Oh oh. I'm thinking faster than I can type...

[Tim Thibeault]

In fact, it's taken me about four minutes to get this much typed
and I haven't even reached the ideas that were coursing through my cerebral
cortex (as if they get that far before bogging down in multiple
digression) when I was inspired to start. Perhaps I was just channelling
some really boring spirit from ages past. Did you ever notice how everyone
who claims to have had a previous life, was always a king or queen or high
priest or something? Very few medieval peasants, it seems, were able to
afford a future life. Also, the "transmigration of souls" seems to lose
out in channelling circles as few people can recall past lives as warthogs
or clams or even lesser primates.

Be that as it may, I recently had a flashback to a past life as a
teenager. Funnily enough, I was a dweeby sort of somebody who took himself
very seriously. I can't tell you how many times I hitch-hiked down the
road to Damascus only to end up walking all the way, which possibly is a
good thing since I'm not sure that extravagantly abrupt conversions are
good for one's heart.

Even as I tell you this, I am slowly converting a beer into some
of its less mentionable constituent parts. (Excuse me.) Obviously I'm hardly
using my brain at all. This, of course, frees up more of one's mental RAM to
occupy itself with picking up the next idea *without* bending it out of shape
in trying to express it. Mental fingerprints on an idea are indications
that it has in fact been "detailed" during the trip from grey matter to
fingertips to keyboard to screen. That's why they say the medium is the
massage. But then, I guess you knew that.

Anyhow clams, a pal just dropped in (at 10 minutes to 11:00 p.m.no less)
on his way to and from work delivering pizzas. He's off at midnight so
along with another friend we are going for a midnight drive through the
Gatineau Park (Ottawa's gazillion acre playground-across-the-river-in-Quebec,
recreational/historic/environmentally groovy/nature-loving brown-rice-and
headbands wholesome and healthy, area.)

Good Cod! Look at the time! I've got seven minutes left to "sum it
up". Looks like there ain't gonna be no spellin check on *this* one. So,
whatever all that was clams, it's my story and I'm sticking to it.

see you in the Middle Ages (assuming we are not required to live
out our multiple existences in chronological order, :)

M (as in, can you guess what *I* was doing this evening?)