XPost: alt.culture.usenet, alt.cyberpunk, alt.dreams.castaneda   
   XPost: alt.drugs.psychedelics, alt.journalism.gonzo, alt.memetics   
   XPost: alt.psychoactives, alt.religion.kibology, alt.society.neutopia   
   From: __schwann__@_webtrance.co.za   
      
   Today I left Spain and arrived in Edinburgh for the festival and the   
   sunshine stopped. It had gone on for quite a considerable time though,   
   some 10 weeks, during which I've been drawn through my own dream -   
   slowly, helpless on the flow of ideas I'd had, now lost in the mists of   
   time. Here's the short version.   
      
   June: 6-17 onboard Maersk Constantia   
   June  18-28 Tenerife   
   June  29th - August 18th - Malaga - Marbella - Nerja - Granada - Ibiza -   
   Gibraltar + some other places better forgotten - like Benidorm   
      
   August 18th - Scotland - Edinburgh   
      
   Time. The present -   
      
   After my family went home, in stages, sometime in July, I resided at the   
   Villa with Joey and we waited for Dennis's arrival. I'd set this up by   
   phone and email with Dennis, but it wasn't till I got to Spain that he   
   confirmed that he'd be making it over. Hell, I've written ten thousand   
   words on our roadtrip, which covered much voyaging. The full story will   
   be told one day, but not here, not now. Let me just thrill you with the   
   possibilities out there....here's a short piece of our magical mystery   
   tour...   
      
      
   Title: Adapted from 'Cognition on the Costa Del Sol' for usenet   
      
   It isn't that I don't want to go out again; it's just that last night   
   would be hard to beat. Also, 'beat' is exactly the word we're feeling so   
   it doesn't take Dennis much to convince me that 'tomorrow' is going to   
   be hard enough to get through, even if Joey stops snoring long enough   
   for me to fall asleep. On the up-side, Dennis's argument convinces Joey   
   to move his mattress into the lounge so that I'll get some sleep, and   
   thus be able to drive the 600 clicks back to Las Farolas tomorrow   
   without unduly endangering anyone's life. Because it's already 2.00 AM,   
   'tomorrow' is just a word used to describe what's already happening. I   
   rejoice at having the room to myself and fall asleep thinking deep   
   orange, yellow and green thoughts.   
      
   I've slept well enough. It's now officially Saturday, and it's almost   
   time to return from forever - or return to forever? Whatever. We have   
   tickets booked for the return ferry and we're packed and ready with no   
   mistakes well before the 2.30 PM deadline. Lining up to say our   
   goodbyes, we hug Richard and the Goddesses goodbye, wishing we could've   
   stayed on a few nights longer. But it isn't like that because Joey has a   
   plane to catch at 9.00 AM Sunday morning and Dennis has to return to   
   Minnesota three days later. The Boys from Brazil are on a tight   
   schedule, even though there's 4 hours of enforced chilling on the ferry   
   to come. Mounting the ramp isn't without a sense of loss. This is a   
   place you could lose your car, your wife, your life; a nice fantasy, if   
   it wasn't tinged with child sacrifice, character dissolution and maybe   
   sudden death. Yes, the island of Tanit remains an enigmatic place,   
   somewhere I'll try to return to, if life works out that way. After the   
   usual dungeon nightmare inside the bowels of the ferry, during which I   
   get parted with Dennis and Joey, I find myself a chair upstairs in the   
   shade and start preparing myself for the mainland to appear in four   
   hours time, knowing that, as soon as it does, I'll be back on the   
   speedway.   
      
   The ferry grinds slowly past the outer breakwater. The seas are higher   
   than when we'd arrived but this isn't any weather because I'm from the   
   Cape of Storms so I don't scare so easily. I wonder how Joey and Dennis   
   are doing but I'm not inclined to traipse all over the boat to see where   
   they've crashed. Twenty minutes outside of the harbour, a giant piece of   
   separated coastline appears to starboard. It's like Gibraltar, cliffs   
   falling into the sea, a short distance off the coast of Ibiza. I wonder   
   what purpose it served the predecessors, and other ambient stuff.   
   There's no rush, so I film us cruising by the island monolith even   
   though I have no practical use for the footage because chronicling   
   things doesn't need reason. It's a tech-fix, inducing enhanced memory   
   slices of fractal reality which bite back at you when least you expect   
   it. Will we always be at the edge of what's acceptable to print created,   
   media violated and consumer dominated humanity, or is there a lesson   
   somewhere that can be passed on memetically to the next continuum. If   
   so, then what's the lesson? At this time, I fall into a shallow trance,   
   peripherally aware that Dennis is reading a book with his eyes closed on   
   the couch behind me.   
      
   Schwann Cybershaman   
   Las Farolas   
   Malaga   
   Costa Del Sol   
   Spain   
   9th  August 2004   
      
   © All Media. 9th August 2004. Mythmaking and Legend by Schwann   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)