Forlorn Kara
As for Kara (as she stood, with her bike, looking forlorn at the hardness of her friends), my heart melted to see this. I wanted to hug her, or cheer her up.....
"Yes, she does that to us! But there are limits," explained Clio. Swiss limits...?
"I'm going to check her persona on the Tarot," said I.
When I did, it was a card which suggested acclaim and achievement. This mystified me, understandably. But then...
"This girl has a lot of talent!" I exclaimed.
"Oh yes," agreed Clio, " She had the main role in a play. She was on the front page of a magazine and in the newspaper last month."
Also, she plays guitar and has a good voice....something I already knew from a meeting with her last month. She is a black sheep through and through. She can't be anything else. I think she will pass my way again - and we are likely to have interaction of some kind.
She was in this play, but, "She wasn't paid anything for it," explained Clio.
Philip, meanwhile, was saying he'll head for Vevey, near Montreaux, and I had planned to meet him there.... but my plans seem to have gone down the heavily worked drains in this erratically patterned thing they call 'Summer' in Switzerland. To think this is Summer - and Winter is still to come...

After several mild Winters in England I considered that being a milkman would not be so bad. Mild Winters are not good for taxi work. Of course, on taking on being a milkman, I went through the harshest Winter for years. The weather does not seem to like me....the biggest frienemy of them all...
so I ask, "Why me?"
And I ask,"Why Clio?"
We've talked, but the crux of our positions has not been reached...yet.

Feutersoey ( or something) - a marooned haven
11/08/96 - Sun - It's nice to wake up in this peaceful room. Looking out the window... the sun is shining... how long for (?) I don't know. How high I am in the mountains (?) I don't know, but there seem peaks within walking distance outside... with captured cloud or mist surrounding them. What time it is (?) I don't know.
My sinus irritation seems to have shifted to the right side of my nose, leaving me a shade cloth-eared.
I can only phone the Wispile restaurant and find out what is and what isn't; I have acquired a distrust of employment here in Switzerland. I don't hold out much hope there will be any hundred franks appearing, but I will head back to Gstaad all the same to find out - and hope hitching is quickly possible from this village (if there is no bus). I suspect they may claim I came 'too late' or something to wriggle out of payment. It depends on what type of mind Dany has... and what kind of situation he has to deal with.
Found a cafe a short walk from the night's bed. This village is called Fontenfoey, or something similar. I see the time is 10.30pm. There is a bus stop, but if there is a bus is questionable. So... I have a coffee... and look to be on the way to being stripped of every franc by this excursion. I guess Philip could say, "I told you so!" - as, no doubt, could Ken Post.
But, in the end, it would prove a sorry thing if event organisers can not be trusted in a land as rich as Switzerland.

The next bus is 11.45.... far too late. I must try hitching. There was a bus (ironically) at 10.11... a mere ten minutes before I left my hotel. I suspect this thing is not meant to happen for me.

Cable car through the clouds to Wispile Surrealism
But, as it turned out, I tried asking at the cable car entrance. The operator said it was still on, despite the rain. He gave me a gratis ticket for the cable car, and up I went to the Wispile restaurant 1900 metres above sea level. Through the clouds, until the valley below became a mysterious, veiled backdrop. In the restaurant itself I was given a room to play in, where people were seated (and eating)....
"Play for 20 minutes, or half an hour," said Dany. Maybe he was just covering himself in case I sounded like a cat in heat, because I played for an hour. There was slight confusion about whether to bottle or not, but I got 17sfr from light bottling.
Now, I've just had the free dinner. This is altogether a strange experience, reminiscent of the surrealism in 'The Prisoner'. There are two people (a couple) dressed up in early century style... with a wind up, miniature wurlitzer type thing. Right now, the man is outside on the terrace singing in operatic style, while the female motivates the 'wurlitzer'. Maybe it's a hurdy gurdy!?!
A string quartet play in the restaurant I played earlier. There is a French girl... a student from Paris... with her face painted. She is very talkative and very attractive. I'm musty headed from my irritated nose. Her name is Louise Bernier.
I didn't have to play anymore and Dany asked me for an address, so he can invite me to next year's event. He then gave me the hundred francs.

Louise wanted me to show her some guitar, so we went to the terrace outside and I played... and she played... a couple of songs. I taught her my chord sequence for "Will u still love me" - the Joni Mitchell song. We talked on, but my nose and ears were pretty musty. She lives in Paris and is studying Art there until the end of the year, when she hopes to move on to a higher course... either in Paris or London. She is half French, half English, but not a fan generally of the French. Maybe she is 17, 18 - around that. She suggested swapping addresses and phone numbers. I gave her Gerhard's address and number, plus Vera's number. Post journal note: I did not have an address, nor phone number, of my own...and thus linkage to either Dany or Louise was distinctly tenuous.
Potential 'family'? I don't know, but I strongly suspect this because she led the way with the conversation... and we liked each other's company.
We descended via the cable car as the sun grew dominant, painting its yellow hue on the scenery above and below. But my ears responded badly to the descent, almost blocking completely. Talking was strange - my ears picked up little as their hearing became a distant thing.
At the bottom, Louise picked up her bike and we walked to the centre of Gstaad, where she showed me a relatively cheap place for coffee. Louise loves 'symbolism' art, but she considers herself no good as a painter. The guitar has her in her early days - she has been playing for only two years, but I think she has an aptitude for it. So, to qualify for the Wispile experience, she painted her face and utilised a clown act. Will she contact me? Will I contact her?
Well... I could try a letter, as she said. She was recommending a place in Normandy (Labou!??!) as being cool to visit. I think I shall follow up the contact, because Fate has introduced us with an easy cameraderie. I must follow all the options presented to me.

Hitch to Bern
Meanwhile, I have almost 160sfr. How to get back to Bern without losing any of it? At the moment, here in Gstaad, it is sunny and dry...there are terraces.... are they playable?
Not greatly. I asked the manageress of one and she said, "Generally not." That told me enough about these terraces. Stuffy. So I decided to attempt to hitch back to Bern. Vevey is out of the question when I am down with a cold.
A short lift to Schonreid - and then a middle-aged lady (surprisingly) gave me a lift to Zweizimmer. I had to wait a little each time, but not that long.
From Zweizimmer, a young couple gave me a lift all the way to Bern station. A two hour stint to go all the way; and I'd saved 37sfr.

Who Blows Nose Knows it Goes to the Middle Ear
Back in Bern and, with my ears singing with agitation, it seemed as though I was floating. But the scenery was absolutely wonderful on the journey back... with sunshine crowning it all. The whole day was an experience, and next year I'll be back (no doubt).
I met the two Irish buskers, which meant prolonged discussion, but I finally reached the station phone and phoned Clio - who tried to phone me back, but my phone jammed. So I called her back. She said Philip is not in Vevey - he is in the Bern Hostel. She also said that everyone is sniffing and snuffling, so it's spread itself around. I told her I'll be on the camping... and as I was about to answer her question as to how long I'll be here, the money ran out. The whole thing reminded me of talking to Ruana on the phone. I had to remind myself that Clio is not Ruana. Is she?
I tried phoning my brother or my sister to get the blood sample results, but neither were in. So I worry that everything is ok with my sister (leukaemia). I have to be aware that something sudden and tragic could occur - and that it would be a body blow to me. If she should get critically bad then I'll need to be in England, whatever the frustration that would mean for me.
Blowing my nose produces all sorts of catalyst re-actions within my ears. I do have to be careful how I blow my nose. It could be the middle ear from where the infection has spread.
But I wonder if Louise and I will cross paths once more. I wonder if Kara will come my way again. 

Danny and his 'entourage'
12/08/96 - Mon - Bern (Switzerland) - "St Maurice? Hell, man, I thought you said St Moritz!"
Like a zombie I made my way to the restaurant terrace; the raw garlic I'd eaten (on Ken Post's advice) the night before had clearly helped, but my nose and chest remained musty...
"St Maurice!?! Where the damn is that now?"
Of course, I recognised the voice as it sank through. It was Danny, the loveable, black father of Swiss buskers. You only have to see him to like him. You only have to say 'hello' and it seems you've been friends all your life.
Walking out of the Manora yesterday, I heard a voice and there was Ken. I hadn't noticed him sitting there. He'd booked a cabin with one of Danny's 'entourage'(lost, wandering Blues and Jazz band) ... and they had a spare bed, so... accommodation sorted. I picked up my rucksack in the morning...erm..now, that is. I told Ken of the beautiful, beaverish barmaid, who determined to herself there was no way I'd be leaving her bar unless I had somewhere to sleep and a lift there.
What I haven't mentioned was that I had a small beer in the bar - being Gstaad, even that was expensive. So, everything arranged for me, I went to pay her for the beer with a 10sfr note - intent on her keeping the change. But she said, "No! That's alright! The beer is ok!"
Truly, a girl in a million. Worse, maybe I'll never see her again.

The Galloping Gaucho
I don't know how my voice will be today. I will try it soon by the river... and just try to play what I can. The forecast looks fairly ok for the week, so maybe my cold will clear up with the sun.
The Eichholtz camping is a bit strange without Clio or Philip around, but I can feel the peace of it. The breeze, a shade cool, rustles the richly leaved trees and the varied hues of green speak of the texture and variety of life.
Yesterday, I ate raw garlic. Today,with the rain blanking out the lunch period, I headed straight for the Manora to investigate another theory. Piles of fruit and some balancing vegetables from the salad counter and the fruit bar. My stomach will have work to do. The theory is that if the stomach is busy dealing with all of this food, then the allergenic responses to the infection/cold will slow down. The production of phlegm will reduce. Then, when the stomach has digested the fruit/vegetables and functions resume, a power pack of vitamins C and D will enter the fray. Emphasis was put on pineapple... this is good for the chest.
I left Ken at the camping with one of Danny's 'entourage', busily trying to wow a couple of French girls from Lyons. These girls, maybe about 18, had been hitching around Europe and, I suspect, looking out for opportunities for a lift back to Lyons or France. After a while you tend to sense the fruitful contacts from the fruitless. Louise is a very good possibility for the future - these girls are not. To them, I suspect guys with transport are worth using to get from A to B. In return, they will offer a sunny smile and the odd compliment. For me, personally, this is fine... because I don't have a car; so there is only me or my songs girls can go for. No doubt, more often my songs. But my songs are me all the same.
A car can not be me - it can only be a car. Money can not be me - it can only be money.
The only thing I have to offer is me or my songs. Both are me. Of course, many may see possibilities within themselves through their encounter with me. But this is also me. I like seeing the possibilities of undeveloped, creative potential within others.
What good does this do me?
Well... whatever good happens to come my way.
In a sense, I feel like the 'Galloping Gaucho' in the Stackridge song.... in rags and tatters, but representing something that touches peoples' souls. By the end of this song, the guys are dressed in imitation of the Galloping Gaucho, except they all wear 'designer' clothes and carry brand new guitars. The Galloping Gaucho simply does what he has always done, but his natural 'persona' has been commercialised. Maybe they laugh at him. Maybe those who knew him respect him. He just remains strangely different, whether people copy or imitate his way, or not.

Clio "down town"
Re-phoning Clio, I got her step-father, who explained how the phone was accidentally cut off. He spoke with an American accent... well, he is American, I suppose. He said Clio just up and went 'down town' straight away after that. He didn't know where... just 'down town'.
Maybe she thought it was Philip and was going to search him out to tell him I'm here, not in Vevey? Worse, maybe she's heard from Philip and he's in some bother? But really, just heading for the Manora is enough to find me, or the Eichholtz at off-shift times.
Or is it? How easy am I to find?
She hadn't come back after two hours.
Maybe she found Philip? Or maybe she was just visiting someone else? It's all speculation! 
So is my life....

A Geis or Curse?
...Just over 6 years ago I was married. The wedding day should be a great day, but the reality is usually more a mixed bag. One occurrence involved a lady, mentally unbalanced, who appeared at the church in the crowd awaiting the arrival of the bride. This lady was dressed in black shawl and black headscarf...a symbolism of widowhood. The garbled story is that she went into brainstorm when her lover, boyfriend either left her or died....something tragic for her. But she disturbed the atmosphere of the day and was not invited. She was gently, but firmly, shown away by my best man. She was not pleased at this, but she did go... muttering curses as she went.
Three months later, I was a milkman by day, a taxi driver by night. One day on my round a gypsy lady passed my way. She said a curious thing:
"You have a Geis on you."
She sold me two trinkets, one to counteract the Geis, the other probably just for luck. She then made what proved to be way off beam predictions.

The unbalanced, black shawl lady may have half understood abilities within herself to inject, through her psyche, a 'bad luck' Geis. If undefended, it may well create havoc.
The gypsy lady may have better understood abilities within herself to recognise the malice of unbalanced souls, though her power is limited by her consideration of reward in a material sense.
The power of our bodies to act for, and against, others in a psychic way should not be dismissed. Much of my misfortune has been inevitable, but there are strong cases of co-incidental bad luck.
Since this marriage, the family dog has died, but he was old anyway. My father has died, but he was suffering from multiple strokes and a confused mind. My mother has died, but she was suffering from a failing heart. My attempts to save my ailing taxi business were constantly dogged by bad luck, or bad timing, or co-incidental misfortune. So, financially broken and effectively unemployed, my marriage broke up. Now Diana has Leukaemia, and it's always seeming to be the most extreme options she has to face.
All of this could be just the way life goes, but I must prepare myself for any dark Geis upon me... and learn how to defend and defeat it. I believe I have built more and more awareness of my psychic abilities. Whether I have sufficient ability to identify and destroy Geis is open to question.... as is my sanity, talking about what seems rubbish. But I must look into every possibility, including strange ones like this.
It is said that many cultures fear the mentally disturbed. There could be good reason, because the natural abilities of our subconscious are less questioned or corralled by someone whose reasoning is impaired. They can project wildly negative energies, even though they aren't aware they do this (on a mind level).
I do not fear this Geis, or any other, should they exist.... because I know that there is good and bad, light and dark, yes and no. I merely need to learn how to combat such things. I believe I am perfectly capable of dealing with such things by correct inner knowledge and the help of the positive energies of the 'light' and Jesus. I say Jesus not as a dogmatic Christian, but as an acknowledger of what Jesus represents: the force of 'good' - of positive energies - of compassion and unselfish love.

The dark shawled lady may well have been in love, but the taking away of her lover has aroused the dark, negative field of love in her. The belief that "I should have... and if I haven't, neither should anyone". This sort of thing may affect minds in inner or outer ways. The King whose new born baby has died may proclaim that all babies born on that day in his kingdom should be put to the sword....
"I should have...if I haven't, neither should anyone."
To bemoan your misfortunes in life is natural, but to bemoan them in a way that disrupts other peoples' lives... who bear no relationship, and seek none.... is the use of dark, negative energies. To wish everyone, or anyone, the same bad luck as you had (or worse) is equally dark, negative energy.
But...."Judge not, lest you be judged."
This is usually my policy with those who (I feel) badly do me wrong. My usual thought is to refer the matter to a higher power, who will then dispense, or not dispense, justice according to the true situation. So.... I think this may be my first step, should I identify Geis.
Crazy, am I? OK, let's see you walk under the next ladder you see! 

Ken's 'real world' explanation
13/08/96 - Tues - Ken came in at the end of the mystic special, to supply me with the more earthly explanations...
"You bring it on yourself! You don't take your opportunities! When it's sunny, you work! You have to take your opportunities, otherwise you're not even in the race!"
Ken, as the Tarot revealed, is equivalent to the persona of Omphale. Omphale is a lady who uses all her abilities and organisational skills to the hilt, so that even Hercules became reduced in stature, despite his strength. She represents the more earthy view of life... that the body you possess should be treated well and given some satisfaction. Thus, any advice Ken gives me on this trip can not be taken lightly, nor discarded. It has to be severely weighed... and if there is wisdom in it, acted upon. The Tarot is very clear on this. Subconsciously, I am already beginning to understand much of the value of his influence.
As for Geis, well... it's a good exercise for creative thought, but it is unlikely. 

A Startling Vision
All the same, I was able to picture some cliffs, with a perpendicular rod floating in the air just off these cliffs.... and three hands were clutching this rod. But the rod was perfectly able to hold its position and didn't need these three giant hands. There was a sense of femininity about these hands.
But my nose was blocking, breaking the concentration of my vision.... thus was it lost.
My instant thought, upon writing this, is that this image/vision was itself the answer. It was a rod. It was in the air. This is Tarot! The three hands denote the relevant card - the three of rods/swords.
So I checked this against the "Mythic Tarot", and read:
"...some separation or heartbreak has revealed itself. Whatever has happened is in some way necessary, because something is at work which requires such conflict before it can unfold to its creative end. Clytemnestra (wife) has had her revenge, and this revenge was inevitable from the moment Agamemnon (husband) chose his own glory over the life of his daughter. Something set in motion in the past comes to fruition in the 3 of Swords, and the fruit is rarely pleasant. This is the deepest meaning of the curse (geis) in Greek myth: not a spell or bad fate cast by some capricious God, but the inevitable working out of the consequences of human choice over time, which, sooner or later will result in heartbreak or conflict when the bill becomes due."

The separation of my marriage has created in all the three family members a state of heartbreak and conflict, which must be resolved if at all possible. So the influence of Omphale and the dispelling of delusion reveals the bitter path back to my daughter. The 'family' is an important facet of my needs, but it will be some time before they can truly become effective.
Right now, there is only me - but I can reach her. I need the attitude of Omphale and her determination to preserve what is hers. In the end, I need money to retrieve what is lost - and the discipline to work hard when the opportunity is there, as Ken states.
Meanwhile, the rain comes down once more to blank out the lunch hour. Clio has taken some portrait photos of me. She says she will develop them this Wednesday. So, the first stage is clear... a photo, 40sfr and a letter to Ireland. It is not much, but it would re-assure both Rachel and Paula. Rachel needs to know I'm thinking of her - Paula needs money to believe I am thinking of Rachel. 

The 'Nicotein' of Experience? Habitual Flaws?
Talking to Ken last night revealed another puzzling facet of my psyche.... a kind of belief that I can never be happy, nor that those I love will ever be with me truly. It's hard to explain on an outer level, but the best analogy would be 'the tortoise and the hare'. The hare can easily win the race and therefore streaks forward, lingering here and there. The tortoise merely plods on in a single minded way. Thus, the hare, taking too long on his distraction, sees the tortoise alarmingly close to the 'finish' line. In panic, he runs for all he is worth, but the tortoise crosses the line a mere few seconds before the hare. My psyche has got the weakness of thought and action that is inherent in the hare. All the hare had to do was run to the 'finish' line and then indulge in distraction with a free conscience.
So how do I remedy a major flaw in my personality?
To be aware of it is insufficient. I am aware that I am addicted to nicotein - it doesn't mean I can remedy that. Of course, if there were no longer any cigarettes to be had in the world then it would be dealt with. But should they re-appear? Then I would, no doubt, resume the addiction. In the same way, if someone locked me in a room and deprived me of cigarettes for three months, saying it's the only cure, then after the three months I would probably leave that room, go to the first shop, and buy cigarettes.
So, is it that the flaws within our psyche are of an addictive nature? Could it be that conditioning and the nicotein of experience can make us accustomed to needing abuse of a part of our psyche? As smoking is an abuse of a part of our body?
It would appear so.
But how do you 'dry out' a half understood psychological flaw? The only way is to fully understand it, or to be in close relationship with someone who fully understands when it occurs in me. Philip is about the closest to remedying this flaw actively amongst my friends. Ken is the closest to identifying it. Ruana is the closest female to what I need to balance the flaw. In matters of organisational skills in practical terms, my wife was supreme.
I have my strengths...these are obviously not a problem...but my weaknesses are; these need a foil.

Hey, little bird - try to spread out your wings one more time   You know it's not so hard to do - it'll help you to survive
And if you're losing height - try to spread out your wings a bit wider     And if you're falling down - I'll be there to ease your pain
And if you need an island - for to rest your wings, seek comfort    Search and you will see - I'll be an island to ease your pain
( excerpts from 'Little Bird' - Ruana/Pearce)

River rushes hastily past
13/08/96 Tues - Bern Camping (Switzerland) - Meanwhile I battle on with Mead Whorton's Words and the song, "Blue sky days". I tried an adjustment of the words to construct at least a subtle, rhyme pattern. But the song is hard to memorise, particularly with the revised words.
The wind is cold for this time of year. I sit in the park with a couple of females - and my mind reels darkly with the revelations of the night and the morning. After a poor start, the sun is more in evidence... and really I should put up Danny's tent. But even the distant companionship that these two females give produces energy and relaxation - side stepping the interdict against healing of body and mind. Calm and serene is my view of the river, but the river rushes hastily past.
Rain and clouds - I'm in the Manora and I've phoned Clio.... she's coming down.
This is great!
Because I always feel down when I'm not well... and it's the time when you want someone with joint empathy to be there. I had a small Lamb Curry and I'll just wait and see if I have anything else to eat. Clio came looking for me this afternoon at the camping or the Hostel, but obviously didn't know where I was because I'd been unable to tell her. She arrived at the Manora and we talked, sharing each other's company until they basically closed the place. My confusion concerning Clio is great indeed, because I have no idea what the pull truly is... only that it is there... and strong.
I (sort of) wanted to just be with her all the time. That there is a strong bond of the soul is evident - but that it extends to physical is open to question. It may never actually reach that, but it may.

Kara
14/08/96 - Weds - Like a miniature parody of Neuchatel (sword in stone period), I now stand awaiting good weather or facing a debt situation in Switzerland. I paid Ken 25sfr for the two nights in cabin 7. Last night, I was in cabin 4 with Danny and his entourage. Today I plan to set up the tent - and once I do I'll need to get well ahead of the camping cost... rather than as I am now (with about 15sfr to my name, or less).
The forecast is for better weather over the second half of this week. I will need to work hard to repair my financial situation. My cold is much better this morning. Danny gave me two aspirins last night and a good night's rest has restored my humours somewhat. There are still heavy clouds blocking the sun, but the wind has died down considerably.
It is demoralising to start from scratch again, but the wheel of Fate demands this. It gave me a chance to talk for a long time with Clio. Her parents go to Scotland for two weeks on Thursday. This may open up further possibilities, or it may not. I'll wait and see.
Yesterday, she 'felt' my need for her during the day, but when she checked at the camping, naturally they had no idea where I was (because I was booked in under Ken's name). She went to the Youth Hostel, but they were negative in even a helpful way. It would have been nice to have spent the day with her (she was ill too and couldn't go to work). If she is still ill today she will meet me at the Manora around two.
Last night, I explained to her (in an abridged way) my turn of thoughts in the previous 24 hours - alongside the story of the tortoise and the rabbit (she was not familiar with the animal name 'hare'). Clio then told me more on Kara...
Kara is much like the rabbit (Clio concluded). I suspect Kara has never been under pressure, because her mother has always been right at the bottom of the slide (or close enough to the swings) to catch her. Even the exams from Primary to High School were circumvented by her mother paying for a private school. Thus, Kara's mind is conditioned to expect others to pick her up if she falls... and to buy the food and drinks she needs.
But, "Oh baby, it's a wild world - it's hard to get by, just upon a smile!"
Kara has a glowing repertoire to stun and entrance her Swiss listeners, but it is limited. Eventually she'll run on re-wind, never truly innovating herself and her mind... just referring back to the script and maybe adding a morsel or two every now and then if it works.
So, if our paths meet and we engage in one to one conversation, my strategy must be to gently navigate the wings of her repertoire and breach the rearguard. She may not like this, but it will not be done with the exasperation her friends reveal.... merely with a neutral, unmenacing curiosity. Because she has talent - enormous talent, but she is stifling it behind her repertoire. It is like performing "Angie" so beautifully people weep. This is fine, but if all you perform is "Angie" it loses its power... and you cheat yourself. 

Clio
Clio drew a 'mother/daughter' sketch for the front of this book. The 'daughter' is Clio holding the only visible hand of her mother. Clio other hand grips onto a sagging rag doll (a surrogate father?).

Contact with Clio has shown me more of the beauty of soul meeting soul. In a dizzy dance our souls are interacting on a level neither the mind, nor body, can fully comprehend. Today, while Clio drew an Arthurian sketch, I felt the souls within us dancing, weaving, loving.
To describe it best would be to say two dog owners meet in the park and talk as friends while the two dogs excitedly greet each other and dance their own dance, entirely unrelated to their owners... although the owners offer their appreciation of the dogs' happiness.
The soul has little conception of the limitations of organic existence. Without the material demands and needs of the human body and mind, the soul would blend timelessly in a state of bliss with another soul that so attracted it. Both Clio and I give our souls a great deal of leeway, and our minds bow to the mysterious pull they exert. Our lives become almost unrealistic, but the true reality (to my mind) is the soul...
No matter what we eat, drink - no matter how punctual or disciplined we are at work - no matter what we try: our bodies of dust and water will disintegrate into dust and water.
Thr true reality (to me) is the soul, unbound, unconstricted and free to display its bond with other souls who complement their peculiar energies. This joy that bonding souls feel does seem wonderful, but it would appear to need the suffering and limitations of organic existence to find out why there is such bonding. Organic life if merely the key to unlock the reality of our true existence. We can speak or sing of it here. We can physically cement it here. We can discover the true limitations of the bond here. Maybe we can discover new possibilities here that, like Kara, we would feel no need to stretch ourselves to reach in our true reality.
In truth, you can say I'm mad. But you can't say, with any true certainty, I'm wrong.
But what there is between Clio and I in our bound reality is confusing. It is the urging of souls that has pulled us together, as I suspected it would. For how long (?) and in what way (?) is open to question, but I love her company.
In reality, she is 18.. I am 42! 24 years! What can that mean?
Within me there is almost disastrous distraction... the tortoise has almost caught up. The hurried, unqualified goodbye as she rushed for her bus tweaks my soul. It is Ruana and I all over again. The dancing of the souls, then the dancing of the minds, and then...
Autumn having touched you and I - coloured leaves scattered beneath a clear blue sky (Mead Whorton Jnr)
Against this would be, ironically, my own words:
Loving you I don't regret - I'd do it all again - and I know I won't forget - the beauty and the pain
We are all richer for our shared experiences. To fear to enter through the gate of interaction is to remain a pauper within the soul. My Fate points directly at Clio (Bern) or Kat (Antwerp). So I follow its line. It may yet prove Philip and Clio for all I know, but still I follow the line. One day, I will know the beauty or the futility of the journey. It is a better thing than never knowing.
Through it all, my soul becomes richer and multi-hued with colour by the tapestry of the 'family', but still there is the completion, the fulfillment, that I feel may well come... and soon. It is a burning desire. But my daughter (Rachel) can represent fulfillment by herself.... so far away.... 

A Knight with stiff and weary limbs
15/08/96 - Thurs - A raggedly, sleepless night; it's hard to adjust to a tent. My whole system seems clogged and I'm only half awake this morning. Within a half hour of getting up I'm reduced to about 5sfr. I paid Danny the money for the night I spent in his cabin, had a couple of coffees, bought some cigarettes, a filled croissant... and here I am. I played the Munster last night for the money I needed to cover all this. I had a view for an early night, but I couldn't sleep; I even heard the bells ring out 3 in the morning. My limbs feel a shade stiff and weary.
I must have a shower to re-charge my energy and refresh me, but the showers here are set to 5 minutes... not too long. Luzern camping gives you longer.
I guess I get confused, but did Clio go down the Manora to find me last night? I have no idea. Rather late, I phoned to check... and her stepfather said she was "Out! Somewhere." But she didn't say she would meet me there; she said she'll be in the dark room with Chantel developing the negatives she picked up yesterday. I can only assume they continued on to spend the evening together, But I felt a stab of panic that maybe she was at the Manora. I wasn't there. I was here on the camp site.
But right now (as in Neuchatel last month for awhile) I owe more for the camping than money I have. I owe 10sfr for last night, against the 5sfr I have. It's not serious just yet, but I need to overtake the tortoise and re-establish a lead today... and then win the race by the end of the weekend after this one; but, after last night, my energy has been stripped away.
Yesterday, Clio drew the collage that is Arthur, Gwendolyn and Merlin at the back of this book. I watched her, in a state of warm companionship, as she drew the whole thing. In the sketch, I stand at a fork in the road that offers two directions - one to the daunting task of the castle, the other following the river for further allies and armoury. The path that follows the river (co-incidentally) takes on the appearance of a sleeping lady.
Well, Brian? Where do you go from here? 

Ken Post charges to the rescue
Down to serious energy drain, aching limbs, with a crushing inability to find the strength to walk, let alone work. The thought that Clio may be in the Manora offers just enough incentive to get me into town.
Without a franc I staggered in, but she wasn't there. Maybe she's got to work today(?). But how can I work? No money to try any remedy. It's luck that Danny is in town... he wandered back to his car and came back with two and a half aspirins... "Take it all!"
So I staggered to the Munster park, lay on the grass, and waited for the fever to begin its sweat out. Ken passed by with some chicken, so I won't completely starve. All I have to drink is Swiss fountain water. But drink I must! My stomach, my diaphragm, my knees, my chest and my head were completely defeated. I saw Mark (from Geneva) earlier; he has had this ailment too.
In procession, musicians float like flies around here today. It will be hard to extract money from hammered terraces, especially in my condition.
But, some of the fever sweated out, I think I feel a shade stronger... but then, I haven't tried standing up yet.
Ken Post appeared on the Munster terrace and swept into his high energy act. Well, there was no way I'll be doing much jumping around.... and it means a further wait before being able to play the terrace myself.
However, Ken came over to me afterwards to say, "That was a benefit concert! Here's 20sfr!"
Danny had hinted he had done this for me. It was a noble gesture, but it also meant I could hardly walk up to play next.
So I staggered to the Manora and had a Greek chicken dish. Now I chew on options, as sweat comes slowly out... hopefully reducing the fever and the energy loss. Whether I'll be able to play this evening depends on my body's response to the cooler evening air. I am considering phoning Clio to see what's happening with her. Has she had this? Or is it a double infection? Has Philip fallen ill where there is no support of any kind?  

Fever grips my body
Clio said,"I'm not sure if I'll be out tonight. I'm expecting a friend... but if they don't show, or whatever, I'll be in the Manora at nine."
If she isn't there I'll head back and sweat this damn thing out completely. Clio thinks being in a tent is not a good idea, but I was not necessarily cold last night - just wracked by an exhausting tension and discomfort (probably the growth of the fever). It is not my wish to be weak in the face of 'family', but Ken has had ample chance to adopt the role of Omphale...and I do not wish to be less than equal in Clio's eyes, but Fate requires otherwise. From this, no doubt, I'll gain some wisdom.
Meanwhile, I chew over the possibility of playing a terrace. Maybe I can manage one (?)... or two(?). Eating was a slow, painful experience mentally, but I managed. Maybe I can manage a terrace(?)...

A little bird trying to fly and losing height
16/08/96 - Fri - No entry.
17/08/96 - Sat - On Thursday night I played the Munster, doing an emotional set. I was almost in tears singing 'Little Bird', because that was what I was... a little bird trying to fly and losing height, relying on the true friendship of other birds who cared deeply enough to assist my flight. It was then that I realised how liked I am around Bern, as the terrace responded to my ailing flight with over 30sfr. Ken and Danny had already been great with their concern.... and, as I ambled tiredly into the Manora (after playing the terrace), I saw Clio was already there...
"I phoned my friend and said I need to see Brian. He needs me!"
Yes, I did.
But I didn't want to be the victim. I refused her offer of staying the night, because I wanted to show it was her I wanted to see, not her appartment. I tried to perk up.. and did, as we talked and talked... but a severe coughing fit saw me rush to the toilet and almost throw up. I knew I shouldn't be in the tent that night.
So I asked, "Does your offer still hold?"
"Of course!"
So she took the 'little bird' back to her place - all pristine clean and ordered, representing an existence I have semi-forgotten.

Alan
The beautiful, swirling energies Clio represents, and instills in me, were disrupted in the evening by the self-contained Omphalic Ken and the gloomy, slow re-wind of Alan. It seemed only fair and sensible to let Ken have the tent, while I slept in Alan's appartment, but I was driven mad by the unrelenting, uncoloured, unsolvable riddle of his marriage breakdown. Four hours of it! Until 2.30 in the morning! Even the Manora disturbed my erstwhile tranquility, as Ken and Alan shot negative energies at each other. But, at least I saw Yuko and her boyfriend before that - and I was able to practise my Swiss/German a little. She said she'll see me here again. I think she likes me, so she probably will.
Meanwhile, Alan goes to Neuchatel with his children today, so a question he was asking himself is answered. He does still have access to his children. It is curious how I arrive at crucial points of family situations.

Philip
Like a worrying father, I spoke to Philip on the phone. He was due to phone Alan eleven in the morning. I say 'like a worrying father'; that is not actually true. Outside, I just suggest places in Geneva he can go for meeting people. He says he 'feels' he has to meet someone in Geneva. It is likely that he will, but he may be looking in the wrong places. I told him to try the squat bars....
But he says he's lonely - and then my heart goes out to him, and I become (on an inner level) the 'worrying father'. I feel I should be saying, "Hey, come to Bern." But it would stunt what I seek to achieve here... and prevent what can be achieved by Philip there.... yet inwardly, I don't know whether I'm being strong or selfish. So I have all the symptoms of someone who cares very deeply about another, but also seeks the crucial steps of a personal fulfillment.... but Philip will come here if he so decides. But when he says he's lonely my heart wrenches, because I know all about being lonely on the road - and he's only 16, despite his physical and mental stature.
But his mind is sharp enough to tune into the path of Fate. Even through his emotional isolation he knows he must seek the reins of his kingdom. It will not be easy, but being a King never is. At this point I reflect on the possibility of introducing him to Antwerp on my return there next weekend. It may be time.

Clio and Kara
I phoned Clio from the Manora. She said the diary was "very interesting." This is good, because it means it is readable to someone who hasn't met the people or even has much knowledge of their individual backgrounds. She also said she is meeting Kara this afternoon, and that they will look for me on the terraces.
So I can continue to work without distraction until then... having a break when they find me/ if they find me. I hope they do.
Kara is a matter to puzzle over, but it's hard to chew over her while I'm working.
I played a couple of the Barenplatz terraces, but when a glockenspiel duo opened up I decided to head for the Munster. Playing that was ok, and I went to play the ice cream terrace. I met Alan on the way, with his two children... and Ken a bit later, but not Clio and Kara. I hovered around the Barenplatz with Ken, Danny and his entourage... and it seemed I would miss Clio and Kara completely. But, taking another look down the main Spitalgasse drag, I finally found them.
They had been (I guess predictably) hovering around the market for an hour (which, of course, was where I was not). I'd been playing the Munster etc....
Kara is a sparkling jewel, scatty and maybe like the tinsel on a Xmas tree. She positively glows with radiance and charm. Such a mysterious diamond! Is she part of my task?  She speaks only German, so if she is part of my task I must learn German. I must, anyhow, for Clio...because I feel I need to cement my ties here, and fully understand the quality of German texts. This is hard, not impossible.

A nightmare THIS
Like a nightmare, I had to put up with Alan.....

18/08/96 - Sun - The restoring energies of Clio yesterday were once more disrupted (later) by Alan. Eventually, I just had to explain that I like my mind to think:
THIS   then    THIS    then    THIS    then    THIS   then   THIS   then   THIS

I DON'T like to think:
THIS only

I said, "I can talk over your problem for one night, but not two nights or three nights! Just strip away everything concerning the marriage, your wife and Bob from your mind and see what you have left! What were you doing before you met your wife? Then do the same! Strip away all thoughts of your marriage and see what there is left! Forget your sorrow by helping others deal with their sorrow. Dealing with their sorrow will make it easier to deal with your own."

"She's Eighteen!! Girls change their mind fast at that age!"
19/08/96 - Mon - In a swirling haze of emotional and physical intensity, my soul, mind and heart spin and co-alesce into a united passion. A pasion to fulfill my love with Clio. Our close contact has stirred me so powerfully... in a way I suspected it may ...but so completely (?), so soon(?) is a surprise.
She has been teaching me German - I have given her my diaries to read. The diaries introduce me to her in a way that would come across confused and garbled, were I to explain verbally. She says she already has the 'feel' of knowing Antwerp through reading the diary.
Last night, she missed her bus and (unbeknown) there was no nacht linien bus, so she had to take a Taxi home.
Am I clueless? Was there something I should be saying to invite the next step?
My passion was rousing to physical need by the end of the night. Today, I woke up powerfully aroused. I want her completely! I already know I love her. At this point, our coming together is slow and fragile, but it is my way to be patient..... it's just that now I'm impatient to hug her fully, to make love to her, because this is what it would be from yesterday night.... making love.
Ken is, of course, sceptical about the thing, "Brian! She's eighteen! Girls change their minds fast at that age!"
I guess they do... and I know that... but I wasn't wrong about Char and Ruana on a soul level - merely about the practical obstructions the mind can produce. I am sure on a soul level with Clio already. But I don't know what minds may shape it up to. If I feel there is no response beyond friendship then it is likely I will just pick up the next thread of Fate in search of emotional fulfillment.... because I am fired for physical fulfillment as well. In matters of female/male, true fulfillment requires both.
Emotionally, I am weak when I fall in love, but I know how to deal with the pain of rejection... either outward or implied.... because my love runs thus:
THIS   +    THIS    +    THIS    +    THIS    +      THIS   +   THIS
A 'wife' would need to aim me thus:

THIS
Re-directing the bond in my soul with all girls I love into friendship, or distant acquaintance.
Am I ready to be so tied?
I think it would need someone very special. Clio can be that..... but she is 18, so I do subconsciously beware. But the line of Fate (and the Tarot) points clearly at Clio or Kat. I will seek out all the possibilities there could be with Clio. It's always worth it to try.

"Home is where I'll find..."
FULL STOMACH - EMPTY SOUL

But I am EMPTY STOMACH - FULL SOUL
The terrace by the Police station was predictably unresponsive... but it inspired the line.

I can't believe how the energies drained away to a muted shade of limbo. I was fired up for the progression, but it didn't happen. The signals were awry. Subconsciously I was pushing, while outwardly studying her general behaviour and body signals. They seemed to suggest no. Given that we were in the Munster park taking in the sun (or shade), it may have been too public anyhow for shows of affection. I understand this, but I have not gained much hope that this will build beyond simple friendship.
She has spent a great deal of time binding and designing a cover for my second diary.... and it looks great. I spent much time trying to learn her poem by heart. Usually, everything would be fine... except the lack of physical closeness. If this does not occur, then neither will anything else. It was nice this afternoon, but it's incomplete without the intimacy. Maybe she's hanging on until she's read the diaries - to see how I truly think....
She asked,"So where do you think 'Home' is?"
"Home is where I'll find emotional fulfillment," I answered.
'Home' is where you feel you can say what you like, and what you feel - and where your loved one will do the same. Empathy and love. As with Judy... as (once) I had with my wife. That is 'Home'! And where the woman lives, or chooses to live - that is 'Home'.
My idea was that we could really talk through what there is at present between us. But my grasp of her mood was that it was not a good time... and maybe even distance emerged by the end of the afternoon.
I can only rationalise my re-actions by saying I grew over the top in the morning, levelled out in the afternoon and flattened completely by six. Maybe it's just that we were in public, but I will phone her tomorrow if she's in... and get on with my life. Which, of course, means earning money - and fast, if I'm to get back to Antwerp soon... to prod the other line of Fate, Kat.

I've managed to restore my finances to around 60sfr. That's around the camping mark. Tomorrow, weather allowing, I'll try for genuine savings.
Thinking it over, it took a lengthy period for Ruana or Char and I to get all the way physically active. Where my weakness lies (if it is a weakness) is in my hesitation and lack of assertion.
I do know this!
I also know that, when my confidence is high, I have periods where I break through this barrier.
For this, I need confidence... which is simply not there, after the recent experience of implied rejection in my encounters with females. Even though they may love me a great deal. In consequence, my personality alters when facing intimate situations. I become like a helpless lap dog, waiting for the owner to stroke it.

As for expectations of someone in my position, it is best dealt with by considering the case of a little girl coming to stroke a lamb. She would want the experience of stroking the lamb, but she wouldn't want to necessarily take it home for keeps.... just experience some empathy before moving on to the horses in the next field. (LBJ note: This paragraph is of extreme relevance within the journal. Lamb = unstable relationship; Horse = girlfriend hijacker.)
This is my lot (Fate). Females like to taste briefly the lives of Black Sheep like me, or Philip, but they don't consider it more than a diversion. Of course, and as is especially likely with Philip, if the black sheep becomes an accomplished black sheep (in the view of the white sheep world) then these girls would seek to taste permanently the fruits of that success.
Clio said (on Saturday) that Migros (supermarket) offered free food for everyone in the store. People went crazy, elbows flying, to snatch as much as they could from the Patisserie. This is an occurrence that would never have happened if these people had to pay the full price.
We're right back to, "I've got a car, and I've got a yacht in Norfolk.. please queue at this point."
So it's hard, well nigh impossible (despite all the girls I know), to find the jewel that would be my 'wife'. Ken is right, of course... he lives in the real world: "Don't think about anyone under 22; you're asking for it if you do!"
It's not certain that this thing with Clio is a lost cause, but it is a useful pointer to the potential situation with Kat. Quite aside from that, my potential interactions here in Switzerland would be damaged if Clio and I withdraw from each other... because she is helping me learn Deutsche faster than I would otherwise do. Maybe I should just retreat to England this Autumn... fix that tooth, work and save money for the Spring next year? In the end, I seem to be unable to financially clear myself enough to be able to do anything, except cover the bare expenses of living. It is a good life, but it would be better with sufficient money and/or transport (plus the necessary gigging equipment). Could I get work in England?
I may have to find out.

It seems the strange argument the souls of Clio and I had today (because I'm sure it was that) has tripped my zest and energy for the fight. I was so happy this morning... now I'm dead inside. Playing terraces tonight was hard, because (inside) I felt desolate. But the Munster terrace did restore a little fight in me.... enough to write this.
Bern is very hard for social contact; really there is Clio and Kara only (of interest). Their friends are "here today, gone tomorrow". To spend a Winter here would be a desolate thing indeed on a social plane, unless I was in a clear relationship. I must bear this in mind.
So what of the prospects of a Winter in Greece? With Kat? Probably pie in the sky, because Kat may not wish to take the chance. I feel a shade like someone who is playing Monopoly and has picked up "Do not pass go - do not collect £200".
Something very strange happened today; or was it my irritation with my nose and chest, and Clio's irritation with her headache?
Sometimes, it is as simple as that...at least, in the early days. I still feel unwell. This is the problem of colds/flus etc. They're so hard to clear away... in my case (this year). 

"Why do guys have to take the lead?"
A little sideline to the lack of assertion matter: Kat's comment to me outside Cartoons (Antwerp), "You should tell me what you want."
Reflecting on this, I asked Ken, "Why do girls always want guys to take the lead? Why do they expect us to ask them?"
"Oh, that's easy," replied Ken, "So they can say no!"
Truly sharp answer.
But, on the face of it, that is why I am not assertive.... because I don't like to hear "No!" It makes me feel I am taking advantage. All I end up taking is a nose dive, because it's true: girls like to say "No!"
But they want the option to say "Yes!" - I don't give them that right now. I'm not sure Swiss girls are right for me. If I failed at first base with Clio (with such a powerful pull drawing us) I've no hope on the chance acquaintance.
Conclusion: Bern is for work, not emotional fulfillment. Even Antwerp may fade from my life eventually.
Clio asked, "Where is Home?"
It seems not Bern, not Antwerp, not Bishop's Stortford, not Newbridge... but maybe you'll find my 'home' somewhere between Jupiter and Mars. I guess I am severely disillusioned. 

Pissed off
Ken moved on today... I think back to Luzern. Danny and his entourage have moved to Basle. Clio returns to work tomorrow. Philip is in Geneva, or thereabouts.
For the first time, since my return to Switzerland, I'm in an empty city socially. Even Gstaad proved socially good. I must write Louise.... and an armoury of people.... to say what(?):
"Weather fine/shitty - nice scenery (sometimes). Wish you were here (and I was there). The locals are friendly (sometimes). I work here (in between cocking things up socially). I socialise here (in between cocking things up work-wise). I have obtained a souvenir here. Do you want it (a cold/flu). I will write again soon (next year), when I will put down the same bullshit (but with a different pen).
Yours
Pissed off
Brian"

Tonight it rains... who said the Swiss weather forecast is always right?
It seems Danny and the entourage are still here. They just showed up. I may be moving on if this is a mere glitch in the good weather.

Fribourg
20/08/96 - Tues - Today the sky is clear blue, and it's just past eleven in the morning. Today I must earn money. A simple day... just work. Maybe an excursion to Fribourg would be good tonight, or this afternoon - so I can just work. This would give me the start to the savings plan I need.
Day in, day out, until Sunday... just work! Sunday, or Monday, to Antwerp. Back here at the beginning of September - three weeks work here - then one week in Antwerp.... this is my plan. The cold/flu, emotional distractions and indifferent weather has blunted my plan thus far, but I'm sure the plan can work.
This Summer has proved a disappointment emotionally and materially, but it can be salvaged materially... maybe even emotionally.

I sit on a station platform awaiting the train to Fribourg, bombarded by a constant barrage of 'Swiss mechanical devices'. I've become too insular with my work pattern, mainly through this cold/flu I have. I need the fresh challenge of new terraces and new scenery.... so I sit here, writing this.
I played two songs on the Munster terrace around two, but the manager asked me to stop... because there have been "too many musicians". So it's being hammered, but this is August (buskers proliferate). I collected money from the terrace, despite the short set, explaining my reason for the short set to all who gave. There were a number of people there who are fans of what I do.

Clio hooked by this diary
My plan was a bite at the Manora and then on to Fribourg, but I glanced to the right... and there, waving at me from the same spot on the park where we had sat yesterday, was Clio. I joined her there - and, it seems, she did not notice the subconscious activities of the day before. Guess I am so tuned in to these things that even her headache may confuse me. We sat more in the manner of unison today... and her body signals were not saying no as much. In fact, she accepted closer bodily contact. It was the lack of this that seeded my annoyance yesterday.
I told her of my Greek holidays... and that, in turn, led to me remembering my old song 'In another life'. I sang this to her.
She told me she has reached March 15th in my diary...
"Ah, it's coming up to my gig - the first day of Spring..."
"Don't tell me!!!" she cut in.
Good! She is obviously finding it fairly interesting.
 Clio showed me a list she had made of cheap rooms in Bern. Most of them run to about 400sfr a month, but one is only 280sfr. If I can save 1,000sfr by late October I could secure accommodation for 3 months here. If Clio and I develop it would be nice to be close enough to her.
This 'if' is a way off yet, but Clio gives me a sort of feel that only my wife had once been able to give.... a sense of truly being myself. But not yet.
There is the potential of this, not the reality. Much has to be done before a true, complete bonding may occur. The Tarot is clear: emotional fulfillment. But I wait and see.