Ectal 6: Pulling out of Ricardo and the Dusk is Falling Fast

Cloudscape, Prij, 2008

Like previous holidays I've set off with a number of intentions. Usually this involves actually finishing a book, and always involves trying to turn fragmentary blog drafts into proper articles. Sometimes I get sidetracked with writing a travel-diary, rather than writing vignettes or observational insights.

This year I brought two books: The Lost World, and Neuromancer (yes, its second trip). I never started on either. Although I didn't finish the holdover installments of the GA-Slag, I did finish some non-diary pieces which precede this post. Probably because I've done nothing throughout this holiday - there are more photos of the journey than anything else. Really jettisoned all concerns. I briefly forgot I had a job.

Two weeks later, on the plane again. And for once I was on the scenic side. As we rose into the sky at 8, the Sun halted its descent, and Mt Teide began rising from 270km away. After an extra hour the Sun disappeared and the moon began its long fall, until at midnight only the gloaming was left.

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Ectal 5: Sowing The Seeds of Love

At the start of second year (1999) a new guy, Lee, joined the class from down the coast. The clamour to impress him was embarrassing. I had a good time in 2nd year French with him, but if you want a story that shows how rabid it all was, here's one from Home Ec[onomics].

Ectal 4: Timeless Leaders Stand So Tall

You won't find anyone with anything bad to say about Mandela - he's that great. Though he could have spoken out more against Mugabe, or even against Mbeki. From what I gathered about South Africa from Modern Studies in school, Mbeki pales to Mandela. His AIDS policies have achieved nothing and he is far from politically emotive.

What I'm hearing from Sky News, is that both sides are seeking to reach a peaceful compromise to prevent total collapse in Zimbabwe. To negotiate with Mugabe would require some form of asylum from rights-violation prosecution. He's to far gone to simply step down without receiving immunity. Or are there levels of violation which are acceptable? There is no will for forceful removal. The west is too busy chasing phantoms for its own ends than to be seen to defend justice.

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Ectal 3: Once When I Was Six

I've always been fond of dismantling things to find out how they work. Reassembly didn't always succeed, though construction wasn't a problem (which is a post yet-to-come). Because of my hand at electronics, the Padre let me retune the VCR for Channel 5's launch. Behind the TV, Completely unsupervised. Emboldened by this, I later decided to dismantle an old plug. As a ten year old I was curious as to why there were three pins. Without realising the dangerous path I was on, I inserted the top pin into the socket: Nothing. I then moved onto the two lower pins. One in each hand, oblivious, I inserted the pins into the socket.

I thought the Padre had grabbed me away from what I was doing, but he had left for his night shift. After a minute sitting startled on the floor with my heart racing, aware that no-one else was in the room, I realised the thump on my shoulders was a result of hooking myself into the mains system. I couldn't understand how I hadn't stopped myself from doing something so obviously dangerous - something you think would instantly stand out as a bad idea. Whether my electrocution has anything to do with my off-the-scale skin-conductivity (as confirmed in 3rd year physics) remains a mystery.

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Ectal 2: Clarissa Explains It All

Being the eldest to my 4 years younger brother, I've always wondered what a big sister would be like - mostly because fictional televisual families have at least a sister if not an elder one.

From the forgotten realms of my memory I remembered a girl 4 or 5 years older than me when I was halfway through primary school. She must have been a monitor (that is, a final year pupil who watches over a class during an indoor break because it's raining). For a year or s0 she looked after me until she moved to secondary school. I only saw her twice afterwards.

Early on in her first year she visited the playground during lunch. A seeming tradition since both schools are only a few minutes walk from each other, and I as well as others have done the same. The final time I saw her I was making my way back at the end of lunch, she said hi but I didn't recognise her. What really irritates me is that I can't remember her name, though I'm sure it started with L. Thank you L.

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Ectal 1: Brownsville Turnaround on the Tex-Mex Border

Western Algarve, Prij, 2008

I meant to upload a holding page for the following posts if perchance you thought I was finished with the blog. I'm hoping to use these two weeks to work through my draft backlog - in particular a few short stories and the long overdue finalé of the old site.

Something is very uneventful about this holiday; the yearly flight, the usual destinations - such is travel once Gordo Cooper went higher and farther than any other. Faced with such humdrumity (surely a better pre-existing word for that) it's no wonder I haven't posted since April beyond little observations under my minimal 500 words quotient.

Like a Glittering Prize, I Saw You Up on a Clear Day

Not The Aforementioned Junction, But There Are Roses

There is a single moment, a scene from eight years ago, which is a metaphor for missed opportunity. Whenever I walk through the junction on B St./R St., I flashback to April 2000. Because I lived a fair distance away, I was picked up from school by my parents. On this day I felt particularly isolated when the car drove through the junction, and looking out the window, I saw her walking down the street 90° in the other direction. I was so close, but she didn't know I was there. I wanted to jump out and walk down the street with her. But the car was in motion, and our paths never quite crossed.

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