Blimey, technically there wasn't enough for tuesday part one, let alone two, but I started so I'll finish.
I am slipping into fantasy now. Reading blogs about Iraq (you know who you are!) almost seems a similar form of escapism from life in reality, as it's a long way away, a bunch of savages killing innocent people (no, not the Americans, I mean the terrorists that make the Americans insist on staying for reasons unknown to all but them and Mike Mendoza on Talksport) in an extremely backward country with pots of oil money.
Well Iraq has as much relevance to my life as the fairies at the bottom of the garden. As it does yours (unless you're actually there) but I doubt the new government has stretched to the internet for most people there, who are probably lucky to have electricity and a roof over their heads from all accounts, or have a relative there.
But escapism is inevitable when reality freezes over and though the worst is over there's little left to replace it except dreary routine of making the best of not a lot. The stupid thing is that there are some amazing people out there. Those on Funtrivia would have replaced my missing friends long ago had they not lived all over the world. And some of my professional clients would but that's verboten. And even the cleaner if only she spoke English (or I spoke Portuguese). She does show an interest in what I do, but besides hold up paintings I've done and show her my new kitchen there's little I can do without an interpreter. Some visitors who speak Spanish get a shopping list from her for cleaning supplies from time to time, but my one friend who is also Brazilian is guess where, Florida.
I at least have stopped beating myself up over what I don't do. I don't have a job, I don't go to many places at the moment, and avoid certain jobs as they're still too much for me. Big deal, who doesn't? Guilt is pointless, unless it stops you hurting someone again, including yourself. But feeling embarrassed for not doing unpleasant or impossible tasks has no benefit to anyone, so I no longer carry that burden unless I forget myself sometimes.
So what does fantasy have for me instead? Not real fantasy as in nostalgia as that's even less possible than present imaginings. But imagining things are different to how they are now. It's not the big deals that matter once you've experienced some. They are usually events which lasted a few hours and provide a lifetime's story telling, like when I met all my celebrities or saw an international football match including Audley Harrison giving prizes at half time. It's not really an achievement to decide to choose an event or holiday and turn up at the right place at the right time. Speaking to the guys is usually more luck but still have to remember they're the celebrity and not me, so until someone spends the rest of their life telling people they've met me I shouldn't dine out on those stories either.
It's little things that either used to happen or have never happened. I keep notebooks of old unused diaries where I write whatever comes into my mind, much like here but with drawings. But only for me to look at afterwards. Though we are all human so would probably write about similar weirdness I suspect few people would believe the levels I sink to there and probably avoid me as a result. Oh, they do already... Anyway. Like my house, nothing isn't mine. The element of others things around isn't just the lack of being alone, but the random element of other people's things compared to the choice of your own. I can't write anything in my books by anyone else, and can't control what anyone else would write. That's the second interesting element of it. Something in my house and my notebooks not by me. And that is the tallest order of all. I'm not trying to levitate, climb Everest or become an astronaut. Two are bloody difficult and one apparently impossible, but could be attempted even the levitation if you believe some people. But getting another persons traces in a house (without the stress of strangers living there which is not the same) is interfering with others free will. That's the boundary of our own power in life, other's free will.
OK, I haven't had many fantasies so far, but I can add some more. I'd like two or three people I used to see back in my life, (no one in particular, just from the list), living where I used to or nearby, having a job for just enough hours a week I liked doing so people wouldn't look down on me, living in a community where people actually know each other in the street and shops, something major supernatural being real rather than just reported in books to be discredited afterwards, a few people I know actually having more problems than me for a change, and finally (before I run put of paper) a woman I like actually chasing me for the first time since er, oh I can't remember when...
I reread a little of a book by David Cousins recently that spelled out the philosophy I liked. Give away your problems and expect everything with no limits. The universe can change and allow us to tap into this level where nothing is impossible or unwanted. He sells thousands of books, which are either stoking sad peoples' fantasies or inspiring them to have a lot more. But in my mind I can't be stopped from imagining. And if even one thing on my list happened life could be a lot better, and he says to ask for it all. There's no such thing as a small miracle!