Birthday

Happy birthday, Garkuyan!

Today is your Rez day. Two years old...Wow... You've grown quite well since birth. From a shy person that kept mostly to herself, you are now almost sociable *giggles*. Your style has changed a bit, sure enough. You still care about your old friends, and some new people share your life also. Situations have evolved. Life is good.

Remember your coming in the world? What had started as a simple search for software on the Net resulted in my reading an article in one of the Webzine about this Second World. The article was quite informative and dealt also about the casino issue, now banned, with its legal implications.

I downloaded the game, and when you unlogged, daybreak was beginning to look like morning. You pouted. I said "Heck... I need coffee! and have to go to work...*arghhh*".

Remember the first "date", where you received a new "skin" as a gift. Now talk about staying humble here...

And all about the lands rented, owned, and houses you got or bought, rezzed, unrezzed, got built, destructed, re-rezzed etc... If not a shaker, you are at least a mover.

You have been through lots, and most of it good, some very good. You have met great people which I will not list because some people -like yourself- have a problem with lists because inevitably they must end somewhere and you would hate leaving good people out. But they know who they are and what they mean to me and what I mean to them.

What holds the future for you? You have no idea, and frankly you don't care much. Each breath is a new one and you cherish them all.


Take care, have fun, be nice to people, stay real.

*Kisses and hugs*.

Your typist.

Spring

Spring time at Downport...

Chollie was spinning his tunes that night, if I remember well. Only a few patrons had arrived at Firefly's bar, the night being young and all.

While Immy was on stage showing her charms to the beat of Chollie's rockin' music, a few clients unknown to us "regulars" were dropping by, as it's the case on many occasions at Firefly's.

I don't remember the name, but I remember the body. A foxy ladie, cute as a button, and curved like a 67' mustang. She came in, walked around the bar, and came back to the door. Didn't say a word. She looked at Mr. Barnes and then said in a loud voice for such a small avie:

"So ok, let's split from this place."

Mr. Barnes straightened up peering calmly at Foxy. He let go of the rag he was using on the counter top of the bar, and said: "We?"

She stood there, her paws settling firmly on her waist and reiterated her demand: "Yes, you and me. Let's get out of here."

Mr. Barnes: " Well, Ma'am, I'm working now. I can't just leave like the bar."

Silence hit the room.

Mr. Barnes looked at Foxy and pointed slowly to his tag.

Foxy's eyes followed Mr. Barnes's finger.

"Besides, Ma'am, I already have two women, Lauralai and Lorie. I ain't got much time to court someone else even as nice as you."

On that note, she turned her heels and left the Firefly's bar.

At which point, Chollie shaking his head muttered: " Gotta tell you Nack, you must be attractive like hell. Must be a record. In 2 minutes flat, she was ready to take you on and bring you to the altar."

Mr. Barnes looked up, grinned and returned to his rag to his spotless counter top.

AuroraBlue

Life in Blackburne isn't always a bowl of cherries. Reavers and bots are always lurking about. People come and go noseing around our homes. My alarm is always on, day or night. Even with Lauralai's work on the sewers, most of the time the air is unbreathable; the stench from radioactive debris whose molecules are dissolving with a fight can be overbearing.

And then...AuroraBlue.

I saw her two nights ago. A lovely child on our small moon. She came to the bar to meet Lauralai and drink gecko milk, I think. (Not my type of poison as one knows.) She made me think of St-Exupery...so intensely. While Sabrina's music blared like mad, I managed to catch small talk about AuroraBlue being Lilybell's child, who it seems passed away during Aurora's coming in our world. Sad. Life can be sad.

But AuroraBlue is charming. Yet, I fret for her. Our moon and our neighors are tough to live by. Food is scarces. Water a rarerity. Meds are as needed as they are unavailable. People can be get pretty nasty in a blink of an eye.

I touch wood and hope the best for her. Wished LilyBell was still with us, with AuroraBlue.

**************

"After that, the little prince climbed a high mountain. The only mountains he had ever known were the three volcanoes, which came up to his knees. And he used the extinct volcano as a footstool. "From a mountain as high as this one," he said to himself, "I shall be able to see the whole planet at one glance, and all the people . . ."

But he saw nothing, save peaks of rock that were sharpened like needles.

"Good morning," he said courteously.

"Good morning--Good morning--Good morning," answered the echo.

"Who are you?" said the little prince.

"Who are you--Who are you--Who are you?" answered the echo.

"Be my friends. I am all alone," he said.

"I am all alone--all alone--all alone," answered the echo."



The Little Prince
Antoine de St-Exupéry
Chapter 19.

Touch

In this world and in the other worlds too, we strive to taste the sweet waters of Love, Respect or both. The lives of others intertwine with ours or clashes, runs parallel to our own little universe glimpsing quickly, in an endless merry-go-round or in anarchic patterns. Some moments mirror the deserts of our souls where the sands stifles the better part of our natural enthusiasm. Some moments are gushing volcanoes of passion where emotional turmoil borders on possessiveness. Many times, we are standing on plateaus, alone or not, looking at the sky and feeling neutral to the point of stillness.

But beyond these strong emotional pulls lies the need to link. Wanting the contact, needing the bond, not necessary in a planned and structured way as the ones determined by family ties or friendly bindings or romantic wants. Just to let one soul's touch us and to touch one's soul, for a brief moment maybe, but whose imprints leaves eternal even if elusive marks.

May your links and mine be cherished as they are, not as what they should be or could have been. May they multiply and act as a calming balm especially when confronted by the difficult stretches in our lives.

Origins

As I move from place to place, from moon to moon, to the main land and then back to the outer rims again, like the female wanderer that I am, my little sterling bracelet follows. On it, scratched by what appears by a pocket knife are the words "Kas". The little bracelet is an integral part of my little luggage.

Origins are important. People need to know the beginnings since they cannot know the end.

I know this for a fact. If I had cashed in lindens for each person, replicant, dragon who ever asked me: "Where do you come from?" I would be a millionaire by now. I would own my boat, my castle, my underground antinuclear compound and my garden of magical herbs.

I would probably have also had the funds to ask scientists to search for the potion which could bring my memories back. I have so few of them and the ones that comes to the surface do in a haphazardly way, like small marbles rolling all over the place, no pattern, no logic, no structure.

Kas. It's origins. But this is all I know. Wish I could find out more.

Owning one's past is the present understood. At least, some.

Night

"Now the crickets are singing
The vesper bells ringing
The cat's curled asleep in his chair
I'll go down to Bill's Bar
I can make it that far
And I'll see if my friends are still there
Yes, and here's to the few
Who forgive what you do
And the fewer who don't even care
And the night comes on
It's very calm
I want to cross over, I want to go home
But she says, Go back, go back to the World."


Leonard Cohen
"Night comes on"

Spell

I have a very nice tattoo called "Longing". At one point, I wore it all the time, as a reminder of Life's never ending cycle of wanting closeness, truth, affection, friendship, empathy.

I haven't worn it in a long time. Didn't need the reminder, I guess. But tonight, blackness falls upon me as I walk the streets of Blackburne, where only Jane silently warms her hands on the fire bin, and Meyers sits on his beach contemplating the sea. It's on me, burning my flesh, contrasting with the coldness of the air.

("Having a pre-teen moment again, Gark? What the heck are you longing for this time?" asks my typist who is wearing her Don't-you-start-that-on-me-cutie! face glued on.)

I have been pretty much away from Blackburne these days and wondering if I should be moving on. Not that being away as anything to do with my life here, but somehow I feel lost tonight as I walk around, wondering if somehow my presence here is making life a bit less serene for many of the people I love a lot and cherish who come here to love and be loved, laugh, dance, talk, drink, cheer and be merry.

In fact, I feel like the front page of the Wall Street Journal: Mucho Bad News All The Time.

Not that I rank in the top 5 of the most popular people on this moon, and I don't particular try to achieve stardom status, so some people couldn't probably care less if I go to the Wastes and eat all that salty stew until I blow up and die of radioactive poisonning, and dissolve in the bottom of a gulch somewhere.

("Aww, poor baby...". My nice typist hands me a kleenex, takes it back, blows her nose, gives it back to me and says with a smile: "Now, you have something to whine about, hun.")

But still. I feel like I'm a never-ending visit to the dentist. And it starting to dawn on me that maybe I have some sort of sickness, or bad karma coming back.

Maybe my strength is losing me.

Maybe I am doomed. Maybe some spirit cast a spell, a real bad one.

*sigh*.

My typist agrees: *sigh*.