STORIES &
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wednesday, november 26, 2003 // the art of divining
SOME PEOPLE STUDY TEA LEAVES OR ENTRAILS to discern the truth and read the future; some others study the stars. I tend to think that the Universe is really a giant hologram, and that every part of it contains the picture of the whole. In other words, looking at the layout of the tea leaves at the bottom of the cup will give you an image of the entire Universe, if you know how to look, if you are open to it. Conversely, looking at the Universe through a giant telescope will give you an image of the tea leaves sitting at the bottom of the cup. That is the nature of the 4th Dimension -- every point is the centre of the Universe -- the Centre of the Universe is within us all. We are all each and every one of us the Mind of God, which is the Spirit of the 4th Dimension.

That said, can you use literary reviews to make predictions about the future of the world and the future of the individual? I have discovered this strange energy flow recently in which everytime I buy a new work of fiction or are given one, the theme of the book is the same -- it is about sailing at sea and sinking and being forced to survive in a strange new world. It is the theme of the current book I am reading, Jonathan Swift's Gulliver's Travels. It is the theme of the next book I intend to read, Umberto Eco's The Island of the Day Before. As you read this new type of literary review, shall we call it the Divine Review, in that it intends to divine the true shape of the Universe -- as you read this review, together we will explore the nature of being lost at sea, finding a strange new world, and struggling to survive there.

thursday, november 14, 2003 /// jonathan swift's gulliver travels
THE STRANGE SEA NOVEL CYCLE CONTINUES. As I pointed out early on this weblog, I seem to be suffering a strange literary affliction at the moment which goes like this: whenever someone gives me a book as a Christmas or birthday present, or whenever I find a cool looking book at a friend's house and decide to borrow it, or whatever -- whenever I start reading the said book I find it is about sailing, getting shipwrecked, and being forced to survive on a desert island. I tell no lie -- it is kind of freaky. Is it a sign of my own impending shipwrecked doom, or a metaphor about my life. Whatever -- there are cycles at work in the Universe, and they stretch far beyond the confines of "chance", "dumb luck"...

Anyway, this morning I picked up a book in my room which I had borrowed from my boss at the end of 2002, and decided it would be good to read it. The book in question is Jonathan Swift's "Gulliver's Travels", the classic children's story/political satire from the 17th Century. Within one page of starting this book the hairs on the back of my neck started to go up. The writer describes his voyage to the South Seas: "On the fifth of November, which was the beginning of summer in those parts, the weather being very hazy, the seaman spied a rock, within half a cable's length from the ship; but the wind was so strong, that we were driven directly upon it, and immediately split." I thought to myself: Here we go again?" Another book about ocean currents and shipwrecks. What the hell is going on here?

life of pi // strange loop
IF THERE COULD BE SAID TO BE A THEME FOR MY READING THIS YEAR, I would have to dub it the "year of the transoceanic voyage". It was never planned that way, I never sat down and deliberately decided to read a whole bunch of books about sailing, ocean currents, pirates and the like. In a wierd, synergistic, building upon each other organic kind of way, it just happened. All of the books I read this year connected to each other in some kind of way, usually a marine kind of way. Either people sent me books about oceans and sailing, or I found a book lying on a shelf in my house or the homes of my friends and I picked it up and eventually found a maritime theme within, or whatever... this was the Year of the TransAtlantic Voyage, and I was hauled along in its wake.

The journey began when I found a copy of Neal Stephenson's sci fi classic SNOW CRASH in the common room of my Japanese share house. Share house meaning that you can share common things like books, so I decided to start reading it. I had just finished Stephenson's tome CRYPTONOMICAN and I was keen to read SNOW CRASH. In fact, I had wanted to read it for a long time, and couldn't believe it when I found it lying on the bookshelf of my share house --- like some kind of Gift from the Gods. It proved as edgy and mindblowing and bodyshaking as I had imagined, although it kind of lost it at the end -- nonetheless, I enjoyed some particularly inspiring moments. One part of the book centred on the mysterious Raft --

sumatra_by_steam -- october 2000 /// the hotman chronicles
...Singapore, which was kind of boring but refreshing in its vibrant Asianosity - I just felt glad to be free from the past and ready to start a new chapter in life, blah blah blah. I was the zero point -- hardly any possessions, no ties and a whole world to explore -- total freedom. Well, after a few days hanging round this Muslim cafe getting hostile looks from punja Singaporeans I decided I had enough, and caught a ferry to a small Indonesian island just offshore (Batam or Bintam, I can't remember which one). It's only one hour from Singapore but it's like entering another world - a somewhat scary world in a Malay headhunter kind of way -- an "edgy tropicana". After waiting a few hours at the ferry terminal being hounded by ripoff merchants I boarded a large boat sailing to the mainland of Sumatra -- I got ripped off by the ticket vendors, who charged me double what the Indo's were paying. Whatever -- being ripped off is part of the third world experience, but the whole atmosphere of the place was dicey. I began to wish I had stayed in Singapore, and I started thinking about how Australia and Indonesia had virtually been at war only a year before, and how I was the only white cunt in town. There were hundreds of people waiting to get on board, all loaded up with Singaporean TVs and the like, and as soon as the gates of the ferry opened there was this mad stampede to get on board. Like a piece of white trash in the garbage dump of the third world, I was carried by the crowd onboard.

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