= 2006-01-07 =
A plane landed at an airport. Two people unloaded from the back ramp (like that of a Hercules transport) with a body, which they gave a "traditional burial", which consisted of placing it in a large layer of styrofoam, wrapping the styrofoam into a rectangular prism and then inserting the styrofoam stick into a cardboard container. The result was a spear-like contraption. I knew that this was then, in the tradition of the people to whom the deceased belonged to, supposed to have been thrown around like a javelin.
Next scene, I find myself in Israel looking at my new temporary residence in the local kibbutz. In my baggage, I have the spear previously mentioned. I enter the little cottage that we will stay at (similar to Ein Gev), and find it to my liking. I enter my backyard and find that the cottage is situated directly under the walls of Massada. Then I unpack my baggage, and get to the spear. I recall that it was meant to be thrown around, in the ancient custom, so I do, first in the backyard, then in the house. It doesn't fly very well, but I eventually get the hang of it, and throw it very accurately into the hinge between a door and the wall, which makes the spear crack apart along the middle.
The mess was disastrous. Hunks of very brown human entrails were all over the floor, as well as pieces of cardboard and styrafoam. I had to clean the mess up somehow, so I grabbed it all into one pile with my hands, and threw it over the fence to my neighbour's cottage. What a relief. But in about 30 seconds, I received an angry letter from them, telling me in legalese to clean up my shit or get sued.
Oh, and it later turned out that the guys who were 'mummifying' the body into a spear were doing it in the traditional Jewish Nomad fasion. And the deceased was the last of his tribe. When I found out that I had desecrated his body, I felt profoundly sad, but at the same time found consolate in the fact that I had thrown the spear around in the way of his ancestors.
= 2005-08-24 =
Playing a gig with my co-workers. We're performing for an audience of whiny women. The setting: rolling hills, a grassy meadow. Our performance was horrible. First audience was politely clapping, as at a children's talent show. Their true feelings became apparent when we started playing some SOAD-like music. The women audience was so upset that they pulled out dirty pots and pans and gave them (back?) to us.
= 2005-08-13 =
Standing on a hillside, with a gun. Looking around, noting animals in the vicinity. Presumably hunting. Suddenly see a fox very close by. Next, begin thinking whether I can take it on. Imagine all scenarios. Then realize that if the fox is rabid, the axe in my hand will consistently miss the fox and hit me instead. But we fight anyway and I slowly cut off my arms and legs.
Sitting in the canadian house of commons, when all of a sudden all of the MPs start coming in. With them is my room-mate and the governor general. MPs take seats. Next a weird tirade of formalities where servants offer alcoholic drinks to the MPs and the MPs refuse. Then rolecall, except instead of saying their name, MPs say what they want delivered from anywhere in Canada. My roommate tells me that I should out of house because its illegal for non-mps to be there. So when his name is called, he says that he wants to ship me to Vancouver.
3. Riding the Richmond 410 bus, there's some geeky kid making witty comments to someone else. Then that someone leaves. And I ask the witty kid if he goes to IB. He says yeah, and I give him my encouragement and share my experiences. Then I ask if Vicente is still IB coordinator, and he says he got fired in 1998.