After Erin and I parted ways I called up Katie. We'd meet over at Barriques. You could say our usual place. I ended up sitting across from a mousse cake I'd normally never eat, but I thought what the hell. Katie came by, admired the confection, and suggested we walk and talk after. We ended up back at her apartment that she shared with her parents. (She's 26 but lives with them out of financial convenience). Her mom and dad were watching TV out in the living room as I entered. I'd met her father before. They were both quite genial in the few moments we spoke.

The balcony was a welcome view, and the hours burned by. The conversation centered around my other reality, just like the last balcony episode. She'd studied shamanism so she was curious about my take on it. I'd found out semi-recently that was what I'd been doing all these years. It fit the odd compulsion to help heal people perfectly. I could even point to the initial physical trauma that triggered it, and the aftershocks that pushed me to develop something further that I wanted to leave well enough alone.

A big thrust of it was explaining the sense of independence it engenders. You associate with people, love them, and they can love you, but often times there's a specific purpose behind the association that, when fulfilled, leads to a dispelling. Maybe that's often the case with any friendship or relationship.

We also talked about the concept of metaphysical power, and where this or that person derived it. My own idea was that people who were drafted or enlisted fell into two categories: those whose fundamental aim is directed toward helping others, and those who use manipulation to help themselves by using others. There're as many gradations of those camps as grains of sand along the pacific. Either extreme leads to an inhumanity that awes and terrifies. I'd only met a handful of counterparts to me, back in the days where I was firmly in the 'help' category. But over the last several years I'd had more violent visions, transitions, these compulsions to re-visit and embrace the other side. I learned that many people want to be controlled, willingly, to give themselves up to leadership that they feel helps them. And to quote Annie Lennox, 'some of them want to be abused.' It's not an easy thing, I explained.

But I am not an apostate. Partly I try to harmonize these two camps to better understand darker forces and people at work, but also because there is a fundamental part of me that does want to control, manipulate, dominate, and
denying that power leads to mental anguish and tension that drives me to dangerous distraction. I just use it for 'good'...or at least that's the mission statement.

Some of that I said, some of that I inferred, but she understood. I also talked about the new age apocalypticism I was raised with, the animal totems, other things. It was the same kind of bonding experience we'd had before. I told her I'd miss her and I meant it. I didn't know another friend locally who liked witty banter and talking about stuff like the above. It was hard to say goodbye, but we did. Life had been just that little bit more cool in Madison for the company. Feeling was mutual. So she was off to Montreal and I had an invitation to fly or train over there in case I ever wanted to see Canadia.

Maybe someday.

I've gotten to know Brian better as well. We talked for a few hours one early morning after we'd gotten back from partying at different places. He told me about his trouble sleeping, why that might happen, and something he'd seen while waking that bothered him.

That dealt with another of my curious gifts/mildly schizophrenic psychoses. He's known for awhile that, in going around Detroit, I occasionally come by an abandoned home that has a...very specific feeling attached to it. It doesn't happen with many or most or a few. But if you've taken a look at my gallery, that abandoned house was a prime example. There's a threatening quality, a mild oppressiveness, something that doesn't feel right. I don't know what to call it, but Brian believes in the same thing.

I told him that while he was gone there was an unexpected something that came to the house. I've attracted these things since I was a child. Back then I didn't know how to deal with it: the palpable sense something was there, the sheen of cold sweat, the feeling you were being watched. Intently. This stalking horse had come again. I recognized it. I first saw and experienced it on a hill with Daniel. He himself had seen it as well. Ever since then, ever once in awhile, it comes back. Rather unusual for whatever it is. I could deal with it well enough when I lived by myself, but it was different now. I was living with someone else and I was responsible for their safety. So, more or less, I banished this recurring it. Whether it was grounded in some reality or just my head--I'm not always sure which--everything settled down afterward.

But Brian has mentioned something else, in his room specifically. I'm curious about it.

I also began to find out why he was so unusually receptive to, well, everything I've talked about and many things I haven't. It makes sense now. Somewhat. For the most part I just deal with normal reality, and hopefully I'll just slip into being completely insensitive to whatever else as work and class gets more intensive.

But by the smallest increments I learn and experience more. Maybe I should stop denying it. Maybe I should abruptly transition.

Yesterday was pretty fun-filled and neat. I worked at a cafe for awhile on revising graphs for my manuscript, then around 5pm travelled over to Megan's new place a few blocks away from us. She's a perky very friendly sort that attracts and is entwined with a certain geek/hippy/liberal sort. I jive with these as well. We've always gotten along famously. She moved into this new place with her carrot-topped GM roleplayer friend and her now long-term girlfriend.

The place is spiff. The fruit crepes, nutella, and cool whip were extremely spiff. I indulged in about 8 of those. Inbetween these kitchen adventures, some wine, and lots of lemonade I got to know--directly or indirectly--a lot of her and carrot top guy's friends.

I jived most with Niels and Mary, a geeky couple that reminded me a hell of a lot of, well, another geeky couple that Daniel knows. I found out the new Battlestar Galactica kicks ass, that math majors do have respect for stats, and that the sort of verbal banter I like isn't dead.

Oh hell no. It was going on in spades over there. Mostly it was spearheaded by a roleplayer comp guy. He's like that acerbic, sarcastic shaggy short hair dude in alternative style movies, the one with a comment of some kind for everything. Funny comments, true comments, or grandstanding for the hell of it.

There was also bisexual mahattan liberal dude. He and I had some laughs. Best way I can describe him is emo glasses, tendency to laugh a lot, super short but not buzzed whirly curly hair. In a similar vein--which makes sense given that they're a couple--was the HIV researcher guy. He's the delicately feminine type that still has that attitude and manner that's typical of the homosexual stereotype. The fashion maven from Queer Eye kinda energy. He, Niels, and I had a conversation about how to eradicate HIV using biological techniques. I was slightly out of my field being that I'm just a half-assed immunologist. But I offered enough not to sound like an idiot.

All in all they're people I'd like to see again. Doubt I will, but who knows. Megan said I could stop by whenever I wanted, though--and as much as tell myself it's behind me, I occasionally do miss role-playing. And the people that make it that magically geeky experience.

But what could drag me away from such festivities? On a saturday night?

Yes. The Inferno.

I hadn't been for a week and a half and I wanted to dance. Considering how much nutella I had I kinda had to dance. But in slapping my boots to my feet I realized something:

It was leather and lace night.

'Oh fucking hell,' I thought in a British cockney. I'd been to L&L once. It got crowded. Really crowded. A smorgasbord of poseurs and weekend fetish warriors mixed with many of the regulars in a smoke shrouded flesh fiesta.

But I still wanted to go.

The usual guy was manning the entry desk. Y'know, the guy that no one really talks to but for whatever reason loves to scene. And there on the desk was that old sign: "5 bucks - Fetish; 10 bucks - other." Would I actually qualify for fetish in a pair of black slacks from Walmart and a black hanes t-shirt?

You bet your ass. I'm still convinced it's because I'm a regular.

I'll make this short: I had one drink (given the wine already in my system), waited for Angel/little red-haired girl to spin, and headed out to dance. Dorian Grey was there and already getting into it. Some nights are better than others, and I was completely in the zone. For an hour I busted ass and landed everything right. Even got a howl from some chick which was kinda nice, though maybe she was just drunk. And pretty predictable, where once it'd been just Dorian and I, a few more people came up to join the fun. Finally, after Dude I Don't Recognize began spinning, I quit for a break. Coincidentally enough, perhaps, absolutely fucking everyone started up thereafter. This has a tendency to happen. I guess someone has to let people know it's cool, and I am a dancing fool.

I went in for another hour after Angel got back on, but I wasn't really feeling it. They'd gotten into that extended dance semi-industrial 40-70 bpm bullshit. Great to dance to if you're wearing heels, have no rhythm, or just like listening to the same monotonous shit for awhile, but I was annoyed and my feet hurt. I hadn't had any protein for 'dinner' (i.e. the crepes), so maybe that was it. I did know one thing, though: there was next to no little goth, the hard industrial was just a memory, and Guy I didn't Know loved spinning EBM that yanked my crank in the wrong direction.

I left around midnight instead of my more usual 1:30.

So how did I cap off this festive saturday?

Yes.

I went grocery shopping. I needed something calming after that heavy press of pretty petty fetishistic idiocy. And sure enough the place was basically dead. I got 2 weeks worth of groceries for 75 bucks. This immensely pleased me, along with finding my favorite mocha drink thingy for 2 bucks, whereas at Whole Foods it's 3.

Still haven't gotten a chance to talk to Tasha yet. It's been a long time. Not sure how it'll go, but things seem fine. I remember how well she used to compliment me, the short stories and poems she inspired.

One of these days.

Lesse, so I've covered work, school, metaphysics, alternate realities, saying goodbye, saying hi, eating crepes, dancing like a madman, and buying groceries.

I think that about does it.

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