November 7, 2002
Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada

10:54pm Tom and Christina just left. Christina and I hug a longtime, heart to heart. Best friends. So much mutual respect. Kirk kept saying, "I can't believe you are leaving man," and Tom told me how he would miss me because I am source for adventure, good times, trips to the ski hill and ice climbing. I'd go nuts here if I didn't have Tom to adventure with. Friends are important.

Yesterday, at 6pm, I met Christina at the university and chilled in the sound booth as she hosted her radio show on the campus and community station. It's a cool place to spend time. There is massive collection of tunes I've not heard, and CD's from local folks that you might not find anywhere else. "Madison Shadwell" on a jewel case interested me. Back in high school I think he dated my friend Cara Cole. I wasn't in the headspace for his music.

Sheikh, a business student from Bangladesh was on the beat wearing his white jacket with red letters spelling STUDENT POLICE. The station draws people like a magnet. Its a curious scene. The mike with it's power to influence the minds of those tuned in, the fun folks who host shows, the band stickers on the door and autographed posters everywhere; it's a place to be. I asked Sheikh how things are different here from home. Bangladesh is densely packed with people, he said, around 15 million. Saint John has a hundred thousand. "People are more respectful of each other at home," he answered, stating that youth in his country are much more respectful toward their parents than in North America. "We are very close," he explained. "We share everything; our joy and our sorrow."

When the show was finished at 7pm, we zipped to Samuel de Chaplain school to attend a planning meeting for the 400 anniversary celebration for Four Latour, then I took Christina home, and I head a dinner date with Leanne and a couple of her friends. We sat in her living room eating spiral pasta with tomato sauce and doing "blind" charcoal portrait sketches; drawing without looking at the page. The person drawing is starring at you studying every detail, and you can see the intensity in their eyes like windows exposing grinding gears. I fell asleep on the couch and woke at midnight to find Kenny and Leanne dancing to a funky groove with little plastic paddles from a rubber raft found in the trash.

Fluffy snow flakes pilled up outside covering everything in half a foot of magical goodness. I backed the spaceship up the one way street to the other end of the block and went into O'leary’s Open Mike, the regular weekly community gathering spot. Its church with reverend Brent Mason leading the celebration service. People spill their soul on that stage. I always go cuz it's often the only time I see those people and I wanted to gather friends for a last supper.

Driving Leim and Kirk home was a blast. The streets where not plowed. I'm glad the Dragonfly has four wheel drive. The snow was now a foot deep and several times we spun around out of control. It was fun.

from 3am to 5am I laid in bed unable to sleep; too much on my mind; too excited and stressed. So much to do before I leave. I had one notable dream in that restless time in bed. I dreamt I was in the mudroom talking to a friend who was hurting. I looked into his eyes and gave him good vibes, then I started to rise. I was weightless. My head hit the ceiling. It was a feeling of great enlightenment, of awe, like I was leaving my body and the realities of gravity, age and all forms of pain, as if my spirit was soaring. It felt so real. I've experienced the feeling in dreams before and it's always so disappointing to wake up back in bed.

Leanne had made an interesting point earlier in the night after a friend had said what a shame it is that we "waste" a third of our life sleeping. Leanne said that our time in dreamscape is important and useful as well, and possibly as valuable as our waking hours, suggesting we can control our thoughts and use that time to seek answers and visions deep within.

I couldn't take it any longer, so I went to the computer and wrote down my goals for the FAR OUT school, who it will service and where the funding will come from over the next two years. I had to do it in preparation for tonight's meeting. I then spent the next five hours renovating my website, which I'm happy to have accomplished.

I slept on and off between phone calls and customers until 4:30pm, when I got a shower, picked up Kirk and attended the waterfront development meeting. Good stuff is happening here. There are people who are thinking ahead and getting input from the community. The city has been too industrially based, not allowing the citizens easy access to the harbor and the river that splits our city and the green belt around it. This city has some great people.

We picked up Christina on the way back. She washed the dishes while Kirk and I shoveled the driveway. Wes Jagoe showed up and the four of us had a nice quiet candle light dinner with good conversation. Chris, Chuck and Tom showed up a short time later, and with the fireplace crackling we entertained ourselves with chit-chat and playing music with guitars, keyboard and singing. Wes is a joker, always on, and a amazing musician. He was just in England touring around leading a Neil Young cover band. I'm trading him my yellow fireman's Jacket in exchange for ten rolls of slide film. He'll bulk load them each with room for 45 pics. I got the jacket at the Army Surplus for $30 and the film is worth $15 each.

So now it is 1am and I gotta crash. Hope I can turn off this neurotic head of mine, or even better... use it to get more of that floating enlightened feeling I enjoy so much.