. That explanation would not tie in with the events of the past few hours. It would not explain where everyone has gone and also I imagine that the jumperocalypse would cause more commotion.

Memory #216: I remain in my plastic seat, not knowing quite what to make of it all. My brain is weary from so much speculation but I do not want to fall asleep for fear of waking up to find that the rest of the spaceship has disappeared and that I am left floating in space on a plastic seat.

Memory #217: I get up and stroll around the ship. I have a moment of pride and swagger a little as I consider the fact that I am floating through space in my very own spaceship before once again feeling lonely and confused.

Memory #218: I wander through the deserted spaceship floating in space. Floating in space. Though it doesn’t feel like we are moving. Still, floating in space. Floating in space. Until I am told otherwise.

Memory #219: I am hungry and decide to get some cashews to eat. Although there is no one else around I would feel wrong stealing cashew nuts so I go to a cash machine so that I can leave some money in exchange for the nuts.

Memory #220: When I put my cassette in the machine though I find that there is no information about my finances and instead it has been recorded over with, ’Popped In, Souled Out’ by Wet Wet Wet. The hole in the wall starts playing the tape halfway through and the ship is filled with the sound of, ’Sweet Little Mystery,’ the smooth pop sounds blasting out from every speaker.

Memory #221: I root around in my pockets and find that I have enough money left to buy a small bowl of cashew nuts. I decide to try the richter scale flavour cashew nuts.

Memory #222: This proves to be a bad descision because as soon as I crunch into the first nut my mouth begins to shake and my precarious teeth wobble around. The second cashew nut I eat must be from the higher end of the richter scale as it causes my teeth to rattle around more violently than before. Two of them shake completely loose and I spit them out into the bowl to lie with the remainder of the cashews. These are no good for me and my dodgy teeth.

Memory #223: It strikes me that perhaps I should check if there is anyone left at the other end of the spaceship. Buses appear to have stopped running so it will be a long walk there and back.

Memory #224: Since I have nothing much else to do all alone on my floating spaceship it doesn’t really matter how long it takes. I walk along the familiar tree-lined road and sing loudly to myself. My words bounce back at me from the cavernous walls.

Memory #225: The other end of the spaceship is empty too. I should not be surprised at this but I am. The smell artworks are gone too but the crash site remains the same higgledy-piggledy mess of smashed and twisted metal.

Memory #226: The eternal chuntering of the teds is the only sound at this end of the ship. I think that they would carry on forever, their murmur travelling through space until some alien lifeform finds them and tries to communicate with them presuming it to be the language of some newly discovered lifeform.

Memory #227: There is no reason to hang around here and so I turn around and trudge back down the road. The leaves have started to fall from the trees and I find myself walking through piles of crispy leaves which crunch under my feet. A few miles of leaf-crunching pleasure helps to lift my spirits.

Memory #228: Now that I am feeling more cheerful I begin to wonder if maybe it is a surprise party. Perhaps they were waiting for me to walk to the other end of the ship and when I get back they will all jump out at me and we will have a party in the library with toblerones and whisky and balloons.

Comfortable, stylish, and possessed of that shade of russet that does so much to camouflage dog hairs–as long as you have a brown dog. (Really, if you’re worried about the shedding, go petless. The lack of unconditional love and basic loneliness has the side benefit of making it easier to put up with human friends.) But back to the chair–it’s an excellent piece in which to sit and drink and read. We recommend scotch paired with Bolano’s 2666. Make sure to pick up some coasters to protect the arms.

ello ello.

wow, can’t beleive I forgot to blog anything yesterday. sad times and sorry. But their were good reasons for it realy… I had a lot on. and a lot of other stuff went on too… oh the mystery.

wooo, not got much planned today… going up to my loversssssss house for a bit, so probably a nice cuppa tea and snuggle up on the bed and shizzz like that.

then come home and I’m thinking I should realy, REALY do some Interior Design work… but the last week or so, i’ve been feeling realy, realy uncreative and uninspired. bleh.

ohhhhhh and I should realy clean my room.

I’m loving how this blog isnt so much anything with a point that people realy want to read as it is just a checklist of things for me to do.

righty now im gonna grab a nice shower, which means ima gonna have to get nekked… probably grab a cuppa tea as well and blast a bizzle of paramore… wait. even better. ima gonna watch the live dvd. plan.

i miss the wind. i was so bummed yesterday when it was gone. im thinking and hoping that itll come back. yaya.

laterssss.

Xx

Today we’ve witnessed a guru lay down her show. Oprah Winfrey told the world that she was going to put down her show for good. Is this for the good of mankind? Oprah Winfrey is a big lady in international television, so big in fact that Norwegian television pay lots of money just in rights to “air” the show.

The show, being a “social critic cascade” is in core a talk show, the theme changing from episode to episode. While the show have been in production it’s been visiting subjects varying from interviews with Larry King (described as the moment that revitalized the series by the times.) to shakedowns with unruly kids.

The show has been a beacon for other (critical) Talk-shows around the globe, being the only show in the world of its kind to win that many awards. But the greatest achievement for Oprah would be the sheer running length of her show. It’s been aired for over 22 seasons, and having 3,724 episodes, she have achieved much over the years.

Oprah Winfrey’s work does not only lay in television media. She is really an all-rounder; being an actress, media producer, literary critic and a magazine publisher, she’s done it all. Thus her yearly (official) salary is 383 million dollar a year.

But with success comes great responsibility. Mrs. Oprah Winfrey is a clever woman: Using her influences around her helping Barak Obama becoming president through her show, writing supportive articles in her journals on the net (yes people, she’s got a blog.), and even delivering him 1. million votes in the preliminary stages of the election.

The biggest question is if this is right. When people get that much influence on that many levels, there are bound to be bigger problems. There are a lot people making problems for her, as f.eks Ludacris, 50 cent and Ice Cube where they were discussing the fact that rap music marginalize women. Winfrey were also criticized for not being tough enough to stand up to the rappers.

There are things that are strange around the story of Winfrey, but problems with producers and workers around the staff that have been treated wrongly.

But, for the thoughts of the day;
What happens when someone like Winfrey get this much influence?
What are we going to do the day Winfrey get a seat on the U.S Senate just for being a good talk show host?

And it might be closer than you think. The governor of Illinois are actually working on a solution where Oprah Winfrey is getting a seat at the senate.
Am I the only one having horrific flashes by it?

Sincerely
Ole Henrik Berg

Working Royal typewriter with case. Typewriter body is one of those camouflage greens, keypads are office gray, and the striker keys are clean. Ribbon could use some refreshment.

Typewriters are good, people say, for forcing you to say what you mean and take it seriously–because it’s so hard to take it back and you have to use such physical force to say it. This is bull*&^t.

Or, to the extent it’s true, it’s only so until you get used to banging on the keys. The need to speak the expected lie, the comfort to be gained in staying inside the known narrative, these are things technology has no power over.

Typewriters do provide some decent exercise for the hands.

It was a day that I actually had plans.  I was going to shoot for the light painting series that I was working on.  The apartment was not as cold as it had been earlier in the week but I still did not want to get out of the shower.  I came out of the shower and put on clothes to retain the heat I acquired while in the shower.  Everything else was done that was a part of my morning routine.  I received a surprising phone call from one of the models that I was going to photograph.  She asked me if I knew what was going on.  Being early and not knowing what she was talking about the thought that something happened to the other model went through my head.  She continued on to say that Alfred was on fire.  Of course I had no idea what she was talking about so I asked her to explain what she was talking about.  It came out to be that there was a building that has been around the village of Alfred for a long time.  It housed a couple of businesses and apartments for students.  I went out towards the fire armed with my camera.  The smoke was so clearly seen from such a far distance that it might as well have been coming out of a factory smoke stack. It was a very surreal feeling to walk to the scene.  It was my first time witnessing a fire outside a camping experience.  It was still 8:30 in the morning and many residents of Alfred which are students were just getting up and out.  Steadily they all started to surround the tape holding everyone back from the way of the firefighters.  Of course I could not hold myself back and had to find some holes within their yellow Police Line Do Not Cross tape.  I wanted to get close to the action so I could be more aware of as much as I possibly could.  One minute it is nine thirty and the next minute it was one in the afternoon.  After leaving I went and looked at all the photos to edit them.  While looking at the photos I realized that I was lost in the entirety of the event.  While I was there I became numb.  Interestingly every time that I look at the photos now it seems like one of those things that couldn’t happen close to home.  There is something about seeing photos like the fire event where now I feel like the actual photos have a bigger impact on me than actually having being there.  Now all that is left is a flat space that is being occupied by dirt.

Everyone exited the building.

i can’t believe it, just the next thursday & you’ll be gone. i’m scared to live at that moment, i don’t know what will happen to me, yet im happy for you, for you’ll have a wonderful reunion, and a carefree life there. enjoy without me. and “when the moment you fly comes, i’ll wish on a star that you’d come back and jump into my arms once again…”

In a past life I knew a woman who had a salon. She aspired to be an actress; I aspired to not be a destitute student living in an unheated attic. On chilly evenings we’d gather; students and aspiring actresses, anthropologists, reverend’s sons, miscreants, tortured artists and petty thieves.

We’d discuss politics, art, culture, and the nature of God late into the night and some times the following day. Above the mantle of the bricked-in fireplace she had a grand old mirror which would reflect the candle light and our ghostly visages into the wee hours of the night. The first light of dawn would show the debris of the previous night’s activities, the wine glasses with the last dregs of cheap red wine, the ashtrays, the reference and sketch books scattered about.

The mirror would have nothing to do with this however. In it we were still the creatures we manifested during the night: actresses, anthropologists, ministers, intellectuals and successful in business.

This mirror is almost that good.

45 inches by 69 inches in an ebonized frame with ornamental details. The frame is solid but could use re-blacking. Originally designed to hang either vertically or horizontally it has lost one of the hangers, so now its natural orientation is horizontal.

Guaranteed to show your good side!