Sunday, April 25, 2004

Chantal's house, Rivonia

Sunday, April 25, 2004

Service: * * * *
Food: N/A
Ambience: * * *
Babe Count: * * *1/2

I'm at Chantal's place in Rivonia. Damon and Wendy have joined us for lunch, but I've been lying on Chantal's bed most of the time, sleeping. And when I haven't been sleeping, I've been leaning over her toilet vomiting up warm, rotten soy-milk mixed with musli.

That was breakfast earlier.

Chantal and I met to do a visioning workshop together, which involves spreading dozens of magazines on the floor, cutting pictures out that answer a question, and then making a collage on huge sheets of paper. She's the woman who runs trance dances every month, and I've done about ten or twelve of these. I get in free nowadays, cos I lend her my radio lapel microphone.

This particular kind of trance dance is a bit of a shamanic thing. It's NOT a bunch of rave bunnies getting high and loving each other up on drugs. This is strictly a mystical experience. We all wear blindfolds, and dance to this incredible music while questing for solutions to our own particular issues.

I most often use the trance dance as an opportunity to do a shamanic vision quest.

Today's magazine collage session has gone very well, apart from me skipping the first of the two sessions. This is a tool I use in my creativity workshops, and Chantal's been in a space where she needs some answers from her subconscious, and I've been in a space where I want to actualise my next relationship.

I've made a picture of my ideal lover. And then I've dialogued with her, using my non-dominant hand. So she's told me some things about herself and what she expects from me. I don't want to make the same mistake I made with Jacqui.

I suspect that what happened with Jacqui is that I decided I wanted a relationship, and then Jacqui came upon the scene, and I recognised her as someone I wanted to be with, and I made the DECISION that she was the woman for me. Aside from the fact that we're mightily compatible, and our sex life was exceptionally wonderful, I think I overlooked the period in which two lovers explore whether or not they're meant for each other. I just took it as given on my side, and expected her to recognise that on her side.

Maybe I am her ideal lover. Maybe not. The timing was wrong. And I hope she does indeed meet her ideal lover. And I hope I meet mine.

Right now, lying on Chantal's bed, suppressing the gag reflex, I'm really quite peeved. Mariaan -- the blonde with the pneumatic breasts -- and I were supposed to go and see a movie tonight. And I realllllllly wanted to get her naked. I've even bought a foldable easel so I can draw her anywhere, anytime. I've had to phone and cancel our date.

Chantal reckons this vomiting is the universe trying to tell me something. "Roy, do you KNOW this girl? How can you just want to SHAG someone you don't KNOW? I can't shag just ANYONE! I think you should listen to the universe."

"It COULD be the universe," I say to Chantal. But I think it's the soy milk.

And anyway... Mariaan and I will be seeing each other on Wednesday night. I'll have my easel ready.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thanks for your comment!