Wednesday, 18 July 2012

Coffee with an

First photo from

I got a mention here and not here, i was thinking when i was reading of how the 'Coffee with a stranger' story and how the conversation started and it's funny [quickly checking what Jess wrote again] to see that people listen to the stuff i say, maybe i say too much and none of it ends up going in?

Isn't it funny the people you meet, just like Jess wrote, when you are somewhere and someone tells you something, you overhear something, a story, you get switched on to an idea casually and it becomes a major driving force in a thought process. It's happened to all of us, whether you want to admit it of not, maybe you cant remember?

To give you a few examples, i remember meeting meeting:

An old very well educated elder man in a dirt town in Malaysia, i played checkers and had tea with him for hours, he told me he read the Encyclopedia Britannica, all of it and told me facts from it, like...

According to Socrates, the difference between advanced people and primitive people was their environment, they live in:
  • Hot climate, writing originated in Iraq 
  • Cold climate, Nokia and many technology companies from Finland  

Dont quote me on it, but...introducing Socrates

Harsh climates can kill you quick, so you have to become efficient with resources and time, oh Socrates said other stuff too, but that happened in the last place i expected it to happen (i also remember trying to walk in thongs/sandle's in that town, but it was a failed attempt, not until years later would i master that fete)

Thong dreams?

In the Amazon basin it would seem, a guy goes out to catch fish and collect food, no problem, he did it yesterday and he will do it tomorrow, the have been able to to that since the dawn of time, you dont need the Australian dream, it's the Amazon, there's never anything on TV, outside the window mother nature is working flat out and not getting paid overtime either

Moody in the mornings?

 An old French guy at the Kerela Airport (Southern India) told me:
Dont trust people that are in a bad mood in the morning, when you wake up you should be full of life to start off the day
I have to agree, i met a retired boxer on the Aran Islands that used to wake up jump out bed in the morning, say 2 'Hail Mary' prayers and do some shadow boxing, i plan on doing the same, minus the religious devoutness, minus the super sonic explosions when my fists colliding with air as the galaxy expanding even further into the void.

 Shadow play?

I met some New Zealander's many years ago in my favorite live music bar in Cork and one of them told me
'What makes you who you are is not what you do for your job, but what you do outside your job'
Too true, my job does not define me, this is probably why i am volunteering on an Organic farm and enjoying that immensely?


How might i remember the estranger in me, or Jess?

Well, i met a Canadian, Jess, who seemed to have a bit of a sense of humor. She told me about her nightmare night before, and it wasn't before Christmas either!

We were all partying in a room downstairs, and she was upstairs with not one to talk to in the common room.

The group i was with were a band of odd sorts, the only commonality would have been the alcohol content of out blood streams, not fitting into the 'Common' group upstairs, a mostly 'Motley Crew', not yet 8pm and we registered a noise complaint, so we were banished to one of the basement dorms, better known as staff quarters, the party was getting legs and was off at a bit of a gallop.

My crew, (that's me on the right!)

While upstairs some French backpackers that wanted to rip her off in their quest to check out early and get their deposit from Jess and after this had the pleasure to hear some French love making, entwining a regular auditory sense to be savored, maybe a 'Midnight in Byron Bay'?  

Has Woody Allen copyrighted his 'Midnight in...' idea? I can tell you about my 'Midnight in Melbourne' experiences.

After we start rapping, Jess says 
'Dude, where were you last night?' 
Truth be told, this is where i was...

Everywhere, except the side of this Canadian girl, it would have been funnier if i said i was the guy (with a poor French accent in to top bunk last night transcending the world, as if in the rhythm of the universe, each thrust a little near the eternal, unattainable, filling the gaping void vacuum, momentarily exposed in your cosmical soul!)

But, no.

Part of Jess's story happened in the past, which led on to the present, because it is a gift, if you can pick the little bits of gold, and stick them in a little basket, the basket being a notebook, ingredients for your perspective and maybe your soul?

Different ingredients and balm, the hell fired eggs becomes a 'Crepe', but not yesterdays eggs, maybe tomorrows eggs, for a little hint of 'Oh, la, la'? and before you know it your strolling down the Champs Elysees and your seen parroting waving your Gucci bag...
'Où est la Tour Eiffel'

And we do, as you can see.  

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