Call Waiting Gets in the Way
Through our conversations Lyssa and I had to stop talking twice because of incoming calls. The first call took a little while for Lyssa to get back to me but when she did Lyssa informed me that Carleigh was on the other line. Carleigh was sick and not wanting to be rude to her in that condition Lyssa thought it would be best if she called me later. That was fine with me as I had something to eat in that time and as I did Lyssa called me some time later. The second conversation that Lyssa and I had involved what I chatted about before but once again Lyssa had call waiting.
This time I was forced to wait for ages and because of that I hung up the phone. Lyssa rang me back soon after and informed me that Kieran had just called her bragging about how he just gave DJ a call. Who knows what he was confessing to her but when I said to Lyssa “I hate when people know you have someone on call waiting but they never seem to give a shit” she agreed and uttered, “Yeah I know, I was trying to tell him all the time but he just kept talking about DJ.”
To be honest, I’m really not sure when our conversations ended that night but I do remember that Keith decided to call me around 8:30 p.m. At this time he noted that he wanted to head out to the movies and sneak in but I wasn’t in for that idea. Instead of that Keith offered to drive over my house later in the night but of course, that didn’t happen.
Poetry in the Shower
To change the subject somewhat, I think that Lyssa and I ended up talking up until 9:30 p.m. where we said goodnight to each other. Nevertheless, before this Lyssa and I hung up the phone and in that time I made my way to have a shower. While in there I came up with some lines of poetry and I was glad considering I was in a negative cycle. Dripping wet and with the towel loosely around my waist I wrote the lines into this here Diary. Luckily I jumped on my computer and jumped out of the shower because the phone rang and it ended up being Keith who’s conversation I already explained.
A couple of times through the shower I ran back to my computer to type a line or two and when I was finally out of the shower and dry I started the real shit. Before Lyssa even rang me to talk for the last ten minutes before her sleep I got the brunt of the poetry done. After my conversation with Lyssa I finished the rest of the poem and was surprised to how much time passed. Through the night I kept writing energetically in my Diary until the time finally reached a peak of 7:00 a.m. and I finally got some sleep.
A Wish for Beauty
Now, before I speak of the latest day where I will fix the chronology gap let me just elaborate upon three things. Those being the two dreams I had and the thought I’ve had in my mind for a couple of days. That thought came to me when out of the blue I just said to Keith while driving around (and with Ralf also in the car) “If I only had one wish and I could wish anything I would wish that I was the most beautiful, gorgeous and irresistible lady in the world.” Then I went on to explain my newly found philosophy and what it meant to me.
You might think I’m crazy but let me explain my philosophy to you. If I made myself into the most beautiful woman in the world then I could fuck myself any time that I wanted. There would be no hassles of “I’m tired” or, “I don’t want to” because I will be fucking myself. After all, being the most beautiful woman in the world, why wouldn’t I fuck myself everyday. Now, still having my perverted male mind I would be a bitch to men and let none of them fuck me. Rather, if I wanted to I could turn lesbian and make my dreams come extra true, watching two women fuck but me being one of them.
“Why don’t you just wish for the most beautiful woman in the world so you can just fuck her as yourself,” Keith asked me and I had a simple explanation for that. “You see” I uttered rolling it off my tongue and breathing in for the next long sentence, “If I created the most beautiful woman then there would be a chance that somewhere along the line she will either dump me, cheat on me with another guy or die before I do.”
With that I continued in saying “Therefore, if I make myself the woman I won’t have to worry about me cheating on myself. I won’t have to worry about me satisfying her and I won’t have to fight everyone off. Rather, I will be my own woman and with that I will love to fuck myself whenever possible, have control of my beauty.” When you think about it, creating the most beautiful woman has its downfalls and its pitfalls as I have explained but becoming the woman of your dreams you have nothing to worry about, it’s logical.
Chess Tournament Dream
Now, for the initial dream I dreamed, which I had on Wednesday I shall recite here in a good amount of detail. To create the picturesque surroundings I shall note that we were in a large room with square school tables all joined together to create a long line to sit at least twenty people. With ten people on one side of the desks in a line and ten on the other the tables were for a Chess tournament where there was a chess board for each player and the time keeper for each game.
My team was on the closest to the wall and the bottom part of my dream and the other team of ten chess players was facing us. The people in each team sat according to how ranked they were in the team. The worst player would sit on the far left and play the worst player on the other team and so forth to the top of the rank players. Myself, there was a spare seat for me and I was the second from the left but I still fared myself a pretty good player in my dream.
During my dream I played two chess games and in both of them I defeated the other player but in some tough moves. Standing myself up for a little break I walked around looking at how each player on my side was playing. While walking around I was approached by an older lady who looked like a library teacher in the way she was dressed. With a piece of paper in her hand she walked up to me and asked my opinion on the matter. It seemed that the piece of paper was like a test where you have to write your answers but in reality, it was just a piece of blank paper with scribble.
The Misspelled Answer Sheet
It was divided loosely by pen into four sections where in one section I realized it was Imad’s paper. In the third section he tried spelling his name but you can understand how dumb and pathetic I thought of him in my dream when he spelt his name ‘Gorge’ or ‘Gorg’. In another column Imad was trying to spell professional but both times he tried he couldn’t get it right.
Then there was the calculation in red pen at the bottom of the paper and what really got me worried about his intellect. Imad obviously had four games in chess to play because he divided his paper into those four sections. However, Imad seemed to have an attention span of an ant and where he was supposed to write ‘Ay’ in each column where he won a game he ended up writing ‘Ya’. Imad only won one game and that was in the third column and the question the woman was asking was whether I should have let Imad win that game even though he didn’t spell ‘Ya’ properly.
“Imad shouldn’t have to lose the game because he can’t spell properly or because he has a short attention span,” I told her trying to conceal my sympathy for being Imad’s friend. For that she smiled at me and walked away awarding him the third game. Walking back to my Chess board after my break I found that someone had taken my spot but it didn’t bother me at all, it probably relieved me more than anything.
Diary Of A Mad Chaos is a daily diary written from March 1996 until today, of which individual books and book series have been created, namely “The Lost Years” an exploration of young, entwined love, the “Wubao In China (猎艳奇缘)” book series which provides an extensive comparative analysis of the cultural differences between Eastern and Western societies, and the book titled “Foreigner (华人)” an exploration of race relations in Australia.
