Archive - Feb 18, 2008

1983 Journal: Feb 1-4

February 1, 1983: Another day with nothing to say. NY Times picture of Reagan at National Conference of Religious Broadcasters praying. “The man with his eyes open is the Secret Service agent”. The hand reaches, pauses, reaches, pauses, but does not grasp the subway pole. I did not read anything except the Times, and hence, again, my writing seems to suffer.

February 2, 1983: Ab’s birthday, ground hog didn’t see his shadow. Late night drinking with Steve. Tomorrow bleed, presentation, opera. Read a little wrote a little. Good thinking at prayer group. Good night. Thirty words a night and I call this writing?

February 3, 1983: It was the beginning of your typical New York romance. A weeknight opera, after a hectic day. Great discussion. Literature, scotch, subways. I reached the two gallon mark today. Violets, wither, get poisoned. Valentines day, like back in grammar school. Send lots of cards. Concern about keeping writing private.

February 4, 1983: Tired. These late nights are taking a toll on me. Climbing into bed to read and listen to music. Tom Hoeft goodbye lunch today. Lots of Sangria. The kind you lose track of how much you’ve had after your first couple sips. Image of yesterday: Manikin on bicycle.

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Dream

Last night I drifted in and out of a strange dream. I woke up this morning half-groggy in a dream like state. As the grogginess lifts details of the dream evaporate. Yet the key aspects remain.

Somehow, I had ended up on a small island somewhere near the North Pole. I had been canoeing down near England. My plan had been to head back to the U.S., but instead of heading west, I got turned around and headed north. (It was a dream, so the idea of canoeing from England to either the North Pole or the United States in an afternoon didn’t seem strange at all).

As we explored the small fishing communities on these islands, we were welcomed in. I explained the wrong turn, but how interested I was in visiting the communities. We were welcomed in and ate with the locals at long plain tables. We found places to stay and set up our plans for further exploration.

I will note that the weather was quite temperate. I don’t know how much this was because it was summertime, or how much it was because of global warming. I did recently listen to a radio report about the effect of global warming on small communities in Alaska, so that may have fed into the dream. In addition, the upcoming trip to the AGPA annual meeting in Washington may have influenced my dream. What will the conference be like? Will it lead to some sort of turn that may change the direction of my life? Also, my discussions with many different people in Second Life, where going from England to the United States or the North Pole is a simple teleport; even quicker than an afternoon canoeing. Like my expectations of the AGPA annual meeting, Second Life has provided a rich set of experiences that may also lead to unexpected further explorations.

Other reactions?

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GimpGirl in Second Life



GimpGirl in Second Life, originally uploaded by Aldon.

GimpGirl, a group for women with disabilities kicks off its presence in SL. I am a long time friend of one of the members and was glad to see them establish a presence in Second Life. They've been around for ten years on sites like LiveJournal, Facebook, and MySpace. It will be interesting to see how they tie together the activities across platforms.

More information can be found at www.gimpgirl.com.

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