".........!"

When all else fails, fart, and don't take yourself too seriously. I had just finished typing out the first paragraph of a short story I was going to post on RECITAL called "Ghost Petals from Chechnya", (cool name, i know, nothing like spankin' ye olde ego before loggin off of ye olde bloge) sort of sensual and autobiographical or whatever and the next thing you know, loveable Brian (who sort've looks like a bespectable Winne the Pooh who somehow found a box of marlboro Lights in the bottom of the jar o' honey)turned my computer off for no inexplicable reason! The lab closes in an hour and he shuts down half of the computers early. He turned down the computers flanking both of my sides and then, just like he was pressing a dead-tooth elevator button--click.

"Brian."

"Oh, man, shit Dave...I'm really sorry. I just sort of zoned out."

LESSON IN SYNCHRONCITY

Shit, shower and synchronicity, that's my new mantra. Earlier today I was still reading about boy-to-man psychology and I came across the problem of ego. I'm re-reading a book called KING, WARRIOR, MAGICIAN, LOVER--a jungian sort've glance at the four mature types of masculine archtype. They correlate classic tales to contemporary persona's--for example you can say that Uncle Mike's the magician, Daniela's the princess, arya's the gypsy, and David's the youngin' with a bad haircut who needs to start making a more consious effort to save his fledgling short stories to disk before his red-eyed co-workers inadvertantly cut the power again.

Anyway, I was reading a chapter detailing the classic 'Trixter' charchter. This chapter correlates the trixter to the medieval jester. the court jesters job was to jounce on top of the Kings ego. At royal banquets the KING would get showered with courtly accolades and his ego would augment and the next thing you know, the jester would jump on the table, avail his 'arse' and fart.

Deflation of the ego. Detachment. It actually didn't bother me that I lost this story (it was due for a class in twelve-minutes or anything)..but I think brian serves as a contemporary stale-breath jester when he bent over my computer and farted the screen into darkness. I was seminally exited that I finally came up with a 'smooth' title and the next thing...

Nothing like a lil' detachment. Daniela, there's how many miles between our modems?

Ahhhh...nothing beats a lil' syncronicity........