and so it all began with the personal diary in a jornment and england was

VIII

The subject “negativity” has emerged in a new light; not, obviously, a very good light either. Since the Egyptian thing seems so weirdly odd, and as the recent insights into that via Emotional Intelligence, well, it just seems that I’m being pointed toward something. That the subject is Negativity is as pissy as I can ever recall. The positivity subject seems as obviously clear; having been led into some really great events, I am not in complaint mode. However, the ongoing battle with all of that seems to me to be winning my attention; It’s as if the subtleties are being pointed out. The woman who deprived her daughter of a boyfriend, controlled her way to death. Writing with the subtext out, seems to me to be the point. Also, lots of ideas about writing essays. Its now August. I am trying to stay positive with this shift, having come through the phone calls again with D I am amazed that I still stand for it. But as everybody seems to do it, its like an infectious disease. Really quite extraordinary. Hius reaction to my getting a wall unit was absoultutely incredible. He actually said, “Problem is you lose wall space.” I wouldn’t mind if he meant from a sub atomical physicists point of view, but I know he didn’t. And his reaction to getting the internet, that was extraordinarily negative. Did you hear what he said? All I hoped to find looks like it isn’t there anymore. Unbelievable. That said, there are other subtleties. I do feel a growing urgency to be here at the laptop, and to take it out somewhere as well. Having said that, I also feel that I may still be pushing something a bit far. I have been trying to recover from tiredness, but even that is not the actual explanation. I’ve love dthe shift with the room; it really feels like I’ve pulled something n back around; but I am worried. Tomorrow feels like its hand in the sense of today was another day I’ve just managed to squeak through. Not that the vacuum’s done. Am I a woman writing? Boredom? Bad attitude. It’s funny. This is funny. Its supposed to be fun. The way that the interim weeks between writing have emerged is really odd. The trip with Adi. Ella on the scene. The days at the Royual. The ley line energy and most recently the shift into Sirius and the Dog’s howling this morning oh and now the story about the wolves todfay all seem to link and point me to the verification of the higher level of language that I have been receiving. I suppose at some level I am still resisting that. At that level it happens, its so real; theres also a real willingness on my part to go with it. Some sort of hope that was blind feels like its transforming intno some sort of actual “this is how it is”. Can’t help but feel that I am being pulled through a gate and that I will be very grateful down the line for continuing to insist I listen, and if that philosophy congeals into an actually real, living breathing oprganic VIEW that I can honestly say I own, well then I’ll be even more grateful. It feels like it could cohere. It feels like I have crossed an ince of a step over into something there. I feel that it is possible that it may all very well be perfectly true. So much of it has cohered in the past against massive resistance on my part. Sao much of it too has been shown as quite extraordinary at many levels. I am really feeling quite truthfully believable; and I am feeling, “well, given what happened this time last year in the wake of the Sirius cycle, given what has happened since Stoke, given the subtlety of the direction that emerged in the wake of the Wesak festival…. How cool was that day the judge let all of the defendents off?.... to all of the other scenes I HAVE WITNESSED (BUT NOT WRITTEN ABOUT), makes me wonder if in this narrative it is time to just let it be and continue as it is as at the very least it may show me something later. See. WEIRDE. Now that I am doing this and it is about 17.23pm I suddenly feel that openness of being on the right trasck, and this is all involving the difference between handwriting, the evolution of form the here that has emerged and the fact that at some level this feels like handwriting used to feel. At that moment I recal the galactic center is very nearly overhead; another day has begun. A wealth of insights into wolves; some strange behaviour: I have taken down the Buddha flags. And I have uprooted those pepp[ar plants; and I am very nearly about to clear that Buddha from the landing and return him to James and I am and have been more and more that I have to bring what I know to be true to the table and keep recovering from these absolutely ridiculously negative conversations. I know I handled it better yesterday. The party went alright because I shut my mouth; but when I didn’t shut my mouth, when I could no longer stand being scrutinized, when I could hear not one more comment coming my way, Oh doesn’t he look like an English writer, turn of the century; doesn’t he look like… why do you have a beard, ah Hemmmingway…. Do you know why you have..” People who think they have a right to comment make me vomit. I really did feel sick to death of their butt holing up to life. That seems to be out of my system, the sun’s coming out and its five thirty and OH HOW I wish I could be shown how to use these half hour periods of time more productuively. How I could be shown; what if its not real and I’ve been hallucinating.